Sports And The City

Already in his short Toronto Maple Leafs career, Phil Kessel has accomplished something Mats Sundin never did: Being named NHL player of the month. Learning that Kessel was the first Maple Leaf to take home the prize since Felix Potvin way back in 1993 surprised me; I just assumed Sundin did it, that he was the last Leaf to win the award. All those months, all those years, all those points, Sundin leaving Toronto its leading scorer in team history, I figured he won it, at least once, and I simply forgot about it.

At the same time, I wasn’t surprised that Sundin never won the honours. Mats was remarkably consistent, an elite talent — undoubtedly — in the dead puck era, but never bald head and Swedish shoulders above the rest of the competition. Not even for a month. The haters will likely use that as ammunition against Sundin. I maintain, as I always have: Fuck the haters.

Wednesday night in New Jersey, Phil Kessel continued his torrid start to the season, picking up another two assists, and running his total to 20 points on the season. In 12 games. (After Thursday night, Kessel’s got 21 points in 13 games.) Absurd. Thank you, Kessel, indeed. So, I was curious: Had Sundin ever reached the 20-point mark in 12 games as a Toronto Maple Leaf? I know, it doesn’t mean much, 20 points in what’s a long, grinding season, but it’s a nice, round number, so I figured, why not? To Hockey Reference, yo.

Below are their respective Maple Leafs seasons, and how many games it took Sundin, and has taken Kessel, to reach 20 points on the year, and the date on which each reached the mark.

Mats Sundin:

1995: 20 points — 20 games — February 25, 1995 (Lockout shortened season.)

95/96: 20 points — 14 games — November 16, 1995 (Injured; missed late October games.)

96/97: 20 points — 15 games — November 9, 1996

97/98: 20 points — 27 games — December 6, 1997 (No points in first seven games.)

98/99: 20 points — 16 games — November 12, 1998

99/00: 20 points — 17 games — November 29, 1999 (Injured; missed games in October.)

00/01: 20 points — 25 games — November 30, 2000

01/02: 20 points — 21 games — November 19, 2001

02/03: 20 points — 17 games — November 15, 2002

03/04: 20 points — 22 games — November 24, 2003 (No points in first five games.)

04/05: No games — No points — Only sadness.

05/06: 20 points — 24 games — December 26, 2005 (Injured all of October.)

06/07: 20 points — 18 games — November 25, 2006 (Injured in November. When it mattered.)

07/08: 20 points — 14 games — November 2, 2007

Phil Kessel:

09/10: 20 points — 21 games — December 14, 2009 (Missed training camp and all of October.)

10/11: 20 points — 33 games — December 20, 2010 (Blame November.)

11/12: 20 points — 12 games –November 2, 2011

So, there you have it: Mats Sundin, in all his years literally and figuratively leading the Maple Leafs, never had a start quite as incredible as Kessel’s this season. The game’s certainly changed since Sundin’s time, but I can’t — won’t! — take anything away from Kessel. His first twelve games have been must-see TV. I read it on Twitter, and although I can’t remember who was behind the brilliance, I know it was retweeted by the King of Reweets himself, my friend and yours, @mlse: “If there’s a Phil, there’s a way.” That’s about the best way to describe this early season, isn’t it?

As for Sundin, I think it’s fitting that his first full season with the Leafs began much like his last, 20 points in his first 14 games. Even though, as a team, Sundin’s final season with Toronto was an incredible disappointment, Mats wasn’t. He was like a fine Swedish wine, seeming to only get better with age.

Also, for shits and giggles, I took a look at Doug Gilmour’s stats from his ridiculous 1992/1993 season, and it took him all of 10 games to score his 20th point on the season. Killer.

