The Best of Down Goes Brown (27 page)

 

Start a conversation with a hockey fan about the game's most hated players, and it won't take long before Matt Cooke's name comes up. The controversial Penguins winger has racked up a long list of suspensions and controversies, and is often cited as the poster child for everything that's wrong with the NHL.

Is that fair? Not entirely. After all, Cooke actually cleaned up his act for much of the 2011–12 season. But that was only after he'd appeared to run out of chances. His elbow to the head of Ryan McDonagh near the end of the 2010–11 season was so flagrant that even Pittsburgh owner Mario Lemieux spoke out against it, and the league handed out an uncharacteristically lengthy suspension.

What was it about Cooke that had even Colin Campbell, often criticized for being too lenient, ready to lower the boom? A transcript of Cooke's suspension hearing offers some clues.

 

Host:
Hello, everyone, and welcome to tonight's broadcast of every post-game call-in show ever. I'm your host, the lowest-ranking employee of this station. I will now read the phone number too quickly for anyone to write down because I'm hoping against hope that we have no callers tonight. Let's go to the phones!

 

Caller #1:
Yes, hi. I have an opinion on the game I just listened to that will make it abundantly clear that I lack even a basic understanding of hockey.

 

Host:
I will attempt to politely correct your misconceptions while letting the tone of my voice imply that you are a simpleton.

 

Caller #1:
This is a counterpoint that is based on a strategy I once used in
NHL 94.

 

Host:
I will now hang up on you but pretend it was your cell phone malfunctioning. Next caller?

 

Caller #2:
I'd like to waste airtime by informing you of how long I've been a listener.

 

Host:
I am sounding mildly annoyed while I say thanks and urge you to go ahead.

 

Caller #2:
This is a generic observation about tonight's game, which is technically accurate but so breathtakingly obvious as to be completely worthless.

 

Host:
I am sitting with my eyes closed and quietly rubbing my temples while I throw to the next caller.

 

Caller #3:
The previous caller made the exact same point I wanted to make, but I will repeat it instead of just hanging up, because I like the sound of my own voice.

 

Host:
Duly noted. Next caller, hello?

 

Caller #4:
I am confused because I'm trying to listen to myself on the radio while I talk to you.

 

Host:
Have you not listened to a call-in program in the last thirty years, caller?

 

Caller #4
(
echoing faintly
): WHAT IS HAPPENING?

 

Host:
Well, at least this can't get any worse. Next caller?

 

Caller #5:
I have a trade proposal.

 

Host:
Oh dear lord.

 

Caller #5:
Here is my completely ridiculous proposal, which involves acquiring a superstar player from another team in exchange for several terrible players and, to make it fair, a fourth-round pick.

 

Host:
I am unscrewing the top on a bottle of Jack Daniel's while awaiting your explanation of why any team would want to trade a superstar for a collection of players that fans in this city have concluded are terrible.

 

Caller #5:
I am basing my proposal on the assumption that the other team will be unaware of this, as they do not employ any scouts or have access to a television.

 

Host:
I am trying but failing to disguise the disgust in my voice as I throw to the next caller.

 

Caller #6:
I am reading this overly scripted call from a piece of paper while trying very hard to sound like Jim Rome.

 

Host:
I am regretting every vocational decision I have ever made.

 

Caller #6:
Failed attempt to introduce my own catchphrase.

 

Host:
Next caller.

 

Caller #7:
I have a surprisingly rational and well-reasoned point to make that is critical of senior members of the team's front office.

 

Host:
I am afraid to say anything because we are the official radio rights holder and cannot criticize the team in any meaningful way.

 

Caller #7:
Continued cogent argument.

 

Host:
Cell phone malfunction!

 

Caller #7:
(dial tone)

 

Host:
I see that it's now time for my producer to awkwardly get his nightly seven seconds of airtime for no reason.

 

Producer:
My voice is disturbingly squeaky.

 

Host:
Back to the callers!

 

Caller #8:
I would like to explain an elaborate league-wide conspiracy theory, based on one icing call that went against my team in the first period.

 

Host:
I will allow you to continue talking because I am furiously updating my résumé.

