Trade deadline: Frantic inaction

The trade deadline is over and as night falls the Leafs remain the same.

After predicting movement, after stating interest in a puck-moving defenceman or a top-flight centre, Brian Burke did not modify his roster with any additions today.

Just before the 3 p.m. deadline, John Mitchell was acquired by the Rangers for a seventh round pick in 2012. But aside from Mitchell – recently demoted to the Marlies and no longer a cherished piece on the chessboard – the Leafs were about as busy as a narcoleptic ice fisherman in July.

"It was an uneventful day for us and that's kind of how we thought it would go," said Burke at his press conference this afternoon. "We had some lines in the water. We worked on a bunch of things. But none of the price tags for the things we worked on made sense."

What does this mean? It means the team is four points outside of the promised land and while this is better than most expected at Christmas, it is still not good enough for Burke to deviate from his long-range blueprint.

In the context of an unorthodox rebuild, the price for short-term help was too high and the league-wide inventory was too low. So instead of acting in haste and making a mistake, Burke chose a prudent path: keep the existing group together while protecting the picks and prospects acquired over the previous three weeks of "heavy lifting."

As it turns out, he was shrewd to get the jump on today's non-event.

So the next stage of rebuilding will take place during the draft and when the free agent market begins this summer. The future looks bright. The present looks exactly the same. What this (slowly) improving but (still madly) inconsistent team achieves this season now depends entirely on the guys already wearing the skates: No reinforcements are on the way.

The Leafs were not alone in embracing the status quo.

On a day in which sports networks started at 8 a.m. with the breathless excitement of news outlets before a war – elaborate graphics, swish sets, rampant speculation, countdown clocks, multiple panels, experts pecking at BlackBerries and staring into their laptop screens with increasing desperation – the trade deadline quickly turned into a day of frantic inaction.

The most popular phrases included: "Still not a lot to report," "Nothing happening yet," "Waiting for something to happen," "It's remarkably slow," "Something could still happen," and eventually, "It seems like everything already happened before today!"

Adding to the surreal spectacle were a couple of Twitter hoaxes, repeated flashbacks to last year’s trades, the nightmare-inducing sight of vintage Gino Reda mugs, disingenuous anticipation and the Leafs' inexplicable decision to offer the hockey-loving world a "live boardroom feed."

Yes, despite the fact nothing was happening, Leaf fans were treated to a glimpse inside the underbelly of trade day maneuvering as a web camera apparently purchased on sale at Best Buy this weekend streamed surveillance-grade footage of front office execs sitting around a non-descript table in their casual Friday attire while checking email, sipping water and reading newspapers.

Combining the drab lighting of a hostage video with the urgency of a traffic cam and the thrill of a church bake sale, the live feed showed us just how utterly boring a hockey team can be at the corporate level.

By strange coincidence, Swiss Chalet launched a new digital channel today that shows chickens spinning on spits 24 hours a day. It had more sizzle than all of the trade deadline coverage across all media platforms combined. (I snapped the picture on the left this afternoon after changing channels in a desperate attempt to scrub the image of Gino's 'stache from my long-term memory.)

So it's over. The trade deadline is finally over.

A puck-moving defenceman would have been nice. A power forward even nicer. But after today, I'm just glad we can return focus to the games, regardless of what may or may not happen between now and April 9.

MAIN PHOTO: CANADIAN PRESS

Game 63: When things go boom and deadline questions arise

When I was a child, we used to race our bicycles down a steep, winding street.

Some kids had fancy 3-speeds with aluminum gears. Others had BMX off-roads with matching accessories from Canadian Tire. One boy raced his sister's bike, despite getting razzed for the pink basket and glittery banana seat.

Then there was Mikey (not his real name).

Mikey was a couple of years older than most of us but in the same grade. With the help of his father – who worked with scrap metals – he built his own bike: a rim here, a patched tube there, mismatched wheels, repurposed steel bars, a mottled chain that looked as if it might spontaneously turn into soot.

One day, as I recall, a race started and Mikey was out in front, as he usually was since his freakishly muscular legs were the same length as our prepubescent bodies.

He was flying down that steep, winding street at supersonic speed. It looked like nothing could go wrong and victory was guaranteed.

Then without warning – the memory still makes me wince – his homemade handlebars popped out of the rusty frame and Mikey was at the grim mercy of time and motion.

"Are you okay, Mikey?" we screamed, slamming on our brakes, dismounting and running to our bloodied and bruised friend who lay moaning on the boulevard. "Mikey, you don't look so good!"

