Game 71: When the Leafs refuse to get into the coffin

If hope was put on life support Monday night, someone forgot to notify the magnificent bastards. Because based on tonight's spirited victory in Carolina, they have no interest in a burial just yet.

I shall be brief because, a) I'm suddenly running a fever and, b) I'm still sitting here mumbling to the cats: "Dion Phaneuf had a three-point game? He scored two power play goals? What?"

With 15 points since the All-Star break, the Captain is finally hitting his old Calgary stride. His physical game returned a few weeks ago. But since then, he's also carrying the puck with renewed confidence. He's jumping into the play and springing forwards with crazy-long passes.

Tonight, he continued to do all of this, while also managing to modify his howitzer of a shot. Instead of trying to break the sound barrier and, in the process, striking mortal fear into players on both sides, Phaneuf has suddenly embraced the principles of shooting accuracy and velocity control.

The weird thing is Carolina outshot Toronto 37-19. For much of the first period, and most of the third, play skittered around in the Leaf end. But if you slow down the game tape, shift by shift, frame by frame, what you'll find is an inverse correlation between territorial play and determination.

Even when Carolina had the puck, the Leafs wanted it more.

You know those wind-up toys that walk across the floor? You know how the first few steps – when the winding mechanism is tightest – produce abnormally fast movement?

That's what the Leafs looked like: Wound up real tight, legs churning at dizzying speed. The movement wasn't always pretty but it was hard to ignore. If you squinted through this game, you would have seen a blur of white jerseys constantly zigging and zagging across every inch of ice.

They blazed into the corners like heat-seeking missiles. They even went to the net: On Phaneuf's first PP goal, both Mikhail Grabovski and Nikolai Kulemin were parked in front of Cam Ward. After Phaneuf's second PP goal, Phil Kessel peeled himself off the blue ice in the crease. On the third goal – which came 12 seconds later – Tyler Bozak drove toward the left post, which allowed him to tip a beautiful pass from Darryl Boyce.

As the hometown announcer noted: "Out of nowhere, out in front!"

And what can you say about James Reimer?

He was spectacular. I don't know if it’s because he shaved recently or because of the recent criticism, but the kid looked to be in a zone. Diving from side to side. Shooting out his flailing limbs. Smothering rebounds. Staying square to the play.

It was as if Reimer was making a simple and stark statement: "I'm fine. Here, watch."

That was a very enjoyable and inspiring three hours. The Leafs, to a man, did not go gently. They are putting up an admirable fight against ridiculous odds. And the next round takes place in less than 24 hours when they venture into Florida.

Unlike the Leafs, I am fading fast. We can make better sense of this rousing victory in the morning. Goodnight.

PHOTO: ELLEN OZIER/REUTERS

Game Day: How to deal with the haters

Be strong, Leafs Nation. Brace yourselves for the onslaught of mocking, jeering, laughing and taunting that crops up at this time of year.

On Monday night, before the 6-2 loss to Tampa was even 10 minutes old, my inbox started beeping like a big rig stuck in reverse.

There were jokes ("Q: Why doesn't Hamilton have an NHL team? A: Because then Toronto would want one!"). There were insults and magic numbers. There were referrals to psychiatrists and local golf courses.

There were even pictures:

I must admit, all of this left me feeling a little defensive.

This morning before work, I went to the corner store to buy some milk. I was wearing my Leafs cap, as per usual. After paying, as I turned to leave, I thought the nice man behind the counter blurted out, "Aki Berg."

"Pardon me?" I asked, feeling my blood pressure rise.

What he actually said, while pointing at my back was, "Girl bird."

It seems one of my daughters had, once again, affixed an Ariel sticker to my coat. This poor guy may not know the difference between a winged creature and a mermaid but he wasn't taking a shot at the Leafs. He was just giving me a friendly heads-up.

The point is: We don't have time for this.

There are still a dozen games to play and a lot hangs in the balance. We don't have time for point-of-sale misunderstandings and we certainly don't have time to be dragged down by those who take perverse pleasure from our late-season pain.

