Game 46: The calm after the storm

You know the feeling you get in a relationship after a nasty fight? The anger has subsided. Apologies are extended. Both parties are quiet, subdued, walking around on tenterhooks in the remorseful aftermath?

That's what tonight's game felt like.

The Toronto Maple Leafs – I now feel the need to be more formal with this team – beat Anaheim 5-2. They outshot the Ducks 37-28. J.S. Giguere was solid against his former Cup-winning team. Mikhail Grabovski banged in another two goals, becoming the first Leaf to reach the 20-goal plateau and leaping into a tie for eighth spot in the entire league.

Good, good, good, good… and yet on tenterhooks we walk.

To be honest, I found it hard to concentrate tonight. After what happened Wednesday, this was a surreal game to process, like it was unraveling in slow motion, in a parallel universe, where moments worth celebrating still carry the unspoken threat of blunt-force trauma to the soul.

The usual yelping and post-goal fist pumping into the air was instinctively replaced with a tentative half-smile, as if my brain was saying to my heart: "I remember the nasty fight last night in New York. Don't you forget."

That's the real tragedy of this topsy-turvy season. Due to the vertiginous ups and downs, but mostly the downs, we are now guarded, on edge, weary, vaguely nauseous. The nasty fights have created a toxic environment in which the bad memories make it harder and harder to appreciate the good acts.

Objectively, there was plenty to admire about the game played by these Toronto Maple Leafs. The hitting, the passing, the grittiness, the playmaking. Dion Phaneuf was strong defensively and punishing physically. Tyler Bozak played one of his best games in recent memory. Clarke MacArthur – God bless that spark plug for starting the engine so many times this season – was a force to be reckoned with, picking up a goal and two assists.

Good, good, good, good... and yet on tenterhooks we walk.

Our own Dr. Waffles was at the ACC. This was his view.

What happens next? Who the hell knows. The only predictable thing about this team is its jarring unpredictability. The only map we have in our pockets is a tattered note that says, "There is no map. Sorry. You're on your own."

So on we march into the great unknown, into the valley of ups and downs. Our expectations are now set to muted. Our chins are up, barely. But for once, it's just nice to go to sleep and not be mad.

BOTTOM PHOTO: VINCE TALOTTA/TORONTO STAR

Game 45: Leafs fly to New York, forget to pack dignity

When my father doesn't like something, he usually calls it a "horse's ass."

Telemarketers, pens that don't work, Nutella, gasoline prices, Bill O'Reilly, feather pillows – to my Dad, all this stuff is a "horse's ass."

I don't know if he watched tonight's game shellacking. But if he did, my guess is he spent two hours on his feet, pointing at the TV and calling every single player in a white jersey a "horse's ass."

That's definitely what I did.

What else is there to say? What else can any of us say?

Why did this team even bother crossing the border? Why not just stay in Toronto and catch up on Dexter or Entourage while sipping hot chocolate? Why not just kidnap a troupe of elderly butterfly catchers, blindfold them, herd them onto a Greyhound bus, drop them off at Madison Square Garden, strap rusty knives to the bottoms of their sensible shoes and then shove them toward center ice?

God knows they would have fared better.

What the hell was that? WHAT. THE. HELL. WAS. THAT?

Were the Leafs secretly drugged before the game? Did they party too much in NYC last night? Are their legs still tired from the last two games? No, wait, that couldn't be it because their legs got plenty of rest during the last two games.

Why do these guys even have legs? Shouldn't they at least have the decency to saw off their legs and give them to people without legs, people who deserve legs so much more? And why waste money on expensive hockey sticks? Why not just steal the butterfly nets from that elderly troupe and spend the rest of this season chasing lunar moths around the tropics?

The final score? Not sure. It was like 7-0 when I tossed my TV into a snowbank and rifled through the pantry to see if we had any arsenic. The highlights? None to speak of, not unless you count my wife's stifled giggling as she passed by at one point and said: "Oh my goodness! Is it zero to five for the New York Yankees?"

I'm not going to bother glancing at tonight's box score. I'm not going to bother describing the horrific chaos, the death-wish plays, the shocking apathy, the utter lack of dignity, the zero tolerance for effort, the one-sided skills competition they passed off as an NHL game.

Screw it. If this is the best these magnificent bastards equine bums can summon for the alleged "biggest game of the season," I'm not wasting a second of my time researching or crunching stats or searching for positives. I'm not even embedding pictures into this post beyond the image at the top because, really, that says it all.

Tomorrow may be another day. But tonight there is a stench, one that's familiar to people who live on farms. And this stench shall linger for quite some time.