It all comes back to Phil Kessel, though. He’s doing things Mats Sundin wasn’t able to. And, well, that kind of blows my mind. And, much like Sundin, Kessel’s doing it without much of a supporting cast (with all due respect to sniper Joffrey Lupul). It’s also worth remembering that Sundin, when he became a Maple Leaf and in his first few years with the team, was surrounded by veterans: Gilmour, Dave Andreychuk, Mike Gartner, Mike Ridley, and Jamie Macoun, to name a few, who helped mentor him, and who eased his transition to our hockey-mad, Stanley Cup-starving town.

There are more parallels: Sundin was 23-years-old when he became a Leaf, Kessel only 22. Sundin played with the guys I mentioned above, and even Larry Murphy (Boo!), Kirk Muller, and the legend he was traded for, Wendel Clark. Kessel hasn’t been afforded that same luxury, if you can call it that. Of the Toronto team that Kessel suited up with on November 3, 2009, his first game in the blue and white, only Mikhail Grabovski, Nikolai Kulemin, Mike Komisarek, Colton Orr, Jonas Gustavsson, and Luke Schenn remain Leafs today.

The Leafs are Kessel’s team, and he’s inherited the responsibility a lot sooner than Sundin did, at a much younger age, and without veterans the likes of which Sundin had as teammates, whom Sundin certainly relied upon. It makes what Kessel has done — he’s the NHL’s leading scorer, and the Leafs are the NHL’s best team — not only this year, but in his first two seasons as a Maple Leaf, too, that much more impressive.

It’s early still, Kessel might never be as productive as Sundin was, Tyler Seguin might end up turning into one hell of a hockey player, and truthfully I hope he does, but it’s pretty obvious: Kessel was worth the picks.

Image courtesy artobserved.com, via this isn’t happiness.

Life — growing up, the human experience — is about making mistakes. They’re inevitable. What’s important on this journey is to learn from your mistakes. Not repeat them. So I’m a bit disappointed in myself because, with the Toronto Maple Leafs sitting pretty at 4-0-1, just as they were last October after five games, here we are, again: I’m ecstatic. I’m thinking this team’s different, this team’s the one that will end the postseason drought. I learned nothing from last year, when the Leafs got my hopes up, only to murder those very hopes a month later, in November, when the games mattered. Nothing at all. Actually, I’m even more excited this time around, after five games. Should the Leafs win four out of their next five, I think it’ll be pretty obvious to everyone else, as it will be to me, that the Maple Leafs are going to win the Stanley Cup.

How could you not be excited after watching The Phil Kessel Show these past two weeks? Sure, people, including Ron Wilson, are talking about Kessel being a streaky scorer and really being in the zone right now, and that might well be the case, but Kessel looks like a different player on the ice. While his supporters, and I’m surely one of them, have continued to trumpet the fact that he is one of the NHL’s most dangerous offensive players, already a three-time 30-goal scorer at only 24-years-old, it’s the complete nature of Kessel’s game that has all of us thinking things we probably shouldn’t be. You know, hardware: a Maurice Richard trophy, maybe an Art Ross, hell, maybe even a Selke. Kessel looks dangerous out there, on every shift. You didn’t have to be watching to know when Kessel had the puck over the Leafs’ first five home games; you could hear it. He had the crowd buzzing. It was … fun. And if Kessel lights up Boston …

I know, I know, this Leafs team isn’t perfect. Far from it. It almost makes them easier to love. Nobody likes a perfectionist. But the flaws are evident, five games in. It’s a serious problem that Kessel and linemate Joffrey Lupul are scoring all the goals. Someone, anyone, please find a pineapple for Mikhail Grabovski to murder; he’s got to get going. The defence has been poor. Not that that’s surprising, really. But my worst fear seems to have been realized: Luke Schenn has been infected by the disease known as Mike Komisarek. Schenn looked awful on Winnipeg’s second goal Wednesday night, just brutal.

But one man’s struggles are another man’s opportunity, and after the way Jake Gardiner played last night, it’s impossible to keep him out of the lineup. And good on the kid. For selfish reasons, of course. Gardiner’s making it easier to let go of Tomas Kaberle.