So in advance of tonight's big game against Carolina – Jersey won again last night and are now perched ahead of Toronto in the standings – here is a guide to identifying and dealing with the four main antagonists that multiply like bacteria in March.

THE HATERS

This is the easiest group to identify. The Haters smile on the inside and pump their angry fists after every loss: "Yes!"

They bookmark novelty websites and spend money on anti-Leaf merchandise. They crack lame jokes about parades and 1967. They refer to the Leafs as "the Laffs" and believe Leafs Nation is third-world country populated by deluded fools.

When encountering a Hater, it's best not to make any sudden movements. The Hater is just waiting to pounce. "You know why the Leafs suck?" they will ask, before answering their own question.

If cornered by a Hater, do not panic. Let them finish ranting about why Dion Phaneuf is the anti-Christ or how Phil Kessel drinks kitten blood to break out of slumps. Then when there's a pause, smile and calmly say, "Go Leafs Go" before beating a hasty retreat.

THE FAUX SYMPATHIZERS

This group is equally obsessed with the Leafs. But unlike The Haters, they do not openly despise the blue-and-white. Instead, their contempt manifests in passive-aggressive small talk and feigned empathy.

"I saw the highlights from last night," they will say at work the next morning. "Wow. I really feel sorry for Reimer. It seems like the book is out on him."

They don't feel sorry for Reimer. They love when the kid is beaten high and on the glove side. The Faux Sympathizers want the Leafs to fail because they are addicted to the Schadenfreude.

The best way to deal with these people is to pretend you are not on to them while reinforcing your faith at every turn.

"Yeah, thanks for your support. That was a tough loss, no question.  But these guys will bounce back. This is a really exciting time to be a fan. The future has never looked brighter."

THE CONVERTERS

For whatever reason, certain members of other fan bases yearn to reach out and show us the light. Like missionaries in a faraway land, these people ask things like, "Why don't you follow a real team already?" and "Don't you want to experience the joy and salvation of winning?"

The Converters don't hate the Leafs. They don't even care about the Leafs. What they care about is our loyalty and devotion. They want to harness this spirit, co-opt it for their own team.

They want us to be a part of their conversations.

It's flattering. Nevertheless, it's best to avoid all hockey discussions with The Converters. There is no point, no upside for us or for them because it's never going to happen.

My wife's driving scares the hell out of me. Does that mean I'm going to leave her and shack up with the woman across the street who can parallel park like nobody's business?

When The Converters discuss their Canucks or their Canadiens, change the subject to the weather. When they make playoff predictions involving their Wings or their Flyers, mention the last movie you've seen.

Eventually, they will see the light and our cross-team friendships will survive.

THE EX-BELIEVERS

This is the most difficult group to handle. They once stood shoulder-to-shoulder with us in the trenches, which warrants a measure of respect. But now they have abandoned us, they have "escaped the cult," as they often say without blinking or exhaling.

The Ex-Believers claim they want the Leafs to do well. But they refuse to waste any more time on this godforsaken team. Ask an Ex-Believer a theoretical question about power plays or defensive coverage and you will instead be subjected to an extended rant about how MLSE is run by a shadowy cabal of greedy jackasses who have no interest in the on-ice product.

"Until they get serious about winning," The Ex-Believers say, "they will never get me back. Never! I'm done with them."

But here's the truth: The Ex-Believers are not done with the Leafs. They never really left Leafs Nation. They may not watch all of the games anymore. They may not know a Lebda from a Lupul. But they are still emotionally invested, which is why they can't stop talking about why they left in the first place.

When approached by an Ex-Believer, just nod silently and listen. Let them vent, let them blow off historical steam. But stay positive and make something clear: When they are ready to return, the door will always be open.

Once a Leaf fan, always a Leaf fan...

Okay, on to Carolina. Let's do this thing.