What the 2010-11 Leafs can learn from the 1992-93 Leafs

 

MEMO TO ALL MAGNIFICENT LEAF BASTARDS:

This is it. There's no more time for sloppy starts or nervous breakdowns in the third. There's no more room for lost games that you should have won, could have won, would have won if only the universe were more cooperative.

The playoffs are still the target, right? That's what team officials insist. So here's the deal: Your fate will crystallize over the next six weeks. You are the makers of your own destiny.

Starting tomorrow at Madison Square Garden and ending February 27 in Atlanta, you play 18 of 19 games against Eastern teams, including 10 against squads now perched directly above you in the standings.

The good news: The New Year has ushered in success. A 5-2-1 record means you have corralled 11 of 16 possible points in 2011 and have four games in hand on 8th place Atlanta. The bad news: You remain 12 points on the wrong side of the post-season line and venture into New York on the weakness of two dreadful efforts against Phoenix and Calgary.

But with your indulgence, I'd like to talk about 1992-1993 Leafs.

I know, right? Who cares? Most of you were dragging toy trucks through sandboxes when that Leafs team ignited five-alarm passions with thrilling playoff victories over Detroit, St. Louis and nearly Los Angeles (sigh).

But while it was a fantastic time to be a Leaf fan, believe it or not, the spring we will never forget only came after a winter of discontent.

After a Boxing Day loss, the 92-93 Leafs were playing .456 hockey – worse than your current .466 winning percentage.  After 44 games, they were 20-17-7, which means they only had two more wins than you do right now after the same number of games.

That team was in a dogfight for a playoff spot with St. Louis. Stop me if any of this sounds familiar: There were also stories about underperforming forwards and error-prone defenders. There were nagging doubts about special teams and goals against.

Then without warning, that team changed the narrative. The 92-93 Leafs team rewrote their own biography.

Over the last 40 games, they went 24-12-4. This meteoric rise included two 3-game, one 4-game and one 5-game winning streaks. They went from having "great potential" to just plain "great."

So what happened? Well, for starters, Cliff Fletcher – who had previously obtained Doug Gilmour in one of the most lopsided trades in NHL history – realized there was still an important piece missing from his puzzle. So on February 2, he traded a veteran goalie with a Stanley Cup pedigree (Grant Fuhr) to Buffalo for a big forward with soft hands (Dave Andreychuk).

Can a similar trade happen this season? It's within the realm of possibility.

Now, look. I don't want to sound delusional or create ridiculous expectations. But there are parallels between that team and your team. So in advance of this critical stretch in the schedule – this make-or-break period – here are Five Valuable Lessons To Be Learned From The 1992-93 Leafs:

1. EMBRACE YOUR ROLE

We tend to remember the flashbulb memory heroics of Doug Gilmour or Wendel Clark or Felix Potvin. But what we often forget is the little things other players started doing consistently after Christmas: Peter Zezel's masterful work on draws. Mark Osborne killing penalties. Bill Berg getting under the skin of opponents like a toxic microbe. Ken Baumgartner answering the fisticuffs bell without incurring foolish penalties.

That Leafs team was defined by selfless plays, not selfish players. That team was an assembly line in which everybody knew his defined role and nobody tried to do too much. It was all about the greater good. It was all about building something.

2. YOU CAN'T WIN CONSISTENTLY UNTIL YOU HATE TO LOSE

In mid-January, after a 5-3 loss to Chicago, coach Pat Burns went ballistic. "We were out-worked, out-hit, out-hustled, outshot and outscored," he told reporters. "All in our own building. That's disgraceful. I was disappointed in their pride. I thought there was more pride than that on this team."

Contrast those statements with many of the ho-hum shrugs and feeble excuses that make up the catalogue of 2010-2011 post-game sound bites. And now consider this: After that game, the Leafs only lost three more times at home during the regular season. They hated to lose and suddenly it showed.

3. EMBRACE YOUR PHYSICAL ADVANTAGES

Before Christmas, that Leafs team was surrendering a shocking number of goals. They were giving away the puck. They were losing one-on-one battles. But then defencemen – including Bob Rouse, Sylvain Lefebvre, Jamie Macoun, Dave Ellett and Dmitri Mironov – started playing cohesively as a unit.

They started delivering punishing hits. They started clearing out their net. They started making life miserable for opposition forwards. They started using their size and toughness instead of trying to be something they were not. They found a way to match their on-ice play to their on-paper promise.

