Celebrating Excellence

One day, I will tell my unborn children about the legend that is Harry Leroy Halladay III. They will learn how Doc dominated baseball's toughest division, throwing complete game after complete game, while forever protecting the honour of his teammates.

Thanks to a ball aimed at the bulbous David Ortiz, with Boston having clinched a playoff spot, and the Toronto Blue Jays once again playing out the stretch, the legend of Doc grew to larger than life proportions on a chilly autumn night in September. No matter the standings, and no matter the score, Roy Halladay will let no one, especially not Jonathan Papelbon, take advantage of his team.

The incredible irony of it all: it went down in what might have been Halladay's final start as a Toronto Blue Jay. Poetic, no? Doc could have been ejected, but it certainly didn't matter to him.

If it was goodbye, Doc ended the Toronto chapter of his career the only way he possibly could have: with a complete game shutout in Fenway Park. And that's how I'll remember him. As the man who brought the Evil Empires to their knees.

We all thought we couldn't possibly respect, adore, and appreciate Roy Halladay any more than we already did. We were wrong.

I’ve said my piece about Mats Sundin. Over and over and over and over again. I also said goodbye, back in February.

So it was with less of a heavy heart than expected that I learned that Sundin had officially hung up his skates for good.

First: relief. There will be no repeat of last year’s “will he or won’t he?” fiasco.

Second: rage. The garbage spewn about on Twitter after Sundin’s announcement is not worth linking to. It only reaffirms the fact that there are a legion of so-called Leafs fans whom I want absolutely nothing to do with. If you chose the day Sundin officially left the game as yet another day to bash him, you’ll never fully grasp what he accomplished as a Toronto Maple Leaf. (Read: You're an idiot.)

Finally: adulation. I felt, and still feel, the urge to scale Toronto’s highest building and yell at the top of my lungs: “Mats Sundin: Greatest Maple Leaf of All-Time!!!!1” I'm thinking my balcony will be suffice.

Many great men – Wendel Clark and Doug Gilmour in particular – have worn the “C” in Toronto. Sundin was better than both of them, and he will always be my captain.

Thanks for the memories, Mats.

Passing the Torch

“If every instinct you have is wrong, then the opposite would have to be right.”

- Jerry Seinfeld, to George Costanza, in “The Opposite.”

Another season without a captain leading our beloved Maple Leafs? I’m off the idea. Huge.

Allow me to get straight to the point: captain Luke Schenn. Not in 2012. Right now.

No big announcement, no press conference, no interviews. Nothing. Simply young Luke stepping onto the ice on opening night with the “C” on his shoulder, adding to what will already be an electrifying night at the Air Canada Centre. Imagine that.

Going captainless in 2008/2009 was the right thing to do after Mats Sundin left town in all the wrong ways. Toronto didn’t get to say goodbye to, and close the door on, Sundin until a cold, snowy night in February, when Mats returned home wearing another blue and white jersey, this one with a touch of green.

Closure. We needed it. We got it. And now it’s time to move on. Now it’s time to pass the torch.

Think about it: only 12 months ago, I was clamoring for Schenn to be sent back to Kelowna. I was one of many who thought another season of junior hockey, and a trip to the World Junior Hockey Championship, was what was best for Schenn’s development. And I was wrong. Gloriously so. Watching Schenn play in the NHL – and play well – was a joyous experience. I learned plenty about our young stalwart on defence. So did guys like Evgeni Malkin and Tyler Kennedy.

I know what you’re thinking, because I’m having the same doubts: Schenn’s too young; too raw. He’ll celebrate only his 20th birthday on November 2nd. He’s got work to do in order to improve his own game. The pressures of being captain in this hockey-mad city of ours are exactly what Schenn doesn’t need on his broad shoulders.

Yet, moving forward, there’s no doubt about it: the Toronto Maple Leafs are Luke Schenn’s team.

And, channeling my hero George Louis Costanza, if every instinct I have about Luke Schenn is wrong, the opposite would have to be right.

"SimmonsSays"

Right off the top: I don't read Steve Simmons' work. In this case, it just happened. And while I hate to do this, Simmons leaves me no choice. This one's for you, CoxBloc ...

"The normal July selloffs in baseball are of players with expiring contracts, which makes the Roy Halladay situation all the more confounding. Why the need to trade him now? Why is it necessary, with another season left on his contract, not knowing what next year will bring, who the new president or general manager will be, or how this Blue Jays team will be comprised? Why not try to build around him for what could be his final season in Toronto rather than make this his final weekend with the Jays?"