MAIN PHOTO: TARA WALTON/TORONTO STAR

Game 70: When hope goes into cardiac arrest

Hope For The 2010-2011 Season: October 7-March 14

Good evening, forlorn and despondent Leafs Nation.

I would love to tell you the magnificent poor bastards went down swinging tonight. I would love to say this was one for the ages, an epic war in which they fought tooth-and-nail for every inch of ice.

But that would be a lie.

The sad truth is, the Leafs didn't even fight this one follicle-and-pinkie. They arrived late for battle, fired blanks on the few chances they had and then, once again, fell asleep in foxholes as the enemy stormed the net in wave after wave of uncontested attack.

After a season of one thousand cuts, a million jabs from syringes filled with toxic disappointment, this one somehow felt different. It really hurt. It sliced an artery. It warped the space-time continuum and stopped the beating heart of hope, which is now flat-lining on a life support machine, awaiting either a resurrection miracle or last rites.

Can the Leafs bounce back? Mathematically speaking, it's possible. Stranger things have happened. Right? I mean, there are occasional reports of alien abductions. You or I could win the lottery this weekend. Someone, somewhere, must have witnessed a dolphin jumping out of the water in a top hat and leotard, defying gravity and remaining airborne while humming the Brandenburg concertos.

Right?

Alas, no. Even if the sunniest optimist was to glance at the numbers through the rosiest of glasses, he would not be encouraged by what he sees after this brutally lopsided 6-2 kick to the groin. And beyond the numbers, beyond the stats and historical probability, there is another vexing concern that crystallized on this solemn evening: The race may continue but the Leafs are getting winded just as the teams around them are catching a second breath.

It all fell apart in high-definition tonight: James Reimer, the only reason these games are still meaningful, was not himself. He fought the puck and, more often than not, the puck won.

The on-again, off-again offense was mostly locked in the "off" position. And since I don't have any ulcer medicine in the house, let's not talk about defensive coverage, the power play or the expression on Ron Wilson's face near the end that said it all.

I think maybe I'll retire The Most Important Game Of The Season™ business. Instead, let's just call Wednesday's game against Carolina A Potentially Intriguing Twelfth Last Game Of The Season For This Tired Bunch Of Hope Killers.

Let's defer to reality and recalibrate expectations accordingly.

Until it's official, of course, I shall sit dutifully by the hospital bedside, stroking the hand of hope and trying not to think about all the goddamn points lost in November and December. It's agonizing to retrace steps and cherrypick points here or there, points they all but gave away through incompetence and mediocrity.

But I don't feel like second-guessing anyone or anything because, really, what's the point? These guys have given it all they have this calendar year. They just have nothing left to give. Reinforcements are needed; the cavalry is not yet upon us.

To be a Leaf fan is to be at the eternal mercy of twin realities: 1. Disappointment is inevitable. 2. Faith will carry us forward.

Hope for another season may have died this evening. But it will return. It always does.

PHOTO: DARREN CALABRESE/CANADIAN PRESS

Game Day: One weird dream and four Leaf questions

Are you ready for The Most Important Game Of The Season™?

I know, right? This is getting exhausting. Thrilling but bloody exhausting.

I think the mix of blinding hope, scoreboard fretting, statistical roundhouse kicks to the gut and then more blinding hope has finally stormed my subconscious.

I had the weirdest dream last night.

My wife and I ventured into Real Sports for dinner. Our server was wearing a helmet and full-cage, which couldn't conceal his gaunt cheekbones and dead eyes. After he took our drink order, I leaned toward my wife and whispered, "I think that's Ryan Miller."

"Who?"

Before I could explain, he returned with my martini, which was served inside a silver goblet. Instead of olives, as I had requested, it was garnished with three shrunken heads – Grabovski, Kulemin and MacArthur!

"I'm going to be sick!" I said, running toward the exit

"Is there a problem, sir?" asked Miller, peeling off his helmet and face to reveal John Tortorella.