4. REMEMBER THE FANS

Hockey has become a business. For too many players (on all teams), it is simply a job. But one thing that Leafs team did extraordinarily well was stay hyper-aware of their fans at all times. This wasn't disingenuous posturing. This wasn't a cynical ploy. No, throughout the second half of the season, the subtext of what many players said during post-game interviews contained some element of fan awareness.

They were in this for themselves, of course, but they were also in this for us.

When he was honoured during the last regular season game, Gilmour clutched a microphone, stood at center ice and promised: "We're going to do something for you guys yet."

5. PLAY WITH URGENCY

Starting in January, the 92-93 Leafs played every shift like it was their last shift. They went into corners with fearless abandon. They stormed the opposition net. The D defended, the forwards buried their chances.

By early February, you rarely heard a player say, "We were tired" or "We just didn't have it tonight." They put pressure on themselves to win every game. No excuses. They were visibly enraged when the other team jumped ahead. They paced before games and blocked out distractions. And they never lost sight of the proverbial prize, which at first was a spot in the playoffs, and then, success in the playoffs.

Anything less was unacceptable.

PHOTO: COLIN MCCONNELL/TORONTO STAR

Guest Post: Why the Leafs should keep Tomas Kaberle

The Value of Loyalty

BY MOE GREEN

Let's re-sign Tomas Kaberle to a long-term deal. No, I didn't say trade the bum at the deadline for a second-rounder. You read correctly: Let's re-sign him. To a long-term deal.

To my way of thinking, loyalty should be worth something in the NHL. Quite a lot, actually. The Kaberle situation is unique. He is the longest-serving Leaf. He is a former all-star. He is a soft-spoken, thoughtful player who you can count on to play a clean and honorable game. He is, if nothing else, a class act. A rarity in a league chock full of brash, young, disrespectful players and outright louts and goons.

Kaberle is also a good puck-mover. With a very few exceptions, there's no one on the team who I'd rather see with the puck when the other team is bearing down on a forecheck. He is cool, sometimes frustratingly so. He sees the ice well and is a brilliant passer. He is one of the few Leafs who consistently puts it on the tape.

He has taught Luke Schenn a thing or two about composure. He sits 33rd in shots on goal for defensemen. That's more than Jay Bouwmeester, Chris Pronger, Drew Doughty and equal to Kevin Bieksa and Sergei Gonchar. Though he only has one goal this year, he sits 12th in the league in points among defenders.

And he has more assists than the next three Leaf defencemen (Beauchemin, Schenn and Phaneuf)... combined!

Trouble is, Kaberle is also second-last in the league in shooting percentage (only teammate Phaneuf is worse). For a guy who is a pinpoint passer, a guy who once won the accuracy competition at the all-star game, this chronic misfiring is a mystery.

He's also playing this season like a short-timer. He has only one minor penalty – quite a feat for a Top 4 defenceman in the NHL. It's almost as if Kaberle is afraid to get a boo-boo. And I'm not sure I blame him.

Does Kaberle like or respect Ron Wilson? If you believe the off-hand remarks Kaberle's father made over the summer, the answer seems to be "no." Ron Wilson has a certain style. None find it charming, though some could argue it's been effective through a long career. Wilson has at times called Kaberle fat, soft and even benched the long-serving veteran. And no one can deny that removing the "A" from his sweater was a classless act.

Whether he resigns or is fired, and close friendship or not, I don't think Wilson will be along for the ride past the end of his contract. He may not even be back next season. So If Kaberle is re-signed by Burke, you can virtually guarantee he will outlast the coach he probably doesn't like.

And rightfully so.

Finally, a lot of people will invoke the Sundin Argument and say they don't want Kaberle because he is not a "winner." What does this mean? Does it mean players such as Sundin and Kaberle "don't have what it takes" because they won't waive their no-trades and move to a contender at the deadline? Does it mean "winning" is more important than who you play for?

For the people making this argument, a guy who plays out his career with the team he loves, for the city he calls home, is in some way a "loser." Whereas guys like Ray Bourque or Marian Hossa – hired guns who change teams for a twilight shot at a championship – are "winners?"

I see it completely differently.

To me, those guys are nothing more than self-serving mercenaries. There is no honour in changing sides to win. I don't think history will look more favourably on the careers of Hossa or Bourque because they won a Cup. I'm trying to imagine Rocket Richard changing teams to join the Leafs to add to his arsenal of Cup rings. I know it was a different time. But I think he would rather have died than worn the Blue and White.

So re-sign Kaberle. Offer him a deal below market rate to stay. Where are we going to get as consistent a point producer and puck mover for less money? Sign him to a three-year deal, if he'll have it, for what he's making today. Not only will you solidify the defence for the Leafs' Cup run in 2012, but you'll have sent a message to the team that is far more valuable than money.

