The Killer

When I was writing a piece for the Educated Sports Community on why Doug Gilmour was not a hall of famer, I started thinking about him - and by extension the rest of the 1993 Maple Leafs, a team which had a polarizing effect on my childhood. It pretty much changed the way I looked at things, really, which is pretty big when you're seven years old. I never again rooted for the same teams my dad did (hence my becoming a Steelers fan when they played the Colts in the 95 AFC Championship) and I never really got over my blame, justly there or not, towards the Killer.

I was talking to a co-worker about him the other day and we both admitted to hating him - she hated him for the infamous milk commercials, I hated him for what I always felt was his me-first kind of play, the kind where he would use all the flash and sizzle he could, but never to enough success.

This was evident with the 1993 Leafs playoff run - I remember his wrap-around goal behind Cujo in the second overtime to win and I remember that he kept trying, at least in my opinion, to outdo it, or at least to duplicate it's success. I remember taking huge shifts and taking it in the Kings zone by himself, I remember him making a lazy pass to Dave Elliot that was picked off and taken in for the first Kings goal and I remember him lying on the ice after getting high-sticked by Gretzky.

Maybe I've always unfairly blamed him for the Leafs collapse, like how Bill Buckner was unfairly blamed for Game Six. I don't know - but I know that he made a mistake that led to a Kings lead that the Leafs never came back from and I know that it was Wendel Clark who scored in the clutch and made it the game it was. I remember people standing up, so much so that CBC had to go to a different camera - people all hoping for a Leafs rally to tie and go to overtime.

I remember feeling like I had been crushed like a bug when they didn't.

But I also remember the Leafs going the distance against the Red Wings when Borschevsky scored in OT. I remember Glenn Anderson scoring in game five. I remember the CBC music stings, the intermissions and the graphics. I don't