A) Doc isn't a lock to be traded.

2) J.P. Ricciardi knows his asset is going to test free agency. He wouldn't be doing his job if he didn't put Halladay on the market, as he's done.

D) We all know the Jays can't afford to let Halladay walk for only two compulsory draft picks. Well, everyone except Mr. Simmons, clearly.

And now, some fun with numbers: if a team, say, I don't know, the Philadelphia Phillies, acquires Doc today, they have him guaranteed, apart from injury, as part of their rotation for eight months. If the Phillies acquire Halladay next July, in 2010, they've got him for two months. You tell me, is eight greater than two? Very good. If the competition wants Halladay for eight months, along with his exclusive negotiating rights, the price goes up. Bottom line: Doc's value will never be higher. Math; it's some crazy shit.

"Clearly J.P. Ricciardi lacks the vision and the creativity to build a winner. That much we know. So we reiterate the question we asked last week: Why, if Ricciardi is certain to be gone, is he the one handling the Halladay trade talks? And why, if he will have nothing to do with the future of the Jays is he involved in the transaction that supposedly will set this team up for the future?"

Amazing. Simmons goes out his way to point out that Doc is under contract through 2010, but fails to mention that same fact about Ricciardi. Nicely done. And let's file the "Ricciardi is certain to be gone" statement alongside "Mats Sundin needs immediate hip surgery, and may be forced to retire." (No, Simmons will never live that one down.)

As for the potential trade, even my mom, upstairs, knows that the Halladay decision is not being made by Ricciardi alone; J.P.'s not hiding in a closet at the Rogers Centre, making the deal on his cell phone. Assistant GMs Alex Anthopoulos and Tony LaCava are heavily involved, as is Paul Beeston, and ownership. To suggest that Ricciardi is making the decision all by his lonesome is, well, Toronto Sun reporting.

"A Ricciardi question: Has there ever been a more unpopular GM in Toronto history? And that's including Gerry McNamara and John Ferguson Jr."

A Simmons question: Has there ever been a more unpopular sports reporter in Toronto history? And that's including Howard Berger and Damien Cox.

"Used to think Scott Rolen was a real pro until he turned down a simple television request for an interview the other day. Hey Scott, this ain't St. Louis, pal. Part of the millions you make is to try to sell the product ..."

The fact that Simmons no longer likes Rolen makes me like the hulking third baseman even more. GBJOAT - Greatest Blue Jay of All Time.

"When Mark Buehrle threw his perfect game this week, he became the 17th White Sox pitcher to throw a no-hitter. That's 16 more than the Jays can boast."

When the Chicago White Sox won the World Series in 2005, it was their first title in 88 years, since 1917. That's one fewer than the Jays can boast. But, yeah, keep working on those no-hitters and perfect games, Jays pitchers. Just one? Pathetic.

Never. Reading. Simmons. Again.

I don't want to talk about it ...

And neither does The Ack. But, really, we're left with no choice.

It's not news that J.P. Ricciardi will listen to offers for Roy Halladay; that's his job, fools.

What is news, and worthy of a drink or seven, is the fact that Ricciardi has "spoken with [Doc] and prepared him for the possibility that he will bring trade possibilities to the pitcher in the weeks or months ahead."

Now that, that is fucked up.

I love Doc. With all my Blue Jays fandom being. In all my years, I've never seen anyone do it better. But if he won't sign a contract extension, and I completely understand him potentially not wanting to, Ricciardi's got to trade him. Period.

I found it ironic that on the night Halladay speculation hit the fan, Marc Rzepczynski, fresh from the minors (he's never had an ERA higher than 2.93, at any level), went out and threw a gem against a very tough, all-star riddled lineup. Can we keep him?

Look, all I know is that I can't deal with another superstar - especially Doc, THE superstar - leaving town and the Blue Jays receiving nothing in return, a la Carlos Delgado. I just can't. He's in the middle of the Sports And The City banner, for fuck's sake.

The chances of a trade are slim. But the lure of 2010 may not be enough to get Doc's signature on the dotted line. Basically, we're fucked. The team, the fans, the banner; everyone.

If Doc leaves, I trust in Ricciardi that the package coming north will be formidable. If Doc leaves, he'll also take a part of me with him. His new team will become my new team; team 1A, if you will. (First Mats, now Doc. This is some bullshit.)