I think it's an excellent lesson to teach young players and the right kind of bait with which to entice future free agents. Just ask class organizations like the Detroit Red Wings. You'll have paid more than lip service to the notion that class and loyalty are worth something these days.

 

The pseudonymous Moe Green cheers for the Leafs while living deep in the heart of Texas. Now that's loyalty.

 

 

 

MAIN PHOTO: TARA WALTON/TORONTO STAR

Game 44: Sleepy Hollow

If nothing else, give the Leafs credit for tonight's unprecedented game plan.

Hey, any team can win by storming out of the gate, skating and hitting, passing and shooting. Any team can win with energy, focus and desire.

But what the Leafs did tonight, now that was truly special. These pioneers attempted to win a game by lulling the entire Western hemisphere into a coma. They tried to win by bumping into each other, not shooting, giving away the puck, not skating, hugging each other on the bench, not passing, staring into space, not defending and leaving their veteran goalie pretty much on his own.

These hockey innovators tried to win by actually not trying to win.

If you missed the first 58 minutes of this grim snoozefest, you actually didn't. But if you're determined to replicate the excitement of those first 58 minutes, you could always break into a Madame Tussauds museum after closing and strike up a conversation with a wax statue of Lyndon B. Johnson while nibbling on a slice of construction paper.

Oh, and don't forget to punch yourself in the face.

It was Marcel Mueller's first NHL game. But Marcel Marceau could've done the play-by-play tonight given how little there was to call.

Yes, Mikhail Grabovski tied the game with 13 seconds left in the third to salvage a point before the S.S. Slumber glugged down in choppy seas. And, yes, the Leafs were forced to kill a questionable penalty in overtime. And, also yes, we already know this team will never be featured in a future book titled The Idiot’s Guide To Winning An NHL Shootout.

But despite this burst of late-game energy – this coda to the coma, if you will – the Leafs simply wasted a chance to creep up in the standings by not getting serious about winning until it was almost over.

Six shots in the first? Really? Six shots in the second? No... really?

It was as if the dazzling road trip was suddenly a false memory. It was as if the Leafs were trying to remind us of something: They will not hesitate to slash giant holes into our souls just when it looks like they've lowered their knives.

I mean, this thing nearly ended as a 1-0 Calgary road shutout victory with Matt Stajan scoring the only goal. As unlikely events go, that's the final score equivalent of getting hit twice by lightning after splitting an order of suicide wings with Noam Chomsky at Hooters.

I don't know. You know? I just don't know.

This is one of those nights in which I feel sorry for us, for Leafs Nation. We should not be losing all feeling in our extremities watching this utter Crappy McCrap on a Saturday night. We should not be glancing at the out-of-town scores in mid-January, our fingers crossed with hope, our eyes crossed with tedium.

There was a "Go Leafs Go" chant sometime in the second period that almost made me weep. So few people were participating. You could actually hear their individual voices. Seriously. It was like a "Go Leafs Go" chant as performed by the saddest barbershop quartet in the world.

I guess the question is, "Now what?" Does this team get back on track? Or do we now spend another couple of weeks in the forest at night, ducking reality as the Headless Horseman gallops past?

What a game. So sleepy, so hollow. Such an absurd waste.

Game 43: In which I pretend that never happened and gaze into a crystal ball

It was just after midnight when I first attempted to write this dispatch.

The Leafs were in Glendale, Arizona. Maybe it was the arid climate. Maybe it was the subtropical sun. Maybe it was the distant mountains.

Whatever the reason, before the Leafs arrived at Jobing.com Arena – what the hell kind of name is that for a hockey rink? – their circadian clocks were rewired by unseen forces and, without warning, they slipped into a deep sleep while the game was still underway.

"Game 43," I started to type. "In which I pretend that—"

Suddenly, my eyes called a time-out.

Me: "What? You need me to blink? Clean our glasses? Visine?"

Eyes: "We're not doing this now."

Me: "Excuse me? We have to do this now."

Eyes: "Piss off. It's been a long week. We're done."

I tried to continue without them. I swear to God, I tried. But without my eyes, my fingers typed words such as xojaljeg and sleibalk and tlwolkjslbpqiwobn. Everything got real blurry.

Now, look. I have never made excuses for this team. But if we as fans felt utterly bagged after just watching this Western road trip, imagine how the team felt after playing three games in four nights in three cities in two time zones.

Their legs were like our eyes: They were done.