It’s so much easier to support this team when the trades Burke has pulled off — Kessel, Gardiner, Lupul, Dion Phaneuf — seem to be working, and working out quite well, isn’t it? Speaking of trades, I wouldn’t object to the acquisition of Rene Bourque, but I’m mostly surprised that Calgary would even consider trading again with Toronto. The Flames are one fucked up organization.

A few words on Lupul: helluva finish on his first goal of two last night. What I love most about his success is that I know how much it pisses off, and will continue to piss off, Edmonton Oilers bloggers and fans. I hope he scores 35. In the battle of rebuilders, screw the Oilers, I say.

A favor: If you see anyone out there wearing a Carl Gunnarsson jersey, shake his or her hand. I will do the same.

Another reason to be a lot more excited about this season’s edition of the Leafs, compared to last: James Reimer. The fate of this 4-0-1 team doesn’t rest on J.S. Giguere’s groin, and the wounded psyche of Jonas Gustavsson. Advantage, huge advantage, this year’s squad. In all seriousness, I’m looking forward to seeing how Gustavsson does tonight. The Bruins aren’t scoring goals; they’ve got 11 in six games, Kessel’s scored seven in five. If this Leafs team wants to be taken seriously, now’s the time to capitalize on a struggling Boston squad, and to make sure that not one bloody soul at T.D. Garden is chanting “Thank you Kessel!” Well, except for Leafs fans. They should definitely be chanting “Thank you Kessel!” at T.D. Garden.

Also tonight: Nazem Kadri makes his debut. More skill. And there’s nothing wrong with more skill. Can’t wait.

The Leafs have yet to lose in regulation, their power play stinks, their penalty killing stinks even more (77.3%, ugh), they have zero secondary scoring, and, as cliched as I know it reads, have yet to play a full 60 minutes. Yet I’m thinking 6-0-1, what with Boston and Montreal — both struggling, both beatable — on the schedule before a date with the Flyers.

Should the Leafs take 13 points out of their first available 14, sorry, but I have to think playoffs. It’d be a crime not to. Let’s be honest: I’m thinking playoffs, hockey in spring in Toronto, already. It helps takes my mind off the coming long and depressing winter.

Image courtesy Crystal.  Thanks, Crystal. It’s my favourite.

Post-lockout, when 51-year-old Ed Belfour was inexplicably signed to play goal for the Toronto Maple Leafs, I wished for him to just, you know, go away. After what we all knew to be true was confirmed: that Belfour could no longer play the position, that the Eagle was grounded. I wished upon Eddie — God love him, a great goalie who absolutely owned Ottawa in the playoffs — a bender, the likes of which he’d never seen. The bender I knew he had it in him to go on. It broke my heart to watch a once-proud goalie, who had 10 bloody shutouts in 2003/2004 (for the Leafs!), go out the way Belfour was. It was obvious: he was done.

Mikael Tellqvist and J.S. Aubin were never good enough to truly care about. I do remember when the Leafs faced Tellqvist, though, back on December 4, 2008 in Phoenix. He was awful, and played only 40 minutes after allowing three goals on nine shots. Vesa Toskala, Toronto’s goalie, was worse, allowing six goals on 26 shots. Toronto lost, the final 6-3 Coyotes. With Andrew Raycroft backing up Toskala, effectively leaving Toronto without a back-up goalie, the Leafs had no choice but to go down with the leaky ship.

(In his dreams, Toskala owns a boat: The Vesina.)

We’ve watched some awful goaltending in Toronto over the past few years. I mean really fucking awful. And it’s led to some serious personal bitterness. When Toronto faced Raycroft in Colorado in late January 2009, I wanted nothing more than for the Leafs to light him up. Payback. It was a game that I’d have circled on my Leafs calendar, if I had one of those Leafs calendars, you know, from Shoppers Drug Mart, the ones we all had as kids. Actually, physically circled, in red, on the calendar, along with, I don’t know, something subtle like “DEATH TO RAYCROFT.” The Leafs scored on Raycroft that cold, awesome January night, and scored on him often. It was fantastic. Seven Toronto goals on 30 shots. It was fun.