But when I stumbled through the front door to York Street, I was suddenly naked and on the ice at the ACC. Hoofheartz and TG77 were standing next to a blue Zamboni that was tricked-out with massive speakers.

They started blasting "Kung Fu Fighting." I stood at centre ice, sobbing and covering my genitals, as the crowd laughed and pelted me with waffles.

When I tried to run away, Don Cherry lassoed me with a tartan rope.

"Let me go!" I screamed.

"Shut your mouth or MacLean will work you over with his nunchucks!" hissed Grapes.

Then suddenly I was imprisoned inside a giant green hat, where I was forced to watch a video loop of Carlton the Bear making out with my wife inside the kitchen of Real Sports as Phil Kessel fried an omelette in the background.

Anyhow.

The Leafs battle Tampa tonight in a – wait for it – must-win game. Good luck underwear? Check. Lemon squares? Check. Let's hope I only need the first.

Despite beating Buffalo on Saturday with a heroic third period, the magnificent bastards lost ground over the next 24 hours. Thanks to weekend wins by the Rangers and Sabres, the gap is back to six points. (Cue the sneering probability police.)

But instead of just focusing on tonight's game, here are four questions for the home stretch:

1. Should Colton Orr return to the lineup?

The enforcer has been out since January 20, when he banged his head on the ice during a scrap with Anaheim's George Parros. It was the second time this season Orr has suffered head trauma, the first caused by the right fist of Pittsburgh's Deryk Engelland during a fight in October.

Orr could be cleared to return as early as this week. But should he play and risk another injury that could jeopardize his career? Do the Leafs need an enforcer at this stage of the season, when fighting is not as much of a factor? Or should they continue to go with the line-up that's surged since the All-Star break?

2. Is it time for the Leafs to call-up a defenceman?

How much longer can the Leafs dress only six defenders? Especially when two of those defenders – Mike Komisarek and Brett Lebda – are playing less than 10 minutes a night, as each did against Buffalo?

Hang on. Breaking news means i t looks like the answer to this question is Matt Lashoff.

3. What can be done about Jonas Gustavsson?

As long as the team is still blinding us with hope, James Reimer can and should start each and every game. He can handle the mental pressure and the physical demands. He wants this.

But carrying three goalies is fraught with logistical concerns, including practice time, reduced roster room and even the impact on team chemistry. (Nick Kypreos once observed that having three goalies in the room and during travel was like having an ex-girlfriend hanging around at all hours.)

How can the Leafs make sure Gustavsson still feels like he belongs in their world when he's barely orbiting it right now? What long-term impact will this season have on his development and feelings toward the team?

4. How can the sputtering power play be fixed?

I know we've hammered this question all season long – actually longer. But the more we hammer, the more crooked it gets.

There's no question the quote-unquote man advantage has cost this team points. Why can't it get on track, or at the very least, stay on track? With four 20-goal scorers in the line-up, there is no logical reason for the PP to be ranked 24.

Is putting Tim Brent on the point really the only solution? Really?

And with that, I shall resume work on my Steven Stamkos voodoo doll. If you see Carlton the Bear, please tell him to stay the hell away from my wife.

 

WARNING: Some language in this video is NSFW.

Game 69: What just happened?

If we've learned one thing about the Toronto Maple Leafs this season it is this: We've learned nothing. Zilch. Nil. Zero. Absolutely nothing. After 69 games, honestly, I don't know jacksquat about what I'm watching any more.

Is it ice hockey? Sheep herding? Paintball?

I don't know. I'm so dizzy.

Just when you think this team has safely turned a corner, they face-plant into a brick wall. Just when you think they are as doomed as Nicolas Cage in Leaving Las Vegas, they give us reason to stop pounding back lemon drop martinis.

If you had a gambling problem and your obsession was betting on Leaf games, you would be broke by now. You would be alone, jobless, homeless, dazed and confused, begging for spare change on a downtown street corner with a cardboard sign that reads: "WHAT JUST HAPPENED?"

