Maple Leafs: Turn Head, Cough

As a doctor, I have devoted my life to ending the pain and suffering of those wretched souls who wander the world without hope, without direction. Choosing this path in life has brought me many riches; for example, it's how I met Moose. But now I want to put my powers to even greater use: I am going to help the Toronto Maple Leafs.

"But how?", none of you must be asking. How is Greener going to do it? Well, if I told you everything, I'd have to charge every one of you my full fee of $****.95 an hour, so I won't, but I will let you in on a little thing I use in my practice. It's a little wonder drug called POSITIVE THINK-ING! And just how am I going to do this for the Leafs? Well, I'm going to the Leafs/Ducks game today in Anaheim, and I will be personally instructing the boys on how to change the course of their season. I'll be going into the dressing room before game time. A cool guy I met online told me he'd bring me in. He said to come around to the back of the Honda Center around 6:30 where him and his friends will meet me. He said bring money, so that'll be cool. I love making new contacts!

So, a quick visual lesson in Change Your Perspective, Change Your Life™, by Dr. Greener, PhD, PsyD, SeXY.

So, in no particular order, come... enter my healing place.

I mean, right?!? Whether you think you can or you think you can't, you are already correct! You Leafs CAN win, because you WANT to win. Y...Y...You do want to win, right? Guys? *hilarious crickets sound*

God, it's funny cause it's true. The Leafs have lost everything, if "everything" means every hockey game in the 09/10 season. So that means, FREE PASS! You Leafs, to a man, are free to do absolutely anything. If by "anything" I mean beat the goddamn Ducks and let we, the lovers who love you, regain the ability to achieve an erection smile again.

What I'm saying here is that allowing yourselves to live in fear is WORSE than going out and facing up to the thing that you dread the most. In other words, going out there tonight and playing as hard as you can, throwing shot after shot at Ducks (hopefully) call-up goalie Justin Pogge is a lot better than waiting around for Brian Burke to call a meeting with you, Jason Blake, and telling you he's buying you a ticket to the Marlies. Did I say Jason Blake? That was a slip-up. I could have been talking about anyone.

So there you are, a quick lesson into how to make your life a success. I'm obviously living proof that it works. When you watch the game tonight, and Toronto is up by... uh... well let's just say when they're up, just look for the Leafs fan in the stands getting accolades from all his new chums. And when you spot me, just know that I'm thinking of all of you.

KICKIN' THE TIRES

I'm a Torontonian, born and raised, and on her playgrounds is where I skated most of my days. Even though my important years were spent in the Cabbagetown section of the city, my first home, right after I was born, was Mimico. In fact some of my earliest memories are of being on skates in Marie Curtis Park. Mimico is a fine proud section of Toronto and in fact many members of that den of vipers that calls itself my family still live there.

Let's not hold that against Mimico.

I mention Mimico because of something that I recently read about Brendan Shanahan. It was in that paper written by that guy whose best work is his Wimbledon coverage. His article mentioned Mimico's own Brendan Shanahan.

...Now I know what you are immediately thinking; Uh, Norte haven't we been down this road before? 17 games and 5 assists of Yanic Perrault cost us Brendan Bell. And the less said about atrocity that cost us Alyn McCauley, Brad Boyes and our 1st round draft pick in 2003 (and correct me if I am wrong but did that pick not turn out to be Steve Bernier?) the better.
But this Mimico kid, years past his best before date (for sure), a man who probably still remembers the H Salt Fish and Chips jingle; won in junior, won 3 Stanley Cups, and an Olympic Gold Medal, oh yeah and he grew up grew up living and breathing the Leafs.

This isn't Lindros. Nobody needs us to lead us to the promised land. He isn't the final piece of anyone's puzzle. And he is not the prodigal son returned home after every other team closed their door on him.
But what he is, is a winner and a leader. (Like I said, this is no Lindros). And what this teams needs right now, maybe even more than a W is a Captain. A leader who can teach this team how to win. Not even a playoff warrior just a player to be accountable to.

And I can hear my brother's voice in my ear talking about Lou Lamoriello, "he's a great hockey guy Norte," he's saying, "and by everyone's estimation a pretty loyal guy....if he took a pass on Shanny...what does that say?"
And I'd say back to my brother, "Can you like take a step backwards bro? Not to be rude but your mouth smells like feet."
He'd be all embarrassed and maybe cover his mouth with his hand and say, "We'll need to play the kids."
And I'd shrug and tell him that floss is not expensive.

SYMPTOM V CAUSE

You can ask my posting brothers here at He Score He Shoot about all the posts I have begun but never finished this season. They're just sitting there in the dashboard of HS/HS mocking me in their unfinished-ness. I see them, with their barely funny titles, with half baked ideas that really go nowhere. Posts where I've compared the Leafs to deadbeat dad's and said that you and I (the fans) were like a rooming house where said deadbeat dads lived. I believe the big pay-off was saying something about making him pay his rent by the day.

Yeah, sad really.

And yet another post where I talked about set fights (off the draw), and how they were starting to remind me of the Rocky movies. With the law of diminishing returns etc, it's hard to get excited about Colton Orr's 6 minutes a game when you know what he is going to do.

How about the one where I compared the Leafs to the later seasons of Miami Vice. I believe I got as far as calling the Leaf forwards sockless pastels, and our defense as porous as Edward James Olmos' face. But really comparing your top 6 or bottom 6 to an Vittorio Ricci unconstructed blazer and making fun of what must have been debilitating acne for young Mr. James Olmos just seems weak. (Although I will say that I still agree with calling our goaltending the equivilent of rolling the sleeves of your blazer up.)