There's nothing I want more than for Halladay to win the World Series. Because I know there's nothing Halladay wants more. In a perfect world, it happens in Toronto. But if I've learned anything over the years, it's that dreams of this nature don't come true.

It's not about the money for Doc. Never has been. He's the anti-A.J. Burnett. It's about giving himself the best odds to win, as the window closes, ever so slowly, year after year. And I can't be mad at him for that.

I will always root for Harry Leroy Halladay III. Whether in a Blue Jays uniform, or another.

In grief-stricken times such as these, I'm looking for positives. Any positives. Here's one, I think, from Blair Facts, which should be high atop your Monday morning reading list:

"After watching Roy Halladay's face following Johnny Damon's cheap homerun at the new Yankee Stadium on Saturday, I guess it's safe to scratch the Bronx as a possible future destination for Doc."
- Jeff Blair, GlobeSports

Thank God. Anywhere but New York, or Boston. Please.

Looks like I picked the right year to embark on Mission: Doc, a quest to watch every Halladay start at the Rog Mahal. It might be his last.

(I promised myself I wouldn't cry.)

UPDATE: If Rogers gives the green light, and that's a HUGE if, put a four-year $80 million extension in front of Doc. If he signs, and Rogers allows the payroll to balloon (I'm thinking $120 million) so the Jays can surround Doc with the necessary parts, end of story.

If Rogers doesn't give Ricciardi the green light to show Doc the money, or surround him with adequate talent, well, then he must be traded.

It's really up to Rogers, not Ricciardi.

Way too many ifs.

UPDATE #2: "Ricciardi acted on Doc's orders." The fuck? If that's the case, just keep it in mind, Ricciardi haters.

Oh, Doc.

UPDATE #3: From Joel Sherman, of the New York Post: "This is not a decision initiated by Halladay. In other words, Halladay did not come to Toronto and say, 'get me out of here, my baseball biological clock is ticking and I want to go some place I can win and get paid.'"

Not that I believed Doc was behind this, but it's still a relief.

However, as The Ack pointed out, the money quote, from J.P.:

"We have kept him from free agency twice and I don't think we ahve the resources to keep him from free agency a third time, so I have to investigate what is out there. But my gut feeling is no trade gets done because we value him as one of the five best players in the game, and I don't think people will meet the price tag for that kind of talent."

For now, that's the final word.

Truculence? Check.

Brian Burke, if nothing else, is a man of his word. Saith Burke, back on November 29, 2008, when he became the man to fix the Toronto Maple Leafs:

"The first thing and probably the easiest thing to change on your team is the amount of the snarl, the amount of the bite. That's an important part of how my teams play."

July 1st has come and gone, and the Leafs have increased their snarl and bite quotient tenfold, thanks to the acquisitions of Colton Orr, Mike Komisarek, and Garnet Exelby. It's safe to say the winds of change have arrived. Burke is making this "his" team.

I'm rather pleased with the additions. Mostly because I hate all three of those guys.

Here's what I've written about Komisarek in the past:

"...Komisarek is a douche. If there's one guy on the Habs I want to kick square in the groin, it's Komisarek.

"Mike Komisarek's an All-Star? Fuck off, Montreal."

There's even a tag on the blog in honour of Toronto's newest defenceman: "Mike Komisarek = douchebag." Obviously, it will never be used again. He's our All-Star defenceman now, yo.

Yesterday, I loathed Komisarek. Today, I look forward to seeing him don the blue and white, along with the alternate captain's "A." Welcome to the good side, Mike.

The "A" on Komisarek's jersey will come from the sweater of the departed Pavel Kubina. He will be sorely missed. I enjoyed Kubina's time in Toronto, especially his booming shot from the point, and am lamenting the fact that one half of the Czech connection on defence has been traded away. Such is life. Players, they come and go.

In return, in Exelby, the Leafs get another stay-at-home defenceman I've never particularly liked. Mostly because the bastard tried - rather well, I might add - to decapitate Mats Sundin.

Well, Exelby's a Leaf now, and here's why his tenure in Toronto might be slightly arousing:

Komisarek and Exelby bring zero offence to the table. Instead they bring a penchant for open-ice bodychecks, something lacking around here since the days of Russian warriors Dmitri Yushkevich and Danny Markov. And that scratches me right where I itch.

The two also can't possibly not help improve the Leafs' absolutely fucking pathetic 74.7% penalty killing percentage.