When tonight's comeback victory over Buffalo concluded, I tumbled off the couch as if an unseen force had walloped the back of my head with a beanbag chair. This unpredictable, back-and-forth, emotionally exhausting game left me gasping for breath, clutching my side as I sprawled supine on the hardwood floors, grinning and mumbling that three-word question up into the halogen spotlights.

What just happened?

Inside my head, trying to piece together the disorienting, heart-pounding spectacle, I felt like an eyewitness talking to the cops:

Ah, well officers, I’m pretty sure I saw the Sabres score first, maybe even on their first shot. I remember feeling numb. Then I think the Leafs tied it up. Hang on. I’m pretty sure the Leafs jumped ahead 2-1. Yes, I remember feeling... hopeful.

But then Buffalo scored two goals and had a 3-2 lead going into the third.

And what happened after that second wave of numbness? Oh, you know, more hope.

Officers, as far as I can tell, the magnificent bastards refused to die. They refused to let the Sabres waltz into their barn and bury them next to the chicken feed. They decided to rise up from the ashes of sure death to live another day inside the wild and unpredictable parallel universe known as Leafs Nation.

So despite getting outshot 32-19 after two periods, the Leafs regrouped, refocused and stormed the ice for the third with sawed-off shotguns, killer instincts and James Reimer waiting to drive the getaway car.

Mikhail Grabovski opened fire and tied the game at 4:03, when he one-timed a gorgeous feed from Carl Gunnarsson. Exactly two minutes and 33 seconds later, Phil Kessel controlled a cross-ice outlet pass from Luke Schenn, streaked down the right side, stutter-stepped around Jordan Leopold and beat Ryan Miller with one of his patented laser beams.

That was that: A 4-3 final score. The team's first Saturday night win since New Year's Day. And most important, another scramble forward in the standings, where Toronto now sits in 10th spot, four points behind Buffalo.

You know, whatever happens Monday against Tampa and beyond – only a fool would hazard a guess at this point – I'm just grateful for the meaningful nature of what's unfolding in our midst this late in the season.

We're heading into March break and I haven't already packed up my blue-and-white paraphernalia? What? We're a couple of hours away from daylight savings time and I'm not fighting the urge to set my clocks forward to training camp in September?

Has this season shortened our lives by a few years? Probably. Am I tempted to smoke eucalyptus leaves after every game in a desperate attempt to soothe my jangled nerves? Definitely.

But here's the thing: It's March 13 and we're still asking questions. We are still high-fiving each other and looking around with dazed but overjoyed expressions. We are still hopeful.

The Leafs recovered from a flat start tonight and pumped more life into their tires. So buckle-up and clear your schedule. What just happened? The crazy ride continues, that's what happened.

We are rumbling down an unmarked road with no maps and no sense of where we're going but, somehow, it feels right.

MAIN PHOTO: CHRIS YOUNG/CANADIAN PRESS

Game Day: Get busy living or get busy dying

When asked about tonight's showdown with Buffalo, coach Ron Wilson said: "We haven't talked about it being life and death."

Excuse me?

Someone, please, talk about it. Hurry. At the very least, this game is life and a coma. It's life and critical injuries. Life and blunt force trauma to the hopes and dreams of Leafs Nation.

There are 14 games remaining in the season. The Leafs trail the Sabres and Rangers by six points. Mr. Wilson, sir, it is time to embrace the clichés of your chosen profession:

Do or die. Between a rock and a hard place. Now or never. There is no tomorrow. Behind the eight ball. Gut-check time. Backs against the wall. Everybody better give 110 per cent.

The Leafs did not practice yesterday, a wise decision given the creeping fatigue we've witnessed over the past three games. Wilson said he wanted his players to "think" about things.

Let's hope this thinking included: Why can't we win on Saturdays?

Heading into The Most Important Game Of The Season™, Toronto has dropped seven straight Saturday night games. Even in the mid-80s, when I cheered for Frycer and Ihnacak while wearing a pastel Miami Vice T-shirt and writing high school love letters to wooo girls, I can't recall this much weekend misery.