These un-posts were filled with talk about not liking the play of Komisarek, Hagman, Blake, Stajan or Grabovski...but its like duh...obviously, so that post fizzled after a few paragraphs too.

And that's exactly the problem this year. That this one, unlike any other year that I can remember, has left me utterly uninspired. I have found absolutely no inspiration in losing. So beyond the few interesting (?) things I mentioned above, I haven't had a hold on even one post.
There were plenty of things bothering me of course. I wondered why, for possibly the first time in my life, when I would watch a Leafs on a rush, I'd know - I'm talking KNOW - that it wasn't going to work. I would wonder if it was because we have the worst finishers since the Bachman books were published as an omnibus. And is it just me or do the Leafs not even dump and chase right? And someone please explain how you miss the net when you shoot at it? Luke Schenn?
There are some bright lights, Stalberg looks like he could be real good and Ian White...well...Ian White is Ian White (anybody know why he isn't wearing the C?). Stempniak is playing for a contract which is exactly why he's going to make about 1.7 m than he currently does.
Our forwards gamble less then the Amish on Pentacost Monday (or Second Christmas) when the Amish are generally confined to religious customs, family gatherings, and quiet festivities.
And you know what I hate? When goalies make shooters look better than they are.

...And you know what...the playoffs are over for this team already. I was never good in math but even I know that the playoffs are already done for this team. Like seriously over, seriously. Which makes me want to say serious-the fuck-ly? Serious-the fuck-ly? Already? It's like October though. Over?

This summer I wondered aloud why Burkie addressed the D and G but seemed to F the F's. Who is going to score? Now I wonder who is going to set up Kessel?

It hurts even writing this. I feel sad...like I should be wearing a black arm band or a button like Bill Cosby did after Sammy Davis Jr. died.

enter photo here

ps. I loved Darcy Tucker but showing a glowing tribute to our favourite of the Muskoka 5 seems asinine. Who in the name of sweet shit approved that? If I were on the Leaf bench I would have been livid.

STOP WITH THE PANIC YOU DUMMY

I have been accused of being a hater. I know that there are things that make my fists ache from squeezing them so hard. Everybody knows about my personal fatwa against the nation's capital (I will hereby never use that city's name again in print), there's also Daniel Alfredson, the instigator rule and Flyers Fans. People who can't cook but think they can.

Natural iced-tea bugs me too...like....I gotta tell you...I don't give two shits that you naturally brewed it in your backyard all afternoon.

I don't like finger lickers either, these are the same people who bang on the glass at games.

I would add Howard Berger to that list as well. But saying it seems too obvious; like hating Nazi's or multiple sclerosis. It's like yeah...duh.

I hate the human groin.

I was once doing yoga in my living room, and when I say yoga....i have to tell you I was just trying to stretch and contort my body in weird ways to make my baby son laugh. Saying it was yoga just sounds cooler.
Whilst in one of these 'positions', lets call it the Itchy Lotus, my son laughing his beautiful laugh, his mother, let's call her the fucking loved one, threw a gummy bear at me. Now it wasn't so much that I didn't know that she was there or that I was in a vulnerable position...it was that she threw the candy at my nutsack and hit.
And they were there man...just there....exposed like grapefruit in a basket of grapes. What kind of english she was using I don't know cos she somehow hit both with the one throw...kind of 7 10 split style.
And whilst my son laughed away I unpretzeled myself and did what Doctors would call wrenched my bag.

To this day I there are times that I know that I am one wittily re-produced electric O away from destroying that same nutsack.

And now...because of another weak bag, we're left with the option of starting our 3rd goalie or Joey MacDonald.

WILL HE OR WON'T HE? I DUNNO

Right off the bat I should tell you that this post will not be about the sens and or my snarling, angry wound of a loathe for them. I know that seems odd, as your old pal Norte rarely crawls from under the overpass unless it is to write a screed about how terrible, useless, awful and atrocious the sens are.

Couple that with the fact that they played the Leafs Tuesday night, the timing, at best, seems fishy.

Bare with me.

This post won't be like that. It won't be one of those where I mention how fat the thighs and calves of all the women in the city are. So what if they're all overweight, I say, they have to deal with Pascal Leclaire as their starter.
I won't mention how truly shite a city it is when one of its main attractions is 6km of frozen cesspool, full of missing cats and shopping carts.

....I fucking hate you Ottawa - no wait...I promise I won't sat that either.

I wont even really talk about the game... The Leafs' 2nd loss in a row or that their arena, which smells like feet, is in the middle of a field near some bushes and shit.

I promise I won't rail against their captain. I won't say something like he is a man so fey that David Hyde Pierce once beat the fucking shit out of him.

Scout's honour I won't mention the eye, the lisp or the Neil.

I wont make some left field dada-esque joke like Ottawa is like bad karaoke or mention how the whole city smells like the inside of some dude's ass.

I will not create a piece of digital art for this post; a visual beat so perfect that the nation, so collective in its hatred of that city and its "team" shout "hurray!" when they see it.

I won't mention the Heater or that the former Leaf Killer is now more of an Kings Killer than anything else.

I won't.

I won't even mention the game or the terrible officiating or a stick higher than Kate Moss on cocaine. Or that this team -and believe me I have to squeeze that word out like Fonzie saying "I was wr..wr..wr.wrong"- didn't earn their two points.

See.