Speaking of bringing nothing to the table offensively, that brings us to Colton Orr. He fights. That's it, that's all. He is what he is. And at $1 million a season over the next four campaigns, I'll take him over Brad May, Andre Deveaux, Ben Ondrus and, especially, Ryan Hollweg any day of the week.

Of course many Leafs fans, never satisfied and always bitching, are wondering when and who Burke is going to land up front. (Rick Nash, 2010!) Sure, I've got questions as well, and was hoping Burke might land Mike Cammalleri or Brian Gionta, who both ended up in Montreal, land of the midgets. But I'm with Burke: the back-end was rightfully the Leafs' first and foremost priority.

On a quick aside, the best news of the day was the free agent forward signing that didn't happen in Toronto: Chris Neil, along with his ugly mug, remains an Ottawa Senator. While I rooted for Bryan Marchment in a Leafs uniform, even I have my limits. Crisis averted. And, still on Ottawa, I love Dany Heatley. Anyone who fucks the Senators so gloriously gets a pass in my books.

Back to business: the Leafs allowed an embarrassing 293 goals last season; worst in the league. They scored a respectable 250 goals. Sure, Nik Antropov's 21 goals, Dominic Moore's 12 goals, and Pavel Kubina's 14 goals are gone, but I'm not worried about it. I fully expect Nikolai Kulemin to improve on his 15-goal rookie campaign, and John Mitchell to pot more than his rookie total of 12. Nik Hagman's a 30-goal man if healthy, there's no way Lee Stempniak scores only 11 goals in 60 games again, and I believe Jiri Tlusty is ready to make the full-time jump to the NHL after becoming a point-per-game player in the AHL.

The goals will come. I haven't even mentioned the collegiate cats Burke was able to sign a few months ago. But it's time to focus on what's wrong with this team, and not worry about what might or might not happen up front. The priority, as it rightfully God damn should have been, and as Burke clearly signalled it was with his moves, is getting that 293 goals against number down to 230. And I'm confident our new defensive core - a shut-down threesome of Luke Schenn, Komisarek and Exelby - along with a healthy Vesa Toskala and soon-to-be-signed Jonas Gustavsson (there's no way Burke's NOT getting him), can make that happen.

Don't get me wrong; if in the coming days Burke can add a forward, preferably a centre, I certainly wouldn't mind. It would be the icing on our truculent, stay-at-home defencemen cake. Mats Sundin, anyone?

Rooting for Marian Hossa

Weird, eh? Trust me, I know. But read me out.

In my defence, the Ottawa Senators' stank Hossa used to be afflicted with has worn off. He was last a Senator way back in 2004; a long time ago, when even the Maple Leafs were good. Five years later, I want Hossa to win the Stanley Cup. With the Detroit Red Wings. In Pittsburgh.

I never thought the day would come, but I respect Marian Hossa. I respect the decision he made last summer to sign with the the Detroit Red Wings. He made it for the right reason: to win the Stanley Cup. And in choosing Detroit over the Penguins, Hossa's one win from vindication.

Every hockey player is one game, one shift, and one injury away from having his career ended. Hossa left a ton of guaranteed money, and years, on the table to chase his dream.

Now don't get me wrong; Hossa got paid. He made just under $7.5 million this season. But he could have banked $9 million a year in Edmonton, or signed a multi-year deal with Pittsburgh estimated at about $50 million. And I can't help but admire that. For some reason, I don't want Hossa's decision to leave Pittsburgh and sign with Detroit to come back and haunt him.

Most of all, I appreciate Hossa's desire to win. If Mats Sundin truly wanted to win a Stanley Cup, he would have signed with the Red Wings last July (Detroit wanted him), or called Ken Holland mid-season and agreed to play for the league minimum. Instead, by signing with Vancouver, Sundin chose the route he took in Toronto: get paid, and play for a team with not the best shot, but a shot.

I believe Mats wanted it. Bad. Just not enough. Not as bad as Hossa wants it.

His Ottawa tenure a thing of the past, I'm hoping Hossa is high on Brian Burke's July 1 to-do list. Marian's a star; thirty-years-old, a proven 40-goal man, and only two seasons removed from a 100-point campaign with Atlanta. And, possibly as early as tonight, a Stanley Cup winner.

UPDATE: Read this post from James Mirtle. It's hard to win the Stanley Cup (understatement of the year). I'm not going to rip Hossa for giving himself the best shot to do so. 

Is this goodbye?

There will be no game seven. And I'm all Carl Thomas-like emotional.  