If this continues, Hockey Night in Canada should consider playing a different Elton John song during the intro for Leaf games. Forget about "Saturday Night's All Right (For Fighting)" and maybe give us a few bars from "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road," "I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues," "Sad Songs (Say So Much)," "Candle In The Wind," or "Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me."

Speaking of which, I was up most of the night again with a sick child. Incidentally, in the predawn hours, a 4-year-old with the stomach flu has symptoms eerily identical to a child who is possessed by Satan.

But in between applying cold towels to a feverish forehead and changing bed sheets and running for my life, there was plenty of time to think about this stretch of Saturday night futility, which now includes losses to Calgary (January 15), Washington (January 22), Buffalo (February 5), Montreal (February 12), Ottawa (February 19), Pittsburgh (February 26) and Chicago (March 5).

Despite mostly even territorial play during these seven games – cumulative shot totals were 233 for opponents, 232 for the Leafs – the magnificent bastards were outscored 27-12.

These seven games included two shutouts against and two shootout losses. The Leafs also managed to score only one first period goal in these seven games and the struggling power play was downright anemic, operating at 3 for 31, or 9.7 per cent.

You know what else is weird? Saturday nights are the worst day of the week for individual performances this season.

The team's Top 4 scorers are generating their lowest points-per-game numbers on Saturdays: Mikhail Grabovski (.44), Clarke MacArthur (.56), Phil Kessel (.50) and Nikolai Kulemin (.44).

The defencemen, meanwhile, have a worse plus/minus on Saturdays than any other day of the week: Dion Phaneuf (-3), Luke Schenn (-2), Carl Gunnarsson (-4), Brett Lebda (-4) and Keith Aulie (-4). (The only exception to this rule is Mike Komisarek. His worst plus-minus, -5, falls on Mondays.)

Here's another statistical oddity I discovered at 3 a.m.

Saturday nights are the only day of the week in which James Reimer has a save percentage under .900 (.889). It's also his worst day of the week with respect to goals against average (3.56).

What does all of this mean? I have no idea. But here are 10 things for the Leafs to think about before tonight:

1. We should really score the first goal.

2. Here's a crazy idea: Why don't we score the first goal in the first period?

3. We should cover our men in the defensive zone and not just look at them with vague indifference, like they're handing out religious pamphlets at the airport.

4. Just to mix things up, why don't we try using a breakout play that doesn't make our fans break out the vodka?

5. We should get some traffic in front of Ryan Miller.

6. Why don't we bang in a rebound or use something other than Grabovski's face to deflect a shot tonight?

7. Before clearing the puck up the middle, let's ask ourselves a simple question: "Would Stevie Wonder be comfortable making this play?"

8. On the power play, let's pretend our feet are nestled comfortably inside skates and not entombed inside blocks of cement. In short: Let's move our feet!

9. We should spread out a little to make it, a) more difficult for Buffalo defenders and, b) to avoid bumping into each other like Keystone Kops.

10. Instead of waiting until it's too late, let's start the game with desperation and intensity.

Ron Wilson may not believe this is a life or death situation. But to quote Tim Robbins from The Shawshank Redemption: "I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy living or get busy dying."

Game 68: Too sad to recap so let's go straight to the comments

TARA WALTON/TORONTO STAR

Commenting Thread: Featuring Kris Versteeg's mouthguard

 

 

 

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Game 67: How much more can we take?

Make a break for it, Leafs Nation. Don't ask questions.

Save yourselves! Escape the madness while you still can! Run!

Over the river and through the woods – doesn't matter if it's grandmother’s house! Just knock on the door, make sure the occupant does not own a TV or radio and then cower under the floorboards for the next month.

When you come out, blinking in the sunshine and brushing off cobwebs, the Leafs will either be getting ready for the, you know, or they will, yeah, you also know.