That’s what being a Leafs fan of late had been reduced to: revenge. I won’t lie: I wanted some very bad things to happen to Vesa Toskala. I’m still a little bit bitter over the fact he bolted for some Finnish beer league, where I have no doubt he’s one of the shittier goalies, before the Leafs, and Phil Kessel, got to him.

Tonight, in a few hours, J.S. Giguere makes his not so triumphant return to Toronto. Looking back at his 2010/2011 numbers — 11 wins, 11 losses, and a .900 save percentage — Giguere was better than I thought. Which is fucking sad, because those numbers aren’t very good. They’re average brutal. And that’s how I’d describe Giguere’s time in Toronto: so very average brutal, even though it seemed worse. But I don’t care. About Giguere, I mean. I could care less whether the Leafs light him up. I’d like for them to beat Giguere, and Colorado, obviously, so we can all enjoy another “Four-and-Oh!!!1″ parade, but in the grand scheme of things, Giguere doesn’t matter. (Although I’m still a little pissed off with Ron Wilson and the fact he started Giguere on March 17 in Florida, last season, against the Panthers, a 4-0 shutout loss. Giguere had no business playing that game, it being Reim Time and all, the Leafs still on life support in their valiant and very honorable quest for eighth place in the East. But, whatever.)

Finally, I feel indifference towards a former Leafs goalie, and this pleases me. Because I could hate Giguere. I could want the Leafs to absolutely destroy him, and his groin, the one that’s keeping his career alive, albeit barely, because it made absolutely zero bloody sense for Giguere to not have surgery, and play most of last season injured. But to blame Giguere for that would mean I’d have to blame the Leafs, the management, the fucking franchise, because certainly part of the blame for that bonehead decision — to keep playing the ancient and injured Giguere — falls on the Leafs’ shoulders. And, well, I think all of us supporters of the Leafs are past blaming the team. Really, what’s the point? The shit list’s way too long. It’s much easier to breed contempt for players who don’t perform, instead of the geniuses bringing them in in the first place.

The point is: I no longer need to concern myself with the long list of goalies who have, over the years, absolutely screwed Toronto. Because the Maple Leafs actually — finally! — have a goddamn goalie. If Giguere shuts the Maple Leafs out tonight, which he very well might, he isn’t J.S. Giguere the former terrible Leafs goalie who of course shut them out. No, instead, he’s just another terrible goalie who shut out the Maple Leafs. Period.

I wasn’t so sure this day would come. I probably didn’t think it would be today, and I definitely didn’t think the goalie to lead me away from the bitterness would be James Reimer. But today’s the day, and Reimer’s the goalie, and, for a little while at least, everything is perfect. No, literally. The Leafs haven’t lost yet.

UPDATE:

Leafs lose, Avs win, I hate Giguere.

Image via this isn’t happiness.

Wade Belak never seemed to take himself too seriously. That’s why I liked him. That’s why, like everyone else, I was shocked to hear of his death. He’s gone way too soon. But his death, his apparent suicide, serves as just another reminder that no matter what you see on the surface, everybody’s got demons, demons that they’re fighting, every single day.

There are so many questions, and, frustratingly, zero answers. The pictures of Belak and his family, his wife and kids, are just gutting. What drove Belak to kill himself, and leave them behind? Why wasn’t Belak’s death treated with the same sensitivity as Rick Rypien’s? Was it because Rypien’s fight with depression was public knowledge? Was Belak tortured because he was an NHL enforcer? Was he depressed? Did he reach out for help? Did he have a history of concussions? If he was lost, “retired” at 35, knowing only a life in and around hockey, it didn’t come across. By all accounts, he was upbeat, content, the same old Wade Belak, and keeping busy.