So, yes, the Leafs ran out of gas at the end of a very successful road trip. Nine goals against Atlanta? Back-to-back wins in Los Angeles and San Jose? Even last night, before the third period started, it was only 1-0. They were asleep but thanks to James Reimer, they had a chance to wake up in time.

When you're running on empty, you tend to miss the net, botch your chances and conserve rather than accelerate. But here's the more important development, even if the Leafs choose not to see it on this travel day: As the sun was setting in Arizona, our magnificent Leaf bastards ran out of gas at critical fork in the road.

Do they veer left, toward a city called Rebuild? Or do they merge right and travel down a bumpy highway called The Possible But Unlikely Mad Dash For The Final Playoff Spot?

If they go left, I'm guessing, J.S. Giguere starts Saturday when the Leafs return home to play Calgary. In fact, we'll see a lot more of Jiggy between now and the trade deadline next month as the bus stops to jettison certain players while welcoming new guys aboard. We may have also seen the last of Reimer for now, impossible as that seems.

If the Leafs go right, they carry three goalies for an indefinite period. Not an ideal situation. Reimer will play more, lots more. And Jonas Gustavsson will remain in the vehicle, albeit mostly in the back seat where he'll stare out the window with sad eyes while listening to depressing alternative music on his iPod.

Are we playing for the future? Or are we playing for now? Do we somehow ignore the wins and losses and showcase assets that may appeal to other teams and, in turn, bring us key missing ingredients for a new beginning in the fall? Or do we believe this brilliant start in 2011 – let's face it, a 5-2 stretch seemed unfathomable before Christmas – can realistically be sustained over the next three months?

If the Leafs feel they can play above .600 with this team configured such as it is, they should obviously step on the gas and go right. Patience be damned. Let's see what happens. Let's see what these guys can do.

But if there's any doubt – even if this doubt is never conveyed to us – the Leafs should quietly go left. By all means, yes, compete every night. Tell us you're trying your best. Tell us the playoffs are still the goal. But deep down, understand this season has slipped away and the present is the future.

Here's the most important thing: It's time to make a decision.

 

 

Left or right, a song for the road, courtesy of the good people at hockeygods.com

Game 42: When Sharks are attacked by a kid named Reimer

Before tonight's glorious triumph, the Leafs last win in San Jose took place on March 26, 1997. That same month, James Reimer turned 9-years-old.

Nearly 14 years later, the kid from Winnipeg did something no Leaf goalie has managed to do this season: He stole a game.

This was blatant larceny. It was highway robbery inside a Shark Tank. And as grand theft goes, it was also a thing of beauty.

All night, the kid smothered the puck as if he was trying to kill it. He was square to every shot. He controlled rebounds the way a strict nanny controls sugary treats. He directed his teammates with the calm-and-order influence of a traffic cop in a school zone. His movements were spare, sometimes impossible to detect, as if he was actually a state-of-the-art cyborg operating in power-save mode.

It's weird. This kid is freaking me out. He is freaking me the hell out. After only five starts – which now include 4 wins, a .947 save percentage and 1.92 goals against average – Reimer has completely transformed my Leafs-watching experience.

I'm not muttering apocalyptic rants at the cats when the Leafs trail after two periods, as they did tonight. I'm not wincing and watching with one hand pressed over one eye when the other team hems the Leafs into the defensive zone, as occurred several times tonight. I'm not holding my breath when the bad guys toss the puck around on the power play, as San Jose did four times tonight, including once with a two-man advantage.

In short: I no longer expect bad things to happen. But more important, neither do the Leafs.

You want a summary of tonight's game? Here goes: The Leafs trailed 1-0 after 40 minutes. They got into some penalty trouble in the second, thanks mostly to officiating that might charitably be described as "bizarre." They were outshot 42-26 and out-chanced 2-1.

No matter.

As I told the kitties during the second intermission: "Wake up! You guys are going to miss Ron Wilson's 600th career win!"

You could just feel it.

San Jose, you see, could not do what other teams have managed to do this season before we entered the Reimer Era: They could not create a panic. They could not smell Leaf blood because Leaf blood was diluted by the ice water in Reimer's veins and masked by the smoke billowing from the fire inside his belly.

In other words, Game 42 was the exact opposite of so many games we have witnessed this season. Instead of losing but deserving to win, the Leafs won but maybe deserved to lose. (It feels so much better this way, doesn't it?)

Instead of smashing their sticks and staring up at the rafters with gnawing frustration after the opposition goalie contorts through endless heroics, the Leafs smirked and remained cool as Reimer harpooned the Sharks, eventually giving his team a chance to start a feeding frenzy of their own.

And that's exactly what happened.