 

Caller #8:
I will continue explaining the vast officiating conspiracy against my team while ignoring the fact that our best player broke his stick over the referee's head without receiving a penalty in both the second and third periods.

 

Host:
I will now try to fit in one last caller even though we are seven seconds away from having to go to a break.

 

Caller #9:
Why are you playing music over top of …

 

Host:
Sorry, caller, we need to go. Stay tuned for a sports update that will tell you the score of a game we just spent twenty minutes talking about, followed by three dozen used car commercials, followed by me crying silently into the microphone until morning.

 

In the summer of 2010, my wife and I welcomed our first son into the world. Like any proud father, I didn't want to waste any time teaching him the important values that I hope he'll carry with him throughout his life. So as soon as he was old enough, I sat him down for a very important discussion.

 

Hey, little guy. Wakey wakey. Daddy wants to share something very important with you.

Do you see this friendly-looking blue thing right here? That's a Toronto Maple Leafs logo. It probably looks familiar, since there's at least one on every item of clothing you own right now. And that's because you're going to be a Maple Leafs fan, just like your dad.

I want to tell you all about the Leafs. I want to teach you about Dave Keon and Borje Salming and Mats Sundin and Teeder Kennedy. So let's look through Daddy's old scrapbook together, and I'll tell you all about them.

Look, here's a picture of George Armstrong. He was called “Chief.” He's scoring the clinching goal into an empty net to beat the Montreal Canadiens. Look how happy everyone looks! Do you see all the people cheering? They're happy because they just saw the Leafs win their most recent Stanley Cup.

What's that? No. No, there aren't any pictures of this that are in color.

Because they didn't have color photography back in 1967, that's why. Well I'm sorry, that's just the way it is. Look, if you want to see them in color so badly, go ask your sister if you can borrow her crayons.

Hey, come on now, little buddy, stop crying.

It's not like Leafs fans haven't had anything to cheer about since then. Let me tell you about 1993. That's the year that the Leafs went on a magical run and almost made the Stanley Cup final. They had Dougie Gilmour's spinorama and Felix Potvin's brilliance and Wendel Clark punched out Marty McSorley's eyeball. It was probably the greatest stretch of hockey I've ever seen.

Yes, that's right, 1993.

Well of course that seems like a long time ago to you, you're a baby. Right, OK, I guess that was almost twenty years ago, sure. Nice math skills, Archimedes, do you have a point?

I said stop crying!

Look, I never said being a Leafs fan was going to be easy, OK? But I'm not raising you to be some sort of front-running bandwagon jumper who elbows his way to the head of the line when the team is winning and then bails out as soon as times get tough. The world already has too many Senators fans.

No, you're going to stick this out until the bitter end, and here's why: It will be worth it some day.

If you don't believe me, ask a Chicago Blackhawks fan. They hadn't won a Stanley Cup since 1961, but then that all changed. For a few years they finished in last place just like the Leafs, but now they have a roster full of young stars that they drafted and their team is …

What? No. No, the Leafs can't just go out and do that too. Because they don't have any draft picks, that's why. Because they gave them all to another team, OK? I don't know, because it seemed like a good idea at the time!

No, Daddy is not crying. Hey, isn't there an episode of
The Backyardigans
you should be watching?

Look, kid. I know it seems hopeless. I know it even seems a little bit cruel to raise you as a Leafs fan. I know that whenever you see Daddy thinking about the Leafs he's making angry faces and muttering mean words and drinking from one of his special grown-up bottles.

But here's the thing, son: Someday, the Leafs are going to win the Stanley Cup. It won't happen this year, or the next, or even the one after that. But it will happen one day. And when that day arrives, all the near misses and the lost seasons and the jokes and the blown calls and the sleepless nights will just make it all that much sweeter.

When that moment comes, someday a very long time from now, you're going to appreciate it in a way that only a true fan can. Because you'll have earned it.

That's why you're going to be a Leafs fan, son, whether you like it or not. But if those nice folks from Children Services ask, you chose this of your own free will, OK?

Now let's go get you changed. I think somebody made a Toskala in his diaper.