Honestly, never would I have imagined that Roberto Luongo would allow seven goals in an elimination game. Not when his team scored five. My heart goes out to the Vancouver Canucks' captain. I would have cried after that performance, too.

Mats Sundin, my pride and joy; a goal and an assist. In keeping with the truthiness theme, he never looked right in a Canucks uniform. Mats looked a step behind; disinterested. But he still put up the points. Like he always did.

I won't lie, it was a rough night. I donned my Sundin jersey in the third period, hoping for some Mats magic. It came; he scored the fourth Vancouver goal. Foolish me, I thought it might end up being the winner. Not even close.

When it comes to Sundin, the Vancouver media and Canucks fans will be ruthless today, and in the coming days. So-called Leafs fans will take their shots at Mats as well. It's not going to be pleasant. I imagine I'll be drinking a lot of Forty Creek. 

Looking back, the way it all went down, there was never meant to be a happy ending. If last night was goodbye, regardless of the jersey, thanks for the memories, Mats ...

UPDATE: It's 5:30 AM, and I can't sleep. It's beginning to sink in: Sundin will never win the Stanley Cup. Fuck.

UPDATE #2: Eight points in eight games. One. More. Year. Come home, Mats ...

Believe ...

Believe that tonight isn't the end of the line for the Vancouver Canucks, and Mats Sundin.

Believe that for Vancouver, and especially for Sundin, there can still be a happy ending.

Props to my man dlbrows for sending the video my way. Make sure you check out his tumblr: Go Jays Go.

You know, it's unfair, but it's all up to Roberto Luongo now. And all I know is this: when facing elimination, in the enemy's barn, there's no other goalie I want between the pipes.

Believe that there will be a game seven.

Go Canucks.

The Vancouver Canucks will win the Stanley Cup

You probably want to know why I think so. Well, the answer is rather simple: Roberto Luongo.

He's the best goalie on the planet. And his groin injury, the one that caused him to miss almost two full months of action this season, is the best thing that could have happened to him, and the Canucks.

For once, Luongo is well rested. In fact, he's just heating up. Including Vancouver's first-round sweep of the St. Louis Blues, Bobby Lu's played only 58 games this season. The last time he played less than 60 games, and saw just over 3000 minutes of action, was all the way back in 2001/2002. That was a long time ago. The Toronto Maple Leafs were good back then.

Since 03/04, and post-lockout, Luongo's been a 70-plus games goalie. This is the first season since the 2002/2003 campaign that he's faced less than 2000 shots on goal. That's huge. 

Luongo tearing his groin was a blessing in disguise. He returned to action near the end of January, and found his game on February 3. Of Vancouver's final 30 regular season games, Luongo lost only six of them in regulation. Since February, he's been a man possessed.

Luongo's save percentage in February: .914.

Luongo's save percentage in March: .930.

Luongo's save percentage in April: .918.

Luongo's save percentage so far in the playoffs: a ridiculous .962.

Have I told you lately how much I love a good save percentage? Swoon. I won't lie, Luongo's playoff stats leave me all hot and bothered.

The second round of the playoffs (!!!!1) begin tonight and, make no mistake about it, this is Roberto Luongo's time to shine. If there's a goalie who can take his team to the promised land on his back, it's he.

Vancouver still has a ways to go, but I'm looking forward to seeing Gary Bettman present the Stanley Cup to a goalie for the first time. There isn't a more deserving captain.

And here's hoping Mats Sundin shows up for the rest of the Canucks' run, and is worthy of being second in line to raise the most beautiful trophy in professional sports. I've imagined the moment many times, albeit in a Leafs jersey and not a Canucks jersey, and look forward to crying like a schoolgirl when it comes to fruition.

For the haters ...

Mats Sundin's first playoff goal in five years. Blood, shiner, and all. Paying the price. And it was a game winner, of course.

Welcome back to the post-season, Mats. Enjoy your stay. Inshallah, it shall be a long and fruitful one.

Bandwagoning

Did you hear that? It was me. Hopping aboard the Vancouver Canucks' bandwagon. Whole-freakin'-heartedly.

The Leafs are done. The dream has been packed up and put away until September, when we shall meet again. Until then, I'm all about Vancouver. Playoffs!!!!1, Canucks style. 

Mats Sundin is going back to the post-season. For the first time since 2004, when I was, like, five years old. It's been a long, long time. Excitement is there.

Mats may not win the Stanley Cup with the Canucks. I know that. I'm just glad he's getting the chance...