Either way, you will be spared the gut-wrenching, hair-pulling, leg-twitching, retina-burning and heart-squishing madness that now seems all but inevitable if tonight's 4-3 overtime loss is a reliable guide.

The good news is the Leafs somehow gained a point in the standings. I say "somehow" because the magnificent poor bastards worked diligently to not get the point. Seriously, it was like the point was radioactive.

Stay away from the point. That point has three heads.

Once again, it was The Most Important Game Of The Season™. But instead of rising to the occasion, instead of soothing jangled nerves after Saturday's unsettling loss, the Leafs took a blowtorch to our anxiety.

They were outshot 40-27 by the 26-32-10 Islanders. They fell behind three times. Toronto's top scorers – so energetic and effective in recent weeks – looked like groggy Kermode bears about to drop after getting nailed with tranquilizer darts during a National Geographic special.

The defensive coverage, holy hell, it was like watching a group of blind people square dance for the first time inside a ballroom tricked-out with funhouse mirrors and quicksand.

Grab him! No, behind you! That’s not his body! Over there! Look out! Do-si-do!

Before the game was two minutes old, there was a problem with the glass, causing a delay. If I had a time machine, I would now go back to that moment and read our beloved Leafs the riot act: "Hey! You’re about to get outhustled over the next 2.5 hours! You're about to let another critical point slip through your dull skates! Focus!"

What an aggravating night full of aggravating questions.

How on earth was that a penalty shot? Are the Leafs even trying on the power play? Or are they now using those two-minute intervals to hypnotize each other so they have a half-decent party trick for barbeques this spring?

What is with the lighting inside Nassau Coliseum? It's so dim and drab you can't see the 392 people in attendance. Why am I sitting here at 2 a.m. and humming that stupid "Live is Life" song they play when the Islanders score?

Live is Life – what does that even mean?

What is going on with the hair belonging to one Jack Capuano? Does New York's coach drive to Supercuts, amble toward the entrance and then frantically rub the top of his skull on the brickwork outside until clumps are shorn off and the rest is standing on end? Is he electrocuted just before the puck drops?

You know, I think the most aggravating part of this game – down, up, down, up, down, up and then down for good – was that it felt like a microcosm of this dizzying season.

This raises another question: How much more can we take?

I mean, give the Leafs partial credit for battling back three times. But where was the intensity from the get-go? Why were they not ready to start this game? Why were they not ready to finish this game after getting several lucky breaks and do-overs?

The Islanders hit the post FIVE TIMES! My God, between the 80s Austrian pop, the time travel fantasies, the apocalyptic doom and the clanging that sounded like gunfire – bang! bang! bang! bang! bang! – I half-expected Arnold Schwarzenegger to kick down my living room door and ask if I was hiding Sarah Connor under my Kordic jersey.

Five goal posts? Four power plays? A regulation loss for both Buffalo and Jersey? The hockey gods were doing everything they possibly could to help the Leafs tonight and yet...

...I'm sorry for ranting. I am.

I know the lovable kooks picked up a point and that is good. But they have also donated a number of single points in overtime and shootouts recently – five since the start of last month – and that is not good when you scrutinize the standings and crunch the numbers.

So while my brain wants to be positive, my heart keeps swearing like Lindsay Lohan after a bender in Malibu. The good news is we live for another day. The bad news is if living conditions do not improve significantly our days are numbered.

Time for another reset, I guess. Time to forget about this one and get ready for Thursday, for another tangle with the struggling Flyers, Kris Versteeg and his ornamental mouth guard.

Give me a few hours. Or make a break for it while you can. I won't say a word.

Here's the thing: It's hard not to be excited about the direction in which this young team is headed. But on nights like this, the urge to run away and wait it out inside a safe-house is as powerful and inexplicable as a catchy retro song that makes absolutely no sense.

 

 

MAIN PHOTO: KATHY KMONICEK/ASSOCIATED PRESS

Playoff Race: Ron Wilson's March calendar

 

*Click to enlarge (calendar broken into three sections)