Self Loathing In Leafs Nation

A media market has hooked it's fans on negativity. Time for therapy.

To hear Brad Marchand, the Joker-like nemesis of the Maple Leafs, plead to the good nature of his opponents fans was both condescending and complimentary, no matter how intentional.

The Maple Leafs lost another game 7, this time with an underwhelming effort as their stars were laid bare at the feet of the Florida Panthers and their collection of 3rd line reclamation projects.

William Nylander, the Leafs best playoff performer spent the most important moments of the series, where one might have been defending with intensity, standing somewhere between the hash marks and his own blue line like a tent pole. The dashing Nylander might have been better off stripping down like Ned at the conclusion of the movie Slap Shot, strip tease figure skating around the rink in only his jock strap and giving the fans a show worth seeing.

Regardless of whether the Leafs had taken the champs to Game 7, the pundit class began spinning their old something from nothing, sad sack, crypto grifts. What could the problem be? Who are these ‘passengers’ the mumbling captain hinted at post game? Surely not the past his prime poster boy youtube singer in an Elmo costume, taking selfies behind the bench and doom scrolling during the game.

It was Marchand and Bennett and Lundell, the character actors, who stole the show from leading man Barkov. The Panthers don’t need their stars to shine to win. Go figure. Bob the goalie was the Panthers best player, again. Hot goalies win Stanley Cups. Depth and great goaltending get you 16 wins. Poster boys sing songs someone else wrote.

All that sports media moaning about Sam Bennett on the Canadian 4 Nations squad, ended when he lifted a clutch goal over the shoulder of Connor (Too Far Back In His Net) Hellebuyck.

So it’s no surprise that even before Lord Stanley goes crowd surfing around the rink a few weeks hence, that talk radio types began musing about Marchand and Bennett signing with Toronto next year and righting the ship Shanahan sailed into an iceberg. Shanahan watching from above on the upper deck while is his captain turned a wheel with no rudder. All hat and no jib.

Marchand’s sympathetic consolations to Leaf fans in their moment of perpetual despair reminded one of the Sopranos. Marchand, the therapist to the the Leafs self-loathing mob of fans. Marchand, the good Canadian boy that can’t help but yearn for the well being of the self destructive ne'er-do-well, pouting in the chair in front of him. It’s all wrong but maybe he can fix it. Maybe if Dr. Marchand can get the Leafs Mob to come to terms with Mother Ballard and their spoiled children, the hate and anger that is destroying them from the inside can be relieved.

Maybe Lou Lamoriello was the better boss all along, the consigliere from New Jersey, pushed out to pasture by Shanahan in the early days of the Leafs rebuild. Lamoriello knows a few things about depth and great goaltending. Scott Stevens and Claude Lemieux were his fearless enforcers who could run you off the turnpike without thinking twice about it. Brodeur made sure no one got into the card game that wasn’t invited. Maybe now that Shanahan is gone, Keith Pelley can be the Leafs Barry Diller and come to terms with what lays in the shadows and make a movie with a better ending.

As the Knicks are to the Thunder, the Leafs are to the Panthers. No matter how fabulous SGA is, the sorrow of the Knicks will always matter more. Yet, the Knicks have the auteur Spike Lee court side and the Leafs have Bieber.

The roots of the Leafs Nation self loathing and negative rationalizations now run deep and long. The Hockey Night In Canada panel, the gold standard of sports broadcasting in North American, seems to have fallen into its own cycle of posturing and self loathing.

Kevin Bieksa now lords over the panel bullying and self aggrandizing like El Presidente, while Elliotte Friedman gimps for Bieksa’s affection putting himself down. Ron McLean’s haikus are no match for the smug Bieksa. The earnest and honest Rudy and no nonsense Botterill can only wait till Bieksa is finished, with himself, to make a point that isn’t.

Strangely is was Bieska who wondered out loud after the Leafs loss, even if naively, why it mattered so much if the Leafs won or not? Other fans around the league didn’t care that much, so why did Leaf fans? In typical contrast, Friedman spent the next day on his podcast and talk radio rationalizing and sympathizing with the self loathing of Leafs Nation. They had a right to throw jerseys on the ice or burn them in social media video vignettes. According to Friedman such behaviour was justifiable. Holding up a mirror. You don’t love the game, you hate yourself.

Over on TSN the Overtime panel had already given up after Game 5, or perhaps before. Blow it up, they say. Even if making the playoffs is hard, this doesn’t work.

Losing sells in Leafs Nation. The joy is gone. The negativity bias that saturates our survivalist human DNA and now digital culture, like Fox News, is also the business plan of the largest hockey media market in the world.

“Why can’t I be happy?” Tony Soprano asks his psychiatrist, “like the happy jack asses I see walking down the street.”

“What makes you happy?” ask the psychiatrist.

“I don’t know.” answers Tony, “I don’t know anymore.”