PS: It's not Leafs, Sundin, or Canucks related, but remember to vote in the new poll.

Thieves in the Night

This one's for my man Lloyd the Barber ...

Black Star. Making me choose between it and Reflection Eternal is akin to making me choose between Mats Sundin and Dougie Gilmour, or Mario Lemieux and Wayne Gretzky. There is no right or wrong answer.

The following is from Wikipedia:

The title [Black Star] is a reference to a shipping line founded by Pan-Africanist Marcus Garvey ...

The centrepiece of the album, "Thieves in the Night," was inspired by author Toni Morrison's novel The Bluest Eye. In the album's liner notes, Kweli explains that the paragraph "struck me as one of the truest critiques of our society, and I read that in high school when I was 15 years old. I think it is especially true in the world of hip hop, because we get blinded by these illusions." The excerpt interpolated in the song is as follows:

And fantasy it was, for we were not strong, only aggressive; we were not free, merely licensed; we were not compassionate, we were polite; not good but well-behaved. We courted death in order to call ourselves brave, and hid like thieves from life.

And the version on the track:

"Not strong, only aggressive/Not free, we only licensed/Not compassionate, only polite (now who the nicest?)/Not good but well behaved/Chasin' after death so we can call ourselves brave, still livin' like mental slaves/Hiding like thieves in the night from life/Illusions of oasis making you look twice.

Amazing, eh?

There's more. Check out the following. Mos Def and live jazz music is an incredible combination ...

Mos and Kweli released Black Star back in 1998. Should the two of them return to the studio to make another album together, it would be like your favourite team winning a championship, 11 years after their first title. Needless to say, it would be a beautiful thing.

The Raycrap Report Vol. 9: It's happening...

You know, I went a whole month without writing one of these. It was good. A much needed respite from the goaltending disease known as Andrew Joseph Ernest Raycroft.

But my man in Colorado has been playing some games. Poorly, of course. And I think we all knew it was only a matter of time before that happened.

Anyway, I've decided that I'm not going to be so hard on Raycroft anymore. He's a terrible goalie. I think we all get it. Life goes on.

The only thing that matters from here on out is that, so as to keep the laws of the universe in proper working order, Vesa Toskala finishes the season with a higher save percentage than Raycroft. That's it.

And as you might have noticed, there now exists a sidebar on your right called "The Interns of the Iced Igloos," in honour of the one and only Joe Bowen. That's where I'm keeping score.

Thanks to a meagre .877 save percentage in his last four games (three losses and a no-decision), Raycroft's down to .894 on the season. Toskala, after his stellar February, is only half a percentage point behind him.

Well done, Vesa. You're almost there, my Finnish friend.

It's happening. The universe is righting itself. And it's a beautiful thing.

Deadline Day

It's tomorrow. And it's kind of a big deal.

Are you giddy with excitement? Or are you, like me, praying that come 3:00 PM eastern time on Wednesday, Tomas Kaberle is still a Toronto Maple Leaf? 

Look, you don't trade a guy with that much talent, at that price tag ($4.25 million), when you know the salary cap will be coming down. Period.

Plus, we need him for our PLAYOFFS! run.

Anyway, if you're hanging out on the internetz tomorrow, my man Down Goes Brown will be live-blogging the festivities, beginning first thing in the morning. Join him. And if he makes any rental player jokes about Mats Sundin, give him hell.

Mats Sundin: The Return...

The game on his stick, Mats Sundin did what he's done so many times in a blue and white jersey on Air Canada Centre ice: he sealed the deal. This time, wearing green as well, he did it to the Toronto Maple Leafs, instead of for them. And it was beautiful.

I doubt I could have written a better script: A beautiful standing ovation in Sundin's honour. Sixty-five minutes of entertaining hockey. A 2-2 game. A shootout equal at one. And Sundin, the yet to be replaced former Leafs captain, with the final word.

Backhand. Shelf. Stick side. Money.

A triumphant, and fitting, return. The game-winning goal. A first-star selection. And I was there. It was perfect.

Let's talk about that epic first period ovation. Leafs fans showed their class, and gave it up for their captain. I'm not sure I've ever heard the ACC any louder. The game waited. Chants of "Sundin! Sundin!" broke out. Mats got emotional. There may or may not have been some dust in my eye, causing severe discomfort to the point of tears. All of a sudden, my overpriced purple seats were worth every penny. It was magical.