In the third, the Leafs scored four times on six shots, including a spectacular move by Phil Kessel; a power play backhand for King MacArthur; a nifty deflection by Carl Gunnarsson; and, finally, an-empty-net-breakaway-insurance-marker for the King again.

Throw up your arms to celebrate. This improbable uprising continues. Consider this your warning in advance of Thursday, Phoenix.

These magnificent Leaf bastards now have four wins in a row. Over the past 10 games, they are playing .600. Since the new year started, they are mending our mangled expectations.

They are making this campaign seem less of a disaster and more of a work-in-progress, one that's increasingly steeped in long-term hope.

If there was a downside to tonight's tremendous win, it was the absolutely horrific thought that James Reimer may soon be returned to the minors. I mean, what? WHAT? No. NO! This simply can't happen.

It would be like winning 100 million bucks and then voluntarily living like a hobo. It would be like buying a fancy car with airbags and ABS and then driving around without your seatbelt.

The Leafs have run into many hot goalies this season. Now they have a hot goalie and they're thinking about letting him run away?

Insanity. Pure insanity.

So at this ungodly hour, once again, let me issue a plea, once again, to the powers that be: Do not deprive us of Reimer. Do not take him away from us, not now, not after what we've already endured.

Do not force us to hatch kidnap plots that involve cube vans, duct-tape, abandoned warehouses and Jiggy or Goose. Do not make us form a torch-bearing mob and burn the ACC to the ground in protest.

Do not make us expect bad things to happen again.

This season has suddenly turned into a thrilling ride thanks to a kid from Winnipeg. Don't make it stop. Don't bring a hasty and profoundly unwise end to the Reimer Era just as it's beginning.

 GAME PHOTOS: CHAD ZIEMENDORF/REUTERS

Game 41: The Leafs are reborn in the City of Angels

I probably shouldn't be writing at this ungodly hour. Not when I'm wired on Red Bull and adrenaline and bliss.

But screw it.

If Colby Armstrong can remove his visor after one period and hustle with a scratched cornea and face that looked like it was vandalized by toddlers brandishing Crayola markers, I can surely type a few words. If every single Leaf can avoid a negative plus-minus, the least I can do is be positive at 2:14 a.m.

You know how it seemed like we tumbled through a gap in the space-time continuum sometime after Game 5? You know how it felt like we were stuck in an abusive relationship, trying our best to remain faithful to a team that was cheating on us with a temptress named Mediocrity?

Well, let the healing begin. Let us trust these magnificent Leaf bastards once more. Maybe it won't last. Maybe we'll kick them out again. But for now, let us place our faith in a 2011 resurgence that is as inexplicable as it is increasingly spectacular.

Toward the end of tonight's rousing 3-2 victory over the Kings, this was the scene:

Less than two minutes remained. Dion Phaneuf was in the box for slashing. LA pulled goalie Jonathan Quick for an extra attacker. It was 6-on-4 as the crowd inside the Staples Center wobbled to its feet, preemptively clapping for the equalizer.

But our suddenly reliable Leafs refused to comply. They refused to disappoint us.

They swooped and dove after the puck like marine birds bobbing for fish. They jumped in front of shots with insane bravery. They won faceoffs and hammered opposition skaters along the boards. They set-up in box formation and stood their ground, fighting for every positional inch of ice as every second of time ticked down.

And when the buzzer sounded, when their fourth consecutive road win was relegated to history, they swarmed the mighty James Reimer who stopped 30 of 32 shots, including all 17 in the third.

Before Reimer skated off the ice, his ruddy cheeks drenched with rivulets of sweat that cascaded down his brow, Ron Wilson grinned – he smiled! – and pumped hands with his assistant coaches, including Tim Hunter who was celebrating his 1,000th game.

And who could begrudge any of this celebration? Yes, there's a lot we can still be mad about this season. But the Leafs begged our forgiveness with another impressive road game. Against a very good, very fast team that drives the net and takes no prisoners in the corners, the Leafs put on a clinic in grit, heart, poise and confidence.

If the game against Atlanta was a statistical aberration, this one felt like the New Normal. If Game 5 to, say, Game 36, felt like we were stumbling around inside a pitch-black labyrinthine maze – one step forward, three steps back – Game 41 felt like we turned a corner and ambled up a ladder toward the light.

It wasn't just the goals: the nifty create-a-screen snap shot by Darryl Boyce; the flawless one-timer by Phil Kessel; the never-say-die rebound hunger of Nikolai Kulemin. It wasn't just the puck-moving defence or the stellar goaltending.