Watching the Leafs lose 3-2 to Atlanta in overtime, I was reminded of Mikey tonight.

The Leafs started quickly, building up a 2-0 lead. But when James Reimer left the game in the second period – apparently injured earlier when he took an Evander Kane knee to the head – it was if the team's handlebar popped out and a horrifying crash was all but inevitable.

The Leafs were able to keep their rudderless contraption upright for a bit. But like Mikey, once the speed wobble started, once they tried to salvage a bad situation by doing absolutely nothing except freezing, it was only a matter of time until they jumped the curb and went hurtling into a bush.

"Are you okay, Leafs?" we screamed at our TVs in the third period. "You don't look so good!"

So the most important weekend of the season is now over and we are exactly where we were on Friday morning: Four points out of the word we dare not speak.

This is where we can have a "is the glass half-full or half-empty" debate.

To wit: Did the Leafs pick-up two points in back-to-back games this weekend? Or did they squander two points in consecutive games? Are they undefeated in regulation time over their past seven? Or do they have two regulation wins in their last five?

Are they ready to pedal hard for the next month? Or are they running out of steam already?

Then as we head into Monday's trade deadline, there are even more questions after tonight's game:

GOALTENDING

1. How serious is Reimer's injury?

2. How much ice time can J.S. Giguere's groin really handle? Yes, the poor guy was left to fend for himself against Atlanta. Even still, he did not look capable of spending an entire day at Disney World without the aid of a motorized scooter.

3. What happens when Jonas Gustavsson's two-week conditioning stint ends? Is he physically and mentally ready to return? Can he play or will he snap under the pressure? Are the Leafs in the market for another goaltender only weeks after dressing three?

DEFENCE

4. Can Brian Burke find this mysterious puck-moving defenceman before the 3 p.m. deadline? What will he be forced to give up? Will it hurt or help the race?

5. Why are there so many defensive lapses in coverage after 63 games? Why are there still so many giveaways and mental errors? Why does it often feel as if the D is trapped inside a cage?

6. If no backend trades are forthcoming, who will replace Tomas Kaberle on the power play? Brett Lebda? Timmy Brent? Can homemade "experiments" work in the long-run or are they as doomed as Mikey's bike?

FORWARDS

7. Can the Leafs resign Clarke MacArthur or will the leading scorer be traded? What impact would his departure have on the team's top line?

8. Can The Phil Kessel Awesome Streak of 2011 continue for the remaining 19 games? What exactly can we expect from Joffrey Lupul?

9. Is something wrong with Mikhail Grabovski? In the six games since his heroic performance against Boston – during which he was crushed twice by Zdena Chara – Grabovski has not scored a goal, his longest drought since Dec. 6.

The truth is, I'm feeling more hopeful about this team than I have in quite some time. But as waffles2010 noted in the comments earlier this evening: "They are an incomplete hockey team. One that is capable of playing very well, and one that is equally capable of playing badly. They seem to have some pieces that are keepers, and a number that are clearly traders."

So get some rest. We line up at the top of another steep, winding street tomorrow morning.

PHOTO: TAMI CHAPPELL/REUTERS

Game 62: Bad goal bonanza

Moments after the shootout loss, another guest at the party yelled: "I'm not getting roped back into this fairy tale!"

The sheer exasperation and sincerity in his voice made me laugh into my beer.

Outside, snowflakes the size of silver dollars cascaded down in the orbital glow of streetlights. Inside the home of Star cartoonist Patrick Corrigan, friends and family gathered to celebrate his 60th birthday.

It was a grand affair – the party, not the game – that included hours of unidentifiable music, gourmet tapas, spirited conversation, rivers of wine and the vaguely unsettling sight of Patrick strolling around in a giant hat that looked suspiciously like a cake.

If not for Alex Kovalev's seeing-eye rocket in the shootout, it could have been a perfect night.

Well, not perfect, but two points instead of one better.

After Patrick's wife, Sue-Ann, wrongly accused me of turning on the game – I think it was the tall guy or maybe the guy with the beard or perhaps the young woman with the Australian accent – I tried to limit my time in the living room, where the muted action played like a silent slapstick comedy of errors.

But every now and again, I'd hear someone groan or sigh or yell or whoop and I'd tiptoe back toward the LCD flat screen to see the Leafs or Penguins celebrating yet another goal in high-definition.

