‘They Don’t Suck’ – a fan’s life

Highs of past, hope for new ones

There was a time when this humble scribe trod the boards of local theatres. Not out of an abundance of talent, mind you; more because a male willing to do community theatre was a rarity and snatched up with nary a query. At the same time, the Prince George Cougars were moving into a new home and for that inaugural year yours truly was the rink announcer. This collision of passions made for interesting and, shall we say, spirited conversations.

For the creative types, it was frustration in being hosted in an old facility that harboured a host of idiosyncrasies and severely hindered the scope of production, if you were lucky enough to use it. In contrast, the Cougars (recent arrivals from Victoria) were being showcased in a facility that cost $21 million to construct in 1994.

One night, after rehearsal in a church sanctuary that was used for performances, the director – it was Crossing Delancey being staged – asked why such sums were expended on an athletic endeavor but not an artistic one. Simple answer: you can’t draw 6,000 people for 36 nights.

This conversion of passion into structure has been at front of mind lately. There’s the World Cup, there’s Wimbledon and, of course, the signing of John Tavares to the Toronto Maple Leafs. It’s a reminder of the very good reason the word fan is derived from fanatic.

Now lots of people are devotees of experiences other than sports: gamers, cosplay, knitters, ballet, stamps, fashion or the Society for Creative Anachronism. But none of those have the ability to unite in the way sports do. Every four years, we rekindle an interest in obscure winter sports. When the Canadian women won soccer bronze at the London Olympics it was shared coast-to-coast. And those old enough will remember the Blue Jays capturing back-to-back World Series titles.

This edition of the World Cup has ably demonstrated the power of sport to unite. Walk into a pub and the shyest will join the celebration, fist pumping and obscure facts pouring out to fill any gaps. As an England devotee, moments of pure terror have mingled with sheer bliss. Against Colombia, the tension as the lineup began for penalties was excruciating but best shared.

It was the same with the signing of Tavares. A legitimate superstar who is still in his prime doesn’t ink a contract in Toronto – it simply doesn’t happen. So when it does, there is a tendency to want to start charting a parade route.

Some teams manage to be ‘lovable losers’ – such as the Chicago Cubs for all those years and, to be honest, the Saskatchewan Roughriders – and some are just losers. That category would host the Maple Leafs and England, rich teams that live, seemingly, on past glories. And the timelines are eerily similar.

The Leafs last drank out of Lord Stanley’s mug on May 2, 1967 and Bobby Moore hoisted the Jules Rimet Trophy on July 30, 1966. For both of these occurrences, your correspondent was alive. When England won my first breath had comes seven months before; the last Leaf win came at the ripe old age of 17 months.

Since then, mostly suffering. Glimmers for sure. Leafs of Sittler and MacDonald, of Gilmour and Clark (damn you, Kerry Fraser) whetted the appetite; the Three Lions were even more tempting – as the teams of Gascoigne and Lineker gave way to the Golden Generation. But heartbreak always.

From a boy growing up and watching the Leafs in black & white to a year living in England when the memories of winning were fresh to a familiar pattern: they look pretty good, think they might do alright, they suck, and what did you expect.

Butt of jokes. Squads cringe-worthy in badness. It builds character for the true fan. And the suffering is part of the payoff.

Take American football: if you’re a recent fan of the Patriots or the Packers, I feel bad for you. There are dark times to come and be prepared. As a Steelers fan, yes there are the six Super Bowls; there is also Bubby Brister, Kordell Stewart and Tommy Maddux to name a few who came between Bradshaw and Ben.

That’s why this World Cup – and waiting till after the quarters and publishing before the semis was deliberate – is so much fun. There was talent there, obviously, for England; there was a likeability and toughness due to the way many of the players fought into the top echelon; and then a path opened up – partially by the players and, yes, by the football gods who decided Germany, Brazil, Spain, Portugal and Argentina should go home early (not to mention Italy and Holland not qualifying).

So Wednesday will be a moment to bask – this time they didn’t suck. And that’s a win. Then there’s 82 games with Tavares in the blue and white of Leafs Nation. Another win.