Throughout the game, I hollered in support whenever Mats touched the puck. Some made the wrong decision to boo #13, but my fears of being severely let down by the Toronto faithful thankfully did not come to pass. Sundin was well received, as he should have been, and both Canucks and Leafs fans were cheering when he put the puck in the net to end the game.

Of course, there were the token douchebag Sundin haters. I happened to run into two of them after the game. The clowns, one of them with Xs through Sundin's name and number on his jersey, were yelling "Mats has the clap! Mats has the clap!," and talking smack to anyone in a Sundin jersey, myself included. As you can tell, really classy individuals.

Long story short, I: may or may not have engaged them in some intellectual conversation hurled some obscenities their way, am impressed by the promptness of security folk at the ACC, take the Mats-hating of others, especially drunk morons, way too seriously. For I am eyebleaf, "Lord of the Idiots."

While it was Sundin's night, I can't write about being in attendance without mentioning Vesa Toskala. He was fantastic. Went save-for-save with Bobby Luongo, the best goalie in the world, and looked good doing so. Way to not slut it up while I was in the building, Vesa.

Back to business. You know, I have memories of Sundin in a Quebec Nordiques uniform, so many years ago. I don't, however, remember him scoring against the Maple Leafs, although I'm pretty sure he did. After last night, I'll never forget.

About a year ago, we never got to properly say thanks, or say goodbye. Last night, we got to do both.

Thanks for everything, Mats. Including one more magical night. While you'll forever remain a Maple Leaf to me, you're now officially a Vancouver Canuck. Go and get that Cup.

Mats Sundin Montage...

If I learned anything at all from Team America World Police it's that, sometimes, "we're going to need a montage. Oh it takes a montage..."

I forgot to say...

Thank you.

I'll be honest, there was some wellage of tears during #93's tribute on Saturday night.

I was proud, not emotional, when Wendel Clark's number was raised to the rafters. But I found myself dabbing the corners of my eyes when Doug Gilmour was immortalized. I still maintain that all the dust, you know, in my mom's basement had something to do with it, but I can't lie to you. Gilmour was worth the tears. After all, the pride of Kingston, Ontario was one of the main reasons I got into hockey. 

Growing up, I wanted nothing more than to be the second baseman for the Toronto Blue Jays. Roberto Alomar was my hero, my idol, my God; my everything. Until Gilmour arrived.

After Cliff Fletcher brought Dougie to town, he was quick to capture the heart of my older brother. Thinking back, I was one of those annoying kids who followed his big brother around, and wanted to be just like him. In no time, Gilmour had my heart in his hands as well.

All these years later, it's tough to look back. The Gilmour years were magical. Straight magical. Some of my fondest memories as a Leafs fan come from that era, when Gilmour ran the Leafs, and ruled this city. But he left with unfinished business. Like so many before him, and like Mats Sundin after him. 

Gilmour came back, though. He found his way back home. I was at the Saddledome in Calgary, with my brother, back in 2003, when Dougie donned the blue and white once again. It was like a dream. Until he blew out his knee, and missed the playoffs. It then became a nightmare. For Gilmour, for the Leafs, and for us, the fans, it simply wasn't meant to be. And I will never, ever forget that collision.

Those who know me, and I trust that many of you who read this space regularly do by now, know what Mats Sundin means to me. But there was something special about Gilmour. Sundin was fantastic as a Maple Leaf, statistically the best ever, but he was no Gilmour. I'm not sure we'll see the likes of #93 around here again.

Gilmour arrived in 1992. He was gone by 1997. In only five short years, he left his mark on the collective soul of a hockey mad city. Although he was never able to get there as a Toronto Maple Leaf, his number now rests where it rightfully belongs: at the top.

Thanks, Dougie...

AttaBlake!

It's true; I drafted Jason Blake in my fantasy hockey league way back in September. You know why? Because I believed in the little guy. And he rewarded my faith in him last night. Yes, he most certainly did.

If Blake's five-point performance (a hat-trick and two assists) wasn't his way of telling former Maple Leafs coach Paul Maurice to go fuck himself, I'm not sure how else he can get the point across. The two never really got along last season, and Blake now has 13 goals, only two less than he bagged in 82 games under Maurice's tutelage.

So, I wonder what the Blake haters are going to have to say today. Probably that 17% of #55's 29 points on the season came last night. But you know what? I don't give a shit. And you know why? Because the Leafs needed every one of those five points.