It doesn’t make sense. Suicide never does, I guess. But it’s impossible not to make the connection, to tie Belak’s death to Derek Boogard’s, and Rypien’s. It’s impossible, when three hockey players, all enforcers, all so damn young, are found dead over the summer, to think that fighting still has a place in professional hockey. I’m done. I’m out. I don’t want to see it anymore. It isn’t worth it. Nobody can tell me that it is.

Wade Belak had this self-deprecating way of making himself seem like a regular guy. Like any other guy. He was like me, like you, like all of us, except that he played ice hockey, and fought, for a living. I’ll remember Belak as a Toronto Maple Leaf, for his wit, his interviews that were always so refreshing, especially compared to those of his teammates. I’ll remember Belak for the way he stood up for his teammates, especially for Tomas Kaberle, and for the goal he scored on December 4, 2007, against Nashville, the one he waited almost four years to get, the one that had the entire Air Canada Centre chanting his name. It was the last goal he ever scored in the NHL.

Wade Belak was only 35-years-old. Boogard and Rypien, even younger. I can’t help but think about how young they were, over and over and over again. There’s something about these three men dying that’s left me cold, that’s taken away from the invincibility of a professional athlete, the guy who’s “living the dream,” even the enforcer. Even though I know, to begin with, that the invincible pro athlete doesn’t exist, that he’s a construct, a product of television, and the Internet, and a vicious news cycle. These guys, they’re just like us. Sometimes they’re not happy. Sometimes they hate their job. Sometimes they drink to ease the pain. Sometimes they’re so fucking afraid of the future, they’d rather not even face it. The deaths of Belak, Boogard, and Rypien have taken away from the innocence of hockey, and of sport. The game’s supposed to give, not take away. Enough.

Image credit: Reuters, via daylife.

For the Blue Jays, it was revenge, pure and simple. Unlike the last time Toronto and Seattle completed a three-game set, the mood in the Toronto clubhouse – the swanky, air-conditioned Rogers Centre clubhouse – was jovial.

“I’d be lying to you if I said we didn’t talk about that April series before game one on Tuesday night,” said manager John Farrell. “They ended our season after, what, 10 games? I hope they lose another 12 in a row.”

Octavio Dotel didn’t do a whole lot of relieving last night. It feels like he rarely does. Every year, there’s one guy I hope never gets the call from the bullpen. I know he has to. I know it’s inevitable that he’ll be coming into the game, eventually. The manager can’t let him rot out there. But I just, well, don’t want him to. We’re nine days into June; a third of the season’s officially complete. Only a hundred games left. Dotel’s that guy.

“Oh, no. Not Dotel.”

That’s my usual reaction to when Jerry Howarth lets me know that Octavio”s warming in the bullpen.

“Please, President Farrell. Don’t do it. I’ll be good, I swear.”

Followed, sooner or later, by: “Oh, Octavio.”

What’s unfortunate is that Dotel hasn’t been that bad. Prior to Wednesday night, Old Octavio hadn’t allowed a run in his last seven appearances, lowering his ERA each time out. The honour — That Guy in the Bullpen — should actually go to Frank Francisco. He’s been fucking brutal. But so much was made at the start of the season about how Dotel was being used — splits be damned! — that I find I’ve got little to no faith in the guy. And then, last night in Kansas City, Dotel was again put in a position to succeed, brought into the game to face right-handed hitting Billy Butler, and he gave up a three-run bomb. In eight previous at-bats against Butler, Dotel had held him to one hit, a double, and had struck him out twice. That’s baseball, yo. God bless it.

I used the word “again” above on purpose. Someone, Alex Anthopoulos presumably, has gone and done what I was hoping they’d do, and left a copy of Dotel’s splits on John Farrell’s desk. Anthopoulos is stealth-like, which is why I assume he did it. Proof: In Dotel’s last eight appearances (including last night’s at-bat versus Butler) – 6.1 IP, 5 H, 2 R, 1 ER, 1 HR, 2 BB, 9 K – he’s faced true left-handed hitters four times, and switch-hitters four times, out of a total of 26 batters. The only time Dotel faced more than one left-handed hitter in an outing — switch-hitter or true left-handed hitter — was against the Minnesota Twins on May 15, with Toronto up 11-3 at the time, when he faced four of them. Yeah, about the only time Dotel should be facing more than one left-handed hitter.