No, the most impressive aspect of tonight's game was something that's not quantified in a box score: Even when they allowed the first goal, even when LA was pressing, even when the referees were paying homage to Kerry Fraser with a startling number of missed calls, the Leafs always looked like winning was the only logical outcome.

They believed in themselves. They are making it impossible for us to not do the same.

Apologies if this recap is freighted with maudlin overtones. I'm just really happy and hopeful. The good Leafs, they've come back to us.

PHOTO: LUCY NICHOLSON/REUTERS

Game Day: The road trip continues and more from the Ron Wilson interview

Adjust your sleeping habits, warn your boss about lost productivity and get ready to cheer (hopefully) in the wee hours: The boys are out West this week.

Tonight, it's Los Angeles. Tomorrow, let's hope they know the way to San Jose. Then on Thursday, the magnificent Leaf bastards cross the state border and venture into Arizona.

Two games at 10:30 p.m. + one game at 9 p.m. x 96 hours = Groggy Leafs Nation.

Colby Armstrong suffered a scratched cornea after getting sucker-punched by Atlanta's resident douche, Ben Eager. Colby is wandering around with an eye-patch and tinted shades, looking like a pirate who also moonlights as a rap producer.

Fingers crossed for his future depth perception.

The Leafs are on a roll. The playoffs may still seem like an impossible dream, but it's a dream they continue to chase.

"We look at the standings every day," Mike Komisarek told me last week, before the road trip started. "You work hard all summer. You come to training camp and do the testing. You battle every night not to go home at the end of the season and to have nothing to show for it."

It sounds like James Reimer will be returned to the Marlies, sooner than later. On an operational level, maybe this makes sense. But if the playoffs are still the goal, it makes no sense at all.

"I've been working hard and playing pretty well in practice," Reimer told me the other day. "I feel confident."

His confidence is contagious. In every start, you can actually see this confidence leap from his mask and pads and infect every other player on the ice. When he's in net, the Leafs are skating, passing, shooting and scoring with lethal proficiency.

For crying out loud, let the kid play.

***

At the end of my recent interview with Ron Wilson, I opened my laptop and walked around to his side of the desk.

"Take a look at this," I told Wilson, who put on his reading glasses.

The previous evening, I noticed someone had vandalized his Wikipedia page.

The final line, which has since been removed, read: "As well, under Wilson, all players are encouraged to consume waffles (a carb) after a loss."

He laughed and shook his head: "I wonder if the guy who did that is the same guy who threw the waffles."

Here now, a few more outtakes from the interview...

On why he does not read hockey blogs:

"Why would I read somebody's blog? I'm actually here. You know, I live this! I'm in the middle of it. I know what's going on."

On helping players cope with the swirling trade rumours:

"Generally speaking, the guys who would be the most susceptible to anything like that would be a veteran player with, let's say, a couple of kids who doesn't want to move anywhere. But when you do hear a rumour that is absolutely not based on fact at all, you basically tell the player, 'Look, these things aren't in any way true. And don't even think that that is being considered.'"

On what he would change about his job:

"I wouldn't change anything. It's the greatest job in the world."

On consistency:

"If you go over most of our games, you could say we play well for 56 or 57 minutes and have a bad two or three minutes. Often times, we make a young player type of a mistake and it ends up in your net. If we can fix up those minutes that we have when we don't play well during a game, our record would be much better."

On the mood inside the room these days:

"I think the mood is excellent. I'd be shocked for any player to say that it wasn't. Our practices have been good. I honestly think the mood's been great."

On his life away from the rink, which these days mostly includes movies and the occasional restaurant meal:

"It"s actually quite a boring life to be perfectly honest with you."

On whether "blue-and-white" disease has been eradicated:

"Well, to an extent. That's something you always battle. This isn't like smallpox where everybody is immunized and in 10 years nobody is going to get it. It's always a constant battle and we try to identify players."

On the media:

"You have to deal with the media and you have to understand that they are the link between our team and the fans and there's information that gets put out there. But too often now it's not reporting, it's critiquing. There aren't any reporters any more because everybody has already watched the game. The game is not reported, it's critiqued."

On why he recently referred to the local media as "piranhas":

"It's not with regards to me. The 'piranhas' is how they'll get all over a player, not give a young player enough space to actually grow. Plant ideas. A young player will have a great game and he gets built up when he shouldn't be. A young player has a bad game and he gets knocked down when he shouldn't even be responsible for what happened. We're the ones who are putting him in a situation that he might not even be ready for."

On his perceived stormy relationship with the media:

"To me it's totally irrelevant because it doesn't really affect what I am doing as a coach on the ice."

