May 18, 2003

Now that I'm beginning to emerge from my cocoon of grief over the Leafs being out of the playoffs - AGAIN - I can perhaps begin to express my sorrow that for yet another year, the Cup won't be coming home. (Any Canadien fans can bugger off - we all know that despite the record amount of time spent in Montreal, Lord Stanley never really felt at home there.)

Canada did just win the World Championships and although I rejoiced at our victory, it's just not the same. Everybody knows that Canada is the world's best.

But my Leafs - alas - will they never fulfill my dreams? I can go down to the Hockey Hall of Fame any day of the week and gaze at photos of Leafs of yore (1967 to be precise) hoisting the Cup with as much reverence as if it were the Grail, but the lustre of old victories dim with time. But this - this is heartwrenching.

The only thing I can compare it to is staying with an impotent man because you love him so much.

When The Great One retired, I cried. I did. I couldn't sleep for weeks after he left the Oilers and went into an abrupt decline when he got tangled up with that American hussy, Janet whatshername and bought a house in California. Fine for a shag, sure, but did he really have to marry her? So she can breathe through her ears, but I know what all the penalties mean and how to call them -- in French. Janet probably thinks a puck is something one tosses into urinals.

But the pain of Wayne's betrayal is nothing - nothing - compared to the brutalizing I receive every year at the hands of the Leafs. Am I a fool to believe their lies? Is it merely the manly tones of Don Cherry or Ron McLean's boyish charm that draws me back year after heartbreaking year?

I've suffered greatly and every other Leafs fan can say the same. Ridiculed as losers -- or worse, dismissed with a wordless snort -- fans of the old blue and white find themselves objects of pity and hilarity among fans from the rest of the country. Sadly, the question "So you're from Toronto?" is swiftly followed by "Leafs SUCK!" and I've learned to bear it as best I can.

As downcast supporters all over town add "LF" to the first and third word in their "Go Leafs Go" signs, I sadly take my flags down and put them away - early, too early.

The rest of the world just doesn't understand how much hockey means to Canadians. And to everyone in Ireland: it's just HOCKEY, OK? Not "ice" hockey.

I know it must be hard for outsiders to understand. Perhaps an anecdote would be more illustrative:

It's Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final, and a man makes his way to his seat right at centre ice. He sits down, noticing that the seat next to him is empty. He leans over and asks his neighbour if someone will be sitting there. "No," says the neighbour. "The seat is empty."

"This is incredible", said the man. "Who in their right mind would have a seat like this for the Stanley Cup and not use it?"

The neighbour says "Well, actually, the seat belongs to me. I was supposed to come with my wife, but she passed away. This is the first Stanley Cup we haven't been to together since we got married in 1967."

"Oh ... I'm sorry to hear that. That's terrible. But couldn't you find someone else, a friend or relative, or even a neighbour to take the seat?"

The man shakes his head "No. They're all at the funeral."

Till next time.

Morrigan