Out of those eight at-bats versus lefties, Dotel retired six of them. Go figure. Only Minnesota’s Alexi Casilla and Denard Span managed hits — both singles — off of Octavio, and they both came in the rout of the Twins I mentioned above, on May 15, when I presume Dotel was rightfully experimenting.

The sample size is small, but that’s not the point. John Farrell got the memo. Octavio’s going to be fine. Octavio’s going to turn into a precious draft pick. And I’m going to set my sights on Frankie Francisco.

Image — Dotel face! — courtesy of Reuters, via daylife.

It’s true: I’m rooting for the Vancouver Canucks. Have been since day one of the playoffs. It’s got nothing to do with geography, and nothing to do with the fact they’re a Canadian team. By my count, there are only five Canadian hockey teams: the Toronto Maple Leafs, Canucks, Edmonton Oilers, Calgary Flames, and Winnipeg Jets. The Montreal Canadiens and Ottawa Senators aren’t from Canada; they’re from hell. And, for what it’s worth, I’ve got no problems rooting for an American team. I did in 1994, when the New York Rangers won the Cup. After the Leafs were eliminated by the Canucks, of course. I cheered on the Colorado Avalanche in 2001, and the Anaheim Ducks, lord knows, in 2007.

On Twitter, I mostly follow Leafs fans. And a handful of Boston Bruins fans. They all, with intense passion, hate the Canucks. Everyone – from Krys Barch to Dave Bolland, who very creatively called them “sort of like a girl,” – hates Vancouver. And I’ll be honest: it’s that very hatred that makes it easier for me to root for Vancouver. It’s the contrarian in me. And, hey, I’ve got nothing against the west coast. I’ve visited Vancouver a couple of times, and love the city. The mountains: so pretty! The people I’ve met from Vancouver have been all class, and I’ve often toyed not-so-seriously with the notion of one day moving out there. I know, they hate Toronto. Who cares. Who doesn’t hate Toronto?

As for the Canucks, I actually do enjoy them. They’re my backup. Have been for years. The Sedins have a lot do with that. I love those two creepy bastards. I fell for the Swedish twins a long time ago, and still wonder what might have been had they become unrestricted free agents on July 1, 2009. While my flirtation with the Canucks was certainly aided and abetted by Mats Sundin’s short fling with Vancouver, dominant Swedish players really do it for me. That’s just the way it is.

There’s also Ryan Kesler. I remember, years ago, when the Philadelphia Flyers signed him to an offer sheet, thinking, “The Flyers are out of their goddamned minds; Kesler can’t play goal.” Turns out, the Flyers were right. Kesler’s turned into a dominant player: a 40-goal scorer who can play, and play well, in any situation. Also: I wasn’t around last February, when Kesler pissed off our entire country as a member of Team USA, so he’s never actually given me, personally, a reason to hate him. The way I feel about Kesler is much like how I feel about one Pernell Karl Subban: I wish he was on my team.

I also happen to be a Roberto Luongo apologist. It’s the goalie in me. Even though I think it’s ridiculous that a goalie with a career .919 SV% in the regular season and the playoffs has apologists. All those years in Florida, making all those saves, while never getting a sniff of the postseason, endeared him to me. Finally, when he became a Canuck, and made the dance, his legacy was destroyed by the Chicago Blackhawks. Pulled in a pivotal game six match-up just a month ago, Luongo, the same goalie who came on in relief to get Canada to the World Cup final in 2004, and who backstopped Canada to Olympic Gold in 2010, in overtime, no less, apparently doesn’t have the mental fortitude to win hockey’s biggest prize. Right. Luongo’s endured. That’s what I love about him. He’s dealt with all the criticism and is now only two wins shy of winning the Stanley Cup. Luongo’s the goaltending equivalent of Mike Modano: no respect, until he wins it all. And perhaps that’s the way it should be.