On why he tells his players to avoid reading negative coverage:

"We tell our players not to read that stuff because it really doesn't affect anything they do on the ice. It's not going to affect our opinion. When you're young, it can affect your self-esteem if you read criticism about your play."

On the importance of blocking out distractions:

"To be able to play the game, you've got to put yourself in a world where you block out all the distractions. And media can be a distraction. It can overinflate your opinion of yourself, where you think you are better than you really are. The flipside to that is you might be better than you are being written about."

On the blurring line between reportage and opinion:

"Everybody is a columnist now. Nobody is a reporter. There are no reporters any more. It's an entirely different environment that gets, unfortunately, crueler every year because of what your editors are looking for to sell papers. My God, you go into hotels now you get every newspaper free because nobody will buy a newspaper."

Me: "You're depressing me, Ron. Seriously, you're bringing me down."
Him: "But that's the reality of it!"

"Hey Ref! Nice call! You're as clueless as a blogger!"

BOTTOM PHOTO: FRED THORNHILL/REUTERS

Game 40: In praise of a good, old-fashioned thrashing

Good morning, Leafs Nation. Correction: Great morning.

Actually, what time is it? WHAT? Wow. This recap is late. I've been too busy skipping and smiling and dancing around like that guy from those Viagra commercials.

Good morning, good morning, it’s great to stay up late!
Good morning, good morning, to you!

I just went downstairs to change the settings on my PVR. I usually save a recorded game for a week in case I need to reference a play. But last night's merciless destruction in Atlanta, yeah, that game shall be saved... forever.

Can you do me a favour? Can you put a checkmark in the following boxes to confirm I witnessed what I think I witnessed:

[] 9 goals
[] 9 consecutive goals
[] 5 power play goals
[] 4 goals during one five-minute major
[] 6 goals and 10 points for MacArthur, Kulemin and Grabovski
[] Atlanta goalies changed 143 times by coach Captain Picard
[] Total ass-kicking

That game was beyond surreal. It almost felt fictional, a deranged movie-of-the-week that was written and directed by two intoxicated Leaf fans after a bender:

Fan 1: "Dude, I know. Atlanta should score first, early in the game. That'll set up the narrative tension."

Fan 2: "Cool. Then the good guys go like batshit crazy! They score on almost every shot, as if their sticks have magical powers!"

Fan 1: "Awesome. And let’s write SIX goals into the second period scene!"

Fan 2: "Is that believable?"

Fan 1: "No. But it's our movie. We can do whatever we want."

Fan 2: "Who should play Ben Eager?"

Fan 1: "Who cares. We'll just get some meathead from the local pub."

I apologize if there was a delay in moderating comments last night. Instead of checking frequently, I was standing in front of my TV, numb and drooling, as the good guys ran up the score and shocked the tens of fans inside Philips Arena.

I wanted to pity those small children waving their pathetic, "Let’s Go Thrashers!" placards as the clock ticked down. But I was doubled-over and laughing uncontrollably.

And did you see the expression on Bill Watters’ mug when the second intermission started? Priceless. After predicting a big and easy win for Atlanta, Wilbur looked baffled and in considerable pain, like someone trying to count backwards from one million after getting smacked upside the head with a frying pan.

One million... Nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand... Nine hundred and – I like Grabovski! Really! I change my mind – ninety-nine... where was I?

Will we ever see another game like this one? Statistically speaking, probably not again this season. Or next. Or the one after that.

So I hope you enjoyed a sight and situation that was beautiful and special and rare. Game 40 was like finding a four-leaf clover just as Halley's Comet streaks overhead and Sasquatch wanders into a clearing to reveal next week's winning lottery numbers.

Congratulations on the incredible passing and shooting, gentlemen. Have fun in LA this weekend. Go nuts. You've earned it. No, seriously, I want to write stories next week about how Colby Armstrong got tanked at a Sunset hotspot and then peer-pressured James Reimer into geting a bulletproof vest tattooed on his chest.

And you know how Ron Wilson was explaining skewed numbers for special teams in yesterday's post? Get this: Before the Leafs annihilated Atlanta, the road power play was ranked 29th at 9.5 per cent. It's now at 14.8 per cent.

It catapulted up to 21st spot overnight.

Don't look now but those magnificent Leaf bastards are 3-1 in 2011. With a bit of luck against Boston, they would be 4-0. And over these four games, they have scored 21 goals. To put this in perspective: They scored 19 goals between October 18 and November 13.

Yes, after living by candlelight for most of this season, we are now experiencing a power surge. Sing along, won't you...

 

 

PHOTO: JOHN BAZEMORE/ASSOCIATED PRESS