So while I'm not able to provide you with any worthwhile observations the day after, I will simply provide you with 10 random observations, hockey and otherwise, based on what I heard and witnessed at the party:

1. After 18 games, James Reimer had his first shaky performance. Repeat: After 18 games, James Reimer had his first shaky performance. Me, I'm cutting him some slack, thanking him for the previous 17 games that made this race possible and looking forward to No. 19.

2. The exploration industry for precious minerals and metals may, in fact, be overrun with swindlers and pan-global criminal elements.

3. Thinking about buying a Mercedes? No, me neither. But if you do, prepare to pay a small fortune for service, especially after the major parts warranty expires.

4. Joffrey Lupul could be the most important X-factor for the Leafs down the stretch. Also, he is earning high "brooding" points from several female fans.

5. Should Toronto lobby the NHL to bring an immediate end to all Saturday night games next season? Is Hockey Night in Canada laced with bad karma since the opening theme changed? Why do the Leafs struggle on Saturday nights? Why don't people wear wrist watches any more? Who put this balled-up napkin with olive pits inside my blazer pocket? How on earth did I come home with only one sock even though I never took off my shoes?

6. Tender slices of roast beef with polenta on taco chips? Surprisingly delicious. Goat cheese followed immediately by carrot cake? Unsurprisingly disgusting.

7. When the Leafs surrender a goal with less than a minute to play in the first or second periods – or like last night, both – they almost never win.

8. There's a right way and a wrong way to do almost everything. Except panicking, losing your balance and wiping out on an icy porch after inexplicably mistaking an end table for a stray dog. There is no right way to do this.

9. Based on his expression last night, I'm starting to get a sick feeling about Clarke MacArthur's contract negotiations. Based on her expression at 10 p.m., I'm starting to think my wife secretly wants this team to fall short.

10. Watching a shootout loss with a group of charming strangers is like watching the mirror ball suddenly malfunction during its descent on New Year's Eve and get stuck at 11:59 p.m.

Profoundly disappointing.

So let's just be grateful for the point and forget this bad goal bonanza. Weird things happen in the universe when people start wearing cake hats. Sometimes, a seesaw battle ends with the good guys stuck up in the air during a snowstorm.

Onward!

The Most Important Game Of The Season™ is now less than four hours away in Atlanta, ground zero for a previous nine-goal outburst by the Leafs. So by the time we go to sleep tonight, fingers crossed, the magnificent bastards could be three points away from... you know.

How can we not stay roped inside this fairy tale?

MAIN PHOTO: VINCE TALOTTA/TORONTO STAR

Game 61: Speeding toward the light

I don't know where to begin. I am at a loss for words.

It's not just tonight's heart-pounding triumph in Montreal. It's not just the shrinking four-point gap that now separates this surging Leafs team from the word we dare not speak but can't stop thinking about. It's not even the climb back to .500 or the clutch performances we witnessed from so many in so many situations in a game they all refused to lose.

No, what's giving me pause – and it's an electrifying pause, to be sure – is a seismic perception that rumbled along the boards and floated above the neutral zone, that spilled along the bench and catapulted from the corners, that coated the defensive zone and powered the attack, wave after wave, line after line.

They believe in themselves. It's not just us anymore. They, too, believe.

And so on the night of February 24, inside a supercharged Bell Centre, this belief in what seemed improbable only yesterday, this faith in what lies ahead, ignited like a powder keg, flames licking at the black sky.

Make no mistake: The fire was everywhere.

It crackled in the first, as AC/DC’s "T.N.T." thundered to life and Mike Komisarek scrummed with Tomas Plekanec. It roared inside Ron Wilson's belly as his catatonic demeanor melted and he hollered at the officials with newfound urgency.

It raged inside Phil Kessel's narrow eyes as he battled for the puck like he's never battled before, working the boards, setting up behind the net, using his howitzer of a shot to score twice while assisting on two more.

You could even see the fire in Brett Lebda's outstretched arms as he pumped his fists after scoring his first goal since the discovery of insulin.

You could see it on Tyler Bozak's face when he converted those two Gretzky-like passes from Kessel or when he lined up for draws or when he made a lunging shorthanded play in the third that robbed the Canadiens of a sure goal.

And you could see the fire spread late in the game when the foot soldiers – Colby Armstrong, Fredrik Sjostrom, Joey Crabb – ragged the puck deep in the offensive zone with such red-hot tenacity, the Canadiens never had a chance to pull Carey Price for an extra attacker.