Finally: Manny Malhotra. He’s of Indian descent. I’m of Indian descent. And there really isn’t much more to it than that. He’s representing for more than a billion of us, and that’s why he’s one of my favourite players in the game. I still can’t believe the centre-starved Maple Leafs threw $9-million over three years at Colby Armstrong, while Malhotra signed for three years and $7.5 million. An extra million and a half bucks for truculence, I suppose. Anyway, there’s nothing I want more than for “Malhotra,” as Indian a surname as you’ll find, to be etched on the Stanley Cup for all eternity.

This brings me to the second half of this post: Why your reasons for hating the Canucks are, well, a touch insane.

Look, if Jim Hughson’s a homer, what in the hell does that make Joe Bowen? I don’t care that Bowen wouldn’t be calling nationally televised Stanley Cup finals games on CBC, should the Leafs ever make it that far, which, let’s be honest, they probably won’t. That’s not the point. The point is: Hughson’s a B.C. boy, has been an award-winning hockey sportscaster for as long as I’ve been alive, and is about to watch the team he’s covered for the majority of his career perhaps win a Stanley Cup. You’d be yelling “Great. Save. Luongo!” at the top of your bloody lungs, too. Get over it.

Vancouver Canucks fans: they’re annoying. I get it. Really annoying; the worst. But they’re not the first and only team with “douchebag fans,” and “bandwagon fans,” and they won’t be the last. You know who was annoying last year? Montreal Canadiens fans. And they didn’t even reach the finals. Do you remember Ottawa Senators fans in the spring of 2007? Of course you do. Bottom line: no one, and I mean no one, will be more annoying than Leafs fans should Toronto ever make the Stanley Cup finals playoffs. Parades all day, every day. Let them have theirs. We’ll certainly have ours.

That’s not to say that Canucks fans, and the Canucks themselves, haven’t brought the hate upon themselves. When Raffi Torres is out there headhunting Brent Seabrook, when Aaron Rome makes the dumbest decision of his hockey life in drilling Nathan Horton, and when Vancouver employs the likes of Max Lapierre, yes, I can see where the hatred stems from. But the narrative that the Canucks are the dirtiest team to ever grace the ice, and the only team to ever dive, whine, and, well, bite, is wrong. Period. I certainly understand that part of being a fan of any team, in any sport, is being a hypocrite. I’m the same Maple Leafs fan that cheered and adored Tie Domi, Darcy Tucker, Dave Manson, and, yes, even Bryan Marchment, when they wore the blue and white. Every team’s got ‘em. It just so happens that it’s all good when they’re wearing the sweater you’ve chosen as your favourite.

Both teams have long-suffering fan bases. At least one’s drought will end. And I’m all for long droughts ending.

Image credit: HiLobrow.

If there’s one image that so far defines Edwin Encarnacion’s tenure as a Toronto Blue Jay, it’s that one, above. Third base or first base, it hardly matters; the baseball’s either getting by Edwin, or he’s throwing it somewhere it’s not supposed to be thrown.

Encarnacion’s rather photogenic – Edwin face has been a personal favourite for quite some time. But the photo above is, for now at least, Encarnacion’s legacy.

Some guys can’t hit. Think: Johnny Mac. Some guys can’t field, as witnessed by Eddie E’s almost unfathomable -70 UZR/150 at third base, so far in 2011. If Alex Anthopoulos, steward of the Blue Jays, truly has a responsibility to “try and win as many games as we can,” Encarnacion will never play third base again.

Yet through all of Encarnacion’s misadventures, I still can’t find it in me to refer to him as “E5.” That just seems like piling on, because no baseball player deserves such a moniker, even though Edwin probably does. I’ll stick with “Eddie E,” and continue to hope against hope that Encarnacion, somehow, puts it together in the field.

Edwin’s most recent gaffe courtesy of Getty Images, via daylife.