I was a year old the last time the Toronto Maple Leafs won the Stanley Cup and I don’t much remember the parade.
Back in high school – in the mid 80s – my friend Tommy and I openly wondered if we’d ever live to see Toronto win the Stanley Cup in our lifetime.
We laughed at the time but I’m not so sure anymore.
Have you ever been a part of something so long that you don’t remember when it started, how it started, or even why it started?
That’s me and the Toronto Maple Leafs. I grew up with them and they were a big part of my life. I never questioned my allegiance to the team. Why would I?
Living in Toronto and in Ontario and loving the Toronto Maple Leafs is just what you did. My dad, who emigrated to Canada after the War, was obsessed with this new game. Seeing this Dutchman so locked into this strange sport was something to behold. He bled red for Canada and blue for the Maple Leafs.
And I guess I did too. Through the 70s. And then I did the 80s, and the 90s. And now I’ve done the first 25 years of the 21st century and I’m not one bit closer to seeing the Toronto Maple Leafs with the Stanley Cup.
And I’m disappointed, and I’m disillusioned and anything else that tells you that the air is completely out of my tires.
And I’m done. I feel like I can’t do this anymore. And you know why? Because I finally figured it all out.
I’m not a lifelong fan of a bad team as many would have you believe. No. This is worse.
I’m a fan of the most perpetually mediocre teams in sports history. One that’s infinitely caught in that middle ground. They’re never good enough to win a Cup and they’re rarely bad enough to get the first pick overall. We’ve done that twice. In sixty years. The Maple Leafs can’t even be good at being bad.
No, their place is all that stuff in between. Being a Leafs fan is like being ejected from a space craft where you’re doomed to float through the vast nothingness of space for all of eternity.
It sounds dramatic but it’s true. Toronto has made it to the NHL semi finals, just five teams. In sixty years. Not the finals. The semi finals. That means they have never once played in the series that will decide who gets the Stanley Cup. 60 years!
Buying into the Leafs is buying into a defective product that’s said to be cutting edge, but of course it’s not. They carry themselves like a religion, and like a religion you dare not challenge anything.
They love two things about you: your wallet and your unquestioned devotion. Just buy the tickets, buy the jersey, and we’ll get along fine.
It’s not that they don’t want to win. They don’t have to win. The building is full regardless of how feeble their effort is. This is a fanbase with no breaking point. Desperation masked as dedication.
We’ve watched teams cursed worse than us win championships and we’ve seen cities that didn’t even have franchises until this century, win Stanley Cups. Yet we never do.
This dystopia has created the most bizarrely obnoxious fans in sports, which is easier to understand than you might think. Like with all effective coping mechanisms Leaf fans protect themselves by continually moving the goalposts so the question starts with the answer. We’re the superior fanbase no matter how bad the season turns out and we strut like we’ve actually done something recently.
And we have, in just one capacity. The Forbes List. That’s our Stanley Cup which is why we willingly conflate their net worth with ours. As if we get the dividend when we make their stock grow.
Seeing an invasion of Leafs jerseys in every rink in the league is more a sign of a successful marketing campaign than it is about a great hockey team. The Toronto Maple Leafs – in today’s world – are only great at one thing. Making money.
Without question they’re a phenomenal business model but they’re nothing more than a mediocre hockey team. Those numbers don’t lie and the greatness you think you’re defending isn’t based on wins and losses. It’s about market share, and you bought into it. I bought into it.
Loving this team means not caring so much about winning. About this deceitful delusion that says we’re only inches from returning hockey glory back to the city of Toronto and the religion that is the Toronto Maple Leafs.
“Almost there” is the greatest sales pitch in sports history because you, as a fan, never want to let go of the rope for fear of missing out. This preys upon everything that’s good in you. And in me. And I finally figured that all out.
Because when you’ve been connected to utter mediocrity for some sixty years you see things differently because you really don’t believe in things the way you should. You so want to believe that all good things come to those who wait but how long is too long?
We’re no closer to a cup in 2026 than we were ‘86 or ‘96. How much mediocrity can we take?
We say “We’re the best fanbase in the world” because of what? Our glorious history? Your great grandad was the last person who experienced any of the greatness you think you’re a part of.
Things have gotten so depressing that I can’t even watch hockey the same way anymore. I just know the letdown is coming and now it’s just a matter of when. When does my hope dry up this year? When can I stop deluding myself into thinking this season is going to be any different than the last fifty nine?
This isn’t about resilience anymore or about tenacity and it’s certainly not a question of loyalty. Six sad decades is proof of that.
No. This is all about desperation. About how much longer you want to hold on.
This is the rebuttal for my countless years of diligent servitude. For the passion and belief I poured into something so fundamentally frustrating. Being a Maple Leafs fan now feels like I’ve been conned and duped and swindled and fooled.
I’m not bailing on a team. I’m coming to my senses. The Maple Leafs are the stock with no ROI and continuing to invest in this is just throwing good money after bad.
Only by making a stand can you hold these kings of perpetual mediocrity accountable. Doing anything else just further perpetuates the cycle. And I can’t do that anymore.
Where that leads, who knows? I’ve never played this course before. All I know is that sometimes in one-sided relationships the best thing you can do is just pull back and take a break for a moment, or make a break if that’s what it comes to. To find something else you can believe in, or at least get away from something you can’t.