The magnificent bastards didn't just squeak out a 5-4 win, as a glance at the box score might wrongly suggest. They waged war for every inch of ice. They scored three goals on their first nine shots, chasing starter Alex Auld. They wove pretty offensive plays and defensive gems into a tapestry of relentless work, which was then wrapped tightly around Montreal's neck like a ligature.

Unlike earlier this season, when an opposition blitz caused them to collapse like a garden umbrella under a falling anvil, the Leafs never lost their focus or their composure or their belief in themselves.

Not when Montreal scored first. Not when Montreal scored two goals in 20 seconds early in the second. And not when Montreal sliced the score to 5-4 with 2:37 left in the third.

You know, as I sit here alone in my office as 2 a.m. approaches, I suddenly understand this feeling of speechlessness. I get it, which is to say, they get it. The race is on, there can be no doubt. 

But how the season now ends is the least of it. The important thing is they believe.

A toddler's laugh, a first kiss, warm sand on a beach at night – some things in life should not be scrutinized with the mind. Some things in life should just be enjoyed with the heart. Some things should be experienced rather than analyzed, accepted in all ephemeral beauty rather than questioned.

This game was one of those things. The darkness is fading because we are speeding toward the light.

There is nothing more to say.

BOTTOM PHOTO: CHRISTINNE MUSCHI/REUTERS

Numbers: Why the Leafs will make the playoffs

The following email arrived earlier today. Since it contains high-priority optimism, I asked the sender for permission to share. (Note: It was sent prior to Wednesday's games, in which Buffalo beat Atlanta and Florida lost to Ottawa.)

Without further ado, a statistical analysis that projects the Leafs finishing No. 7 in the Eastern Conference.

 

From: Sandeep Kembhavi
To: Vinay Menon
Sent: Wednesday, February 23, 2011 2:15 PM
Subject: Here's some Ovaltine

TIME FOR A SNOOZE…TILL APRIL

This email will put you to sleep, Vinay.

And it won't be due to sheer boredom.  Rather, its contents will unload all your doubts and fears faster than a Dion Phaneuf slapshot, allowing you to slip into a deep, peaceful, and dreamless slumber for the next several weeks. But unlike a high-and-wide Phaneuf blast, this verbal slapshot will find nothing but net, popping off your water bottle and spilling its potent blend of dread and disappointment-flavoured Gatorade onto the solid sheet of ice that has formed over the hopes and dreams you once dared entertain.

Let me get right to the point.  The Leafs are guaranteed to make the playoffs. How do I know this?  Well, based on immutable truth, for starters. Check out the below study to learn why I can so boldly utter the forbidden P-word without washing my mouth out with soap and water.  Oh, and brusquely shove Andrew Bailey out of the way as you do so.

These are the seven teams fighting for playoff spots in the East. If we assume that each continues to collect points at the same clip as they have over the past 10 games, by the end of the season the Leafs will be most comfortably settled in the rarified ranks of the Top 8.

They'll have their feet up on the coffee table with a beer in hand, Cheetos crumbs down the fronts of their battle-weathered jerseys, and 'Everyday Italian with Giada De Laurentiis' on the television in their homely 7th place abode. Catching a glimpse through their window of those 8th place vagrants who have recently taken up residence on a park bench in the ritzy playoff neighbourhood, scrounging around for spare points wherever they can be found, the Leafs will simply draw the blinds and turn up the volume.

It goes without saying that each team will perform exactly as this projection suggests, which guarantees that the Leafs will make it.  But or good measure, let's take a look at the points earned by the 8th place team at the end of the season for each of the past five years since the lockout.

These digits may appear foreign and confusing to fellow long-suffering Leaf fans, who, like me, have lost the ability to count to such dizzying numbers from lack of recent practice. But put down your noxious Gatorade bottle, and pull out your abacus. I don't know what that weird upside-down six is either, but maybe we can learn together.

Let's begin by ignoring that pesky anomalous year, 2008. Uh, let's also strike from the calendar 2006, 2007 and 2009.  Those point totals are giving me a headache. And given the steadfast commitment to mediocrity of most of the Eastern Conference, it seems unlikely that this year's motley crew of 8th place vagrants – whoever they turn out to be – will reach such lofty heights. Given how the likes of Atlanta, Buffalo, and New York are folding like origami swans, it seems they are as afraid of the upside-down six as we are.

So for all our sakes, let's just focus on that ripe and juicy 88. In their remaining 22 games, the Leafs will have to go on a run of 14-7-1 to hit that total (1.31 PPG). Overtime and shootout losses could replace outright defeats to lower the required win total by a game or two, but this gives you an idea of the pace they'll need to maintain to make it to the dance: basically, two wins for every loss.

Can they do it?  The numbers say yes. Will they do it? My gut, corroded as it is from years of overindulgence in that vile Gatorade blend, just made a gurgling sound that I interpret as a yes.

If they do, will they get slaughtered by Philly or Tampa Bay in the first round? Well, my gut has gone quiet for this one.  Let's just focus on one immensely unlikely feat at a time.

Now off to bed until April.

***

Sandeep Kembhavi (aka Stanislav the Sad Bureacrat) recently moved back to Toronto to be on hand for the Maple Leafs' dramatic turnaround.  Women shriek in horror and mothers shield their children's eyes when they see him strutting around in his Leafs' jersey (although the results are the same even without the jersey or the strutting) but he believes that one day, the sacred emblem will once again evoke pride rather than disdain.

Game 60: Two ugly points

There are no beauty requirements for wins.

Sometimes, a win is impossibly attractive. Sometimes a win glides across a crowded bar, bats its eyelashes and dazzles you with a memorable smile that changes your world.

Other times, like tonight, the win is a stranger that jumps into the backseat of your car in the parking lot, all yellow teeth and matted hair and bloodshot retinas.

Stranger: "Hey there. You wanna hangout tonight?"

You (glancing into rearview mirror): "Oh my God! What happened to you?"

But when this Jo Jo the Dog Faced Boy of a game was banished to history, when the wretched visage of nasty turnovers and repulsive broken plays and revolting defensive coverage and un-special teams and a slop oath from both sides had ended, it was the Leafs who were sitting pretty after winning ugly.

The final score was 2-1. A word cloud of this mess looked like this:

If not for the sensational goaltending of James Reimer and Al Montoya – I can't hear that surname without also hearing, "You killed my father. Prepare to die" – this one had very little to suggest two NHL teams were exchanged in late-February battle.

Watching the first and second periods was like watching a game of foosball on the deck of ship that was bobbing in choppy seas. It was like jumping on a Megadrop ride at an amusement park after consuming a glass of curdled milk and an iffy tuna sandwich.

Back and forth. Turnover. A botched chance here, a busted chance there. Giveaway. Back and forth. Blocked shot. Offside. Up and down. Teammates colliding. Here we go. Nope. Turnover. Back and forth. Giveaway. Missed hit.

I’m going to be violently ill.

It was 1-1 late in the third. Our eyes ached. Our stomachs were doing somersaults.

Both teams had exchanged hideous chances. Both teams were now fumbling in the dark, hoping the moonlight and flashing neon motel sign would not shine in through the blinds and let them get a good look at the other.

Pucks were clanging off posts. A cacophony of whistles kept stopping the play for hand passes and endless minor infractions and aborted rushes and scrums that more often than not featured one Zenon Konopka, a grating fellow who looks like he hawks refurbished cordless phones from the back of a stolen truck.

When the cameras cut to a crowd, there were mostly yawns and dazed expressions. The way things were going, or not going, the prospect of a 138-hour shootout involving every player, the trainers and ushers seemed very real.

Then with 4 minutes and 41 seconds left the third, before the game could hit that last branch of the ugly tree from which it fell, a moment of sheer beauty.

Phil Kessel gobbled up the puck in his own zone, activated the turbo-chargers and went end-to-end, one-on-three. He zigged across the blue line, zagged toward the middle and wristed a laser-beam past Montoya for the winner.

And just like that, the crowd finally had reason to stand and cheer. Just like that, the Leafs had closed their eyes real tight and planted a kiss on two ugly points. Just like that, this startled Aye-aye of a game had scampered back into the woods, leaving only a grim memory.

As a laconic Dion Phaneuf noted afterwards: "It wasn't the most exciting game."

No, that it was not. But winning is winning and two points are two points. The game may have sapped our will to live at certain points. But the result, once again, put another coat of improbable lipstick on the standings:

So it's on to Montreal for The Most Important Game Of The Season™ on Thursday night. The magnificent bastards are no doubt pleased this one ended the way it did. But if recent trips to the Bell Centre are a reliable guide, they will need to scrub up their game if they hope to snatch two more points, ugly or otherwise.

MAIN PHOTO: CHRIS YOUNG/CANADIAN PRESS

Game Day: Waiting for new puzzle pieces and four ideas for the power play

Good morning, Frazzled Nation.

The magnificent bastards host the Islanders this evening in The Most Important Game Of The Season™. The head honcho says he is working the phones, hoping to land a defender who can help immediately. (You know, much in the way Tomas Kaberle is helping immediately in Boston.)

And so we wait.

In the interim, let's discuss the power play. Let's think about the power play since, clearly, nobody else is thinking about it.

Stonehenge, the Mayan Prophecy, crop circles, the popularity of Justin Bieber – none of this is as mysterious as when the Leafs have the extra man these days.

In the game against Ottawa, my God, it was like watching five heavily sedated shoppers stumble aimlessly through IKEA on a busy Saturday afternoon. There was no sense of direction, no coordination, no plan of attack.

Just a time-lapsed blur of bumbling confusion.

The Leafs have lost 11 games this season by one-goal margins. In each of those games, a botched power play could have made a critical difference.

Last year, the power play ranked dead last in the league. This year, despite a revamped roster that now includes three 20-goal scorers, the PP is only 2.2 per cent more efficient.

It does not make any sense.

The last time Toronto had an elite power play, which is to say, a dangerous one, the year was 2005. The key to success that season was the first unit backend pairing of Kaberle and Bryan McCabe, who led the team with a combined 96 points on the power play.

Meanwhile, the next two leading scorers played centre: Mats Sundin and Jason Allison. And the guy with the most PP goals, Darcy Tucker, was also the guy willing to take the most abuse while parked in front of the net.

So while we wait for trade news about this mysterious defenceman, I have jotted down four radical ideas for the power play. Feel free to mock my stupidity in the comments:

1. Give The Playmaking Ball To Your Leading Sniper

Never mind scoring. On Saturday, the Leafs could not even gain the zone on the power play. So they repeatedly dumped the puck, where it was promptly retrieved by a Senator and dumped back out.

Without Kaberle, the Leafs are in dire need of someone who can carry the puck through the neutral zone with speed and finesse. Someone who can make an unpredictable and crisp outlet pass or stickhandle with confidence, forcing penalty killers into premature box formation instead of allowing them to stand up at the line.

The quarterback should also be able to move the puck left or right with equal verve. And in the absence of a free man, he should be able to shift toward the middle or move toward the top of the circle and blast away.

In short: Move Mikhail Grabovski to the point for power plays.

2. Create A Line Based On Specific Strengths, Not Perceived Chemistry

Tyler Bozak leads the Leafs in winning faceoffs. Darryl Boyce has the best shooting percentage from the left side, while Colby Armstrong leads from the right.

Now that could be an intriguing second unit. If nothing else, it would not be outworked, as is happening far too often right now.

3. Put The Barbarian At The Gate

This one sounds borderline insane but hear me out: What if Jay Rosehill played on a PP line with Joffrey Lupul and Phil Kessel?

Right now, this team is generating no traffic in front. The opposition goalie tends to see 8 out of every 10 power play shots. The opposition defenders are able to rush and disrupt wingers because they are not otherwise busy moving a hulking body out of the crease.

Rosehill would give the power play something it does not have up front: Size and energy. All he really needs to do is screen, duck incoming shots and plant himself for any trashy rebounds.

His very presence would also give Lupul and Kessel more room to travel from the half-boards to the slot, where they are more likely to score.

4. For Two-Man Advantages, Blitz With Maximum Firepower

In last week's game against Buffalo, the Leafs squandered a great opportunity early in the third when they had a 5-3 power play. Had they scored, they may not have required Joey Crabb's shorthanded heroics minutes later.

So here's the final radical idea: What about combining, even for 30-45 seconds, the top line up front (Clarke MacArthur, Nikolai Kulemin and Mikhail Grabovski) and then loading the backend with Kessel and Lupul?

In short: It could not hurt.

Anyway, with all this talk about territory and power, I leave you with today's game day song, "Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)" by Arcade Fire:

 

MAIN PHOTO: SHUTTERSTOCK IMAGES

 

Guest Post: How to date a Leafs Fan

Five Lessons For Loving Those Who Love The Blue and White

BY M. WILLIAMS

One of the most common criticisms leveled against Leafs fans is that we are content with mediocrity. I smile whenever I hear this. The people espousing this opinion clearly have never tried dating a Leafs fan.

It's a big world out there. And there are a lot of us in it. For those of you without much firsthand experience with the unique and otherworldly pleasures of dating a member of Leafs Nation, I've written this handy guide to winning our hearts.

 

LESSON NO. 1: WE PREFER IF YOU LISTEN

We Leaf fans are what you might call... "high maintenance." No, no, a better word would be... "communicative."

One of the most enduring and definitive relationships of our lives – our love/hate affair with the Blue and White – is built upon an endless stream of dialogue, a constant feedback loop of information, speculation and justification.

So it should really come as no surprise that we're actually sick to death of "talkers." We want someone who will "listen" when we say: "Probably better to make the reservation for 11 p.m. Eastern just in case the game goes into overtime."

Or: "I'd love to visit your grandmother for tea on Saturday! Does she have a laptop with high-speed Internet access? No? Then how's the 3G signal in her area?"

Also, please don't ever make the mistake of revealing your lack of interest in our team by saying things like, "Who's that guy on defence that you hate again? Webster?" Because we will abruptly leave both you and grandma sitting there, teacups in hand.

LESSON NO. 2: BE PROACTIVE AND ATTENTIVE 

Don't bother asking us out if you're going to turn around and make us decide where to go, what time to meet and what to order from the menu.

We'll do it, of course. We're used to making tough decisions like who to trade and who to send down and whether or not it's worthwhile to bury our fist in your jaw after you suggest we "share" a dish and then ask for a doggie bag because you're a cheap bastard who thinks we don't notice you mentally tabulating how many pieces of shrimp we've scooped onto our plate while you blather on about how you gave up practising law to take up bee-keeping and you like hiking into the mountains to make casts of animal footprints that you sell to souvenir shops for a tidy little profit.

Instead of trying to dazzle us with your big words and big dreams, we'd much prefer to know that you'd been paying attention when we said: "I'm not as familiar with this area as you are. But I really like Thai food. Why don't you suggest a place and I'll meet you there for lunch?"

Had you replied: "Sure. ________ has great Thai food. How about 12:30?" and kept all of your bee-keeping and paw prints to yourself, we might not have started laughing when you suddenly sat back in your chair and declared, "It would be crazy for us not to see each other again."

No. I'm afraid we Leafs fans already know the definition of insanity by heart.

LESSON NO. 3: MOCK AT YOUR OWN PERIL 

Too often, Leafs fans are accused of talking simply to hear ourselves speak. More "worthy" topics of conversation are ignored or people say we miss their point entirely.

This is untrue.

Nary a word escapes our lips that has not been very carefully considered. And to cope with the barrage of warring input we receive on a daily basis, we become naturally adept at filtering through "noise" – especially the mindless criticism of our team.

We're discerning, we're very well informed and we're not afraid to disagree. 

So when you say things like, a) "I'm currently self-employed" or, b) "Leafs suck," be prepared for some pointed questions to come zinging your way.

Because we'll instantly know that what you're really saying is:

a) "I live in a smelly basement and probably don't shower every day.”

And,

b) "I'm a moron that knows absolutely nothing about hockey. If you ask me about anything to do with the Leafs' current season, I'm going to respond with a lame joke about "planning a parade" or how long it's been since "the Laffs won the Cup" and then glare at you over the top of my seventh pint of beer after you express surprise that I know how to count past 40."

LESSON NO. 4: DO NOT ASK US OUT ON A GAME NIGHT

Before buying tickets to that new art exhibit or reserving a table at that new hot spot, please check the Leafs schedule. Please.

If you see a game on the date you have in mind, consider us busy.

You may also want to inquire about the status of our favourite players, who we're playing that day and where the Leafs are in the standings before deciding upon an activity.

If we mention the words "lemon squares" at any point during your call... we're staying in. Wait a few days before calling again.

LESSON NO. 5: WE DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR YOUR PROBLEMS RIGHT NOW

For too long we Leaf fans have suffered at the hands of those who lack the strength and courage to face down their demons and battle through adversity.

We are no strangers to heartache and grief. So we really won't feel the least bit bad about rolling our eyes when you complain about things like how your outdoor yoga bootcamp was rained out or how they got your order wrong at Starbucks or how the Canucks lost one lousy game.

Shut up.

We have no tears left to shed over your trivial ass-hattery. We're too busy thinking about what to do with our present goalie situation, where to find a decent power forward that's also a UFA and how we'd like to drive you out into the middle of an Ontario winter with only your non-fat, extra-hot latte and Canucks jersey for protection, and watch your ever-diminishing figure flail helplessly around in our rearview mirror before it finally disappears into a field of snowy white.

Beneath a bright, blue sky.

 

M. Williams (aka Boo Who?) lives in Vancouver, BC, in self-imposed exile from her beloved Leafs Nation. When not huddled in front of an Internet game feed, she enjoys long walks in the rain, surreptitiously checking her phone for scores and various nerdy activities.

 

Have an idea for a guest post? Email: vmenon@thestar.ca

MAIN PHOTO: HARRISON SMITH/TORONTO STAR

Game 59: When nothing happens

I should have listened to you. I should have not watched last night's snoozefest this morning.

On a night when the Canadian Forces were honoured, a night that started with soldiers rappelling down from ceiling beams and Tiger Williams waving to the crowd from a roof hatch of a military vehicle, the Leafs stumbled into the Battle of Ontario and shot blanks.

In total, 47 rounds were pumped toward Craig Anderson, who was playing his first game for Ottawa after a Friday trade with Colorado. He was solid when he had to be. But he could've played without equipment since most of the shots he faced were duds, symbolized perfectly by Nikolai Kulemin's botched attempt in the shootout that "lifted" Ottawa to a 1-0 win.

Since nothing happened, there's nothing to write. Instead, I leave you with short video recaps (to fully appreciate the sound and fury that signified nothing last night, you are encouraged to play these clips at the same time):

First Period

 

Second Period

 

Third Period

 

Overtime

 

Shootout

 

PHOTO: CHRIS YOUNG/CANADIAN PRESS

Appreciation: An open letter to Tomas Kaberle

Dear Tomas:

It's never easy to say goodbye to a family member. And over more than 12 seasons, 878 games and countless memories, that's exactly what you became.

It all started on October 10, 1998.

Two years after getting drafted by Toronto as a shy 18-year-old, there you were in your NHL debut against the Red Wings. There you were in your new home, far away from your old home in the Czech Republic.

A spirit of change floated toward the rafters that night.

It was the last time a season would begin at Maple Leaf Gardens. It was the first time the Leafs were in the Eastern Conference. The word "rebuild" was used more than once that summer.

You played nearly 30 minutes that night. You were on the ice for power plays and even the final minute of Toronto's thrilling 2-1 win. And although it was sketched in the dotted-line silhouette of first impressions, your extraordinary skill level was obvious.

You skated with the grace of a swan. You passed the puck with elegance and precision. None of this ever stopped once it started.

We didn't know much about you back then. Certainly, there was no way to divine the numbers and milestones now attached to your name with bittersweet finality: 520 career points. Eighth on the all-time list for games played in Toronto. The second-highest number of assists and points for a defenceman in team history, behind only a fellow by the name of Borje Salming.

Even this season, even after all this time, the numbers remain impressive: 35 assists ties you for fifth among all NHL defencemen and 16th among all skaters on all teams. Put it this way: You now have one more assist than Sidney Crosby and have factored into more than a quarter of the Leafs’ 146 goals this season.

How the Leafs compensate for these backend numbers is their problem. How you slience criticism that surfaced from certain corners in recent years – "He doesn't shoot enough," "He doesn't really care about winning" – is your problem.

Solving problems is what good families do.

You wanted to stay in Toronto. You asked for a contract extension. But when all was said and done, when it became obvious the family needed to change, you helped the only team you've ever known find a new team for your services.

You did the right thing and for that you should be commended.

In an ideal world, of course, you would have retired in blue and white during a sentimental ceremony. But idealism and sentiment should never cloud the cold decisions that need to be made in the world of professional hockey.

That spirit of change is floating up again toward the rafters.

The Leafs could have lost you for nothing on July 1. The "rebuild" word is in heavy rotation, just like when you were a rookie in that October game against Detroit.

So even though it feels like a day of mourning, the truth is, we should be celebrating. We should be celebrating everything you did for us. And we should celebrate the arrival of yet another first-round pick and yet another promising young prospect.

We may worry about what your departure means to the word we dare not use. We may second-guess this or that. But here's the thing: Sometimes you have to say goodbye to yesterday to welcome tomorrow.

So as trades go, when you factor in both time and need, this one feels beneficial for all involved. In the short-term, Boston benefits. In the long-term, Toronto benefits. And in between, you benefit.

You represented the Leafs in four NHL All-Star games. You represented the Czech Republic in three Winter Olympics. Along the way, you carried yourself with class and dignity, always content to inhabit the shadows away from the spotlight, always the same shy teen when the cameras flashed and the microphones whirred.

So this is it, then. Good luck in Boston. We are excited for you and excited for what we may become in the days and weeks and months ahead.

Farewell and thank you.

TOP PHOTO: COLIN MCCONELL/TORONTO STAR