Hate him all you want, and complain about his salary until you're blue in the face. Be my guest. The hating, whether it's directed at Blake, or Mats Sundin, or Tomas Kaberle, kind of gets me off these days. The numbers don't lie, and Blake is on pace for a 25-goal and 56-point season. And at $4 million a year in today's NHL, that's exactly the type of performance you're going to get. 

Jason Blake is paid accordingly. Yeah, I said it.

If you're one of the people who gave Matt Stajan props for responding to a trip to the press box early on in the season, you owe Blake some of the same loving. He was in Ron Wilson's dog house for a while, but has responded as well as anyone could have expected, and good for him. Blake, if nothing else, has proven that he's a battler. And I can respect that.

For those of you who watched the game on the tube last night, yes, that is exactly how the Leafs drew it up. A blown four-nothing lead, you know, to get the tanking advocates all hot and bothered, and a five-point performance from one Jason Blake.

Hate Blake if you must. It's your constitutional right. But you can't deny that his performance yesterday was worthy of one tremendous fist pump.

February 21st

The return of Mats Sundin. It's official: I'll be there, in the stands, in my #13 jersey, and on my feet in appreciation of the man, the legend.

What? No, I don't get tired of writing about Mats. But thanks for asking.

Tickets went on sale Saturday morning for next month's big game. Of course, attempts to score seats through Ticket-fucking-master were futile. I got up early for nothing.

But I've managed, thanks to one of the seven wonders of the internet, to find a pair of purples for $280. A ridiculous price, I know. But one I must pay.

I was there in Edmonton back in 2003, row one behind the glass, when Sundin scored the 1000th point of his career. I was in attendance at the ACC in October 2007, when Mats became the highest-scoring Toronto Maple Leaf, ever. And I'll be there when Mats returns. Much like the picture above, I will welcome him home with open arms.

$280? Mats is worth every penny.

NHL 94

Sometimes, late at night, I wish I still had my Super Nintendo. I mean, don't get me wrong, NHL 09 on the XBOX 360 is sublime, but NHL 94 might be the greatest hockey game ever made.

The body checking, the slapshots, and, oh, for the first time in hockey video games, the one-timers.

I made beautiful music with a number of teams:

Toronto Maple Leafs: Doug Gilmour, Dave Andreychuk, and Nikolai Borschevsky, with Dave Ellett running shit on the point. Enough said.

Chicago Blackhawks: Jeremy Roenick was an absolute force at centre ice; he could do it all. His slapshot might have been the game's best. As a youth, I developed a man-crush on J.R. solely because of NHL 94.

Quebec Nordiques: Ah, the good old Nordiques. Joe Sakic, Mats Sundin, and Owen Nolan, with Steve Duchesne and Curtis Leschyshyn on the back end. The goaltending was weak, I think Stephane Fiset was the starter, but I always made sure to score a boat load of goals with the youthful Mats, whose NHL 94 slapshot rivaled Roenick's.

Pittsburgh Penguins: Mario Lemieux, Jaromir Jagr, and Kevin Stevens. Let me tell you, it was one-timer madness. And the rugged left winger Stevens was always good for a cheap wrap around goal when I needed one.

Good times.

And, for the record, I was, and still am, arguably the greatest to ever play NHL 94 on the SNES. If you've got the system and the game lying around, holla atcha boy, for old times' sake.

Dear Mats Sundin,

It's tough to play in an NHL game after eight and a half months on the sidelines, isn't it? I know, you're used to your regular four month layoff (zing!). 

On a more serious note, it was great to see you again. You looked good. I've got to admit, though, it was a bit strange seeing you in that jersey. It just didn't look right. I'm sure, deep down, it didn't feel right for you either. But we'll both get used to it. Eventually. Together.

I guess Alain Vigneault was really trying to make you feel at home, sticking you between Kyle Wellwood and Mason Raymond. I guess he thinks that since you've played with shitty wingers, save Alex Mogilny, almost your entire career, there's no reason for that to change. Hopefully Vigneault will come to his bloody senses and at least have you lined up with Pavol Demitra on Friday.

All in all, it was an uneventful debut. It's going to take you a few games to find your legs, and your timing. But your new team won, and that's all that matters.

Things are alright here in Toronto, Mats. Don't worry about us. You focus on things in Van-City. I'm sure you're wondering why the hell we traded for Brad May. So am I. I'm beginning to think that May is, in fact, Brian Burke's illegitimate son.

Anyway, take it easy, buddy. I'll see you on February 21st.

Your boy for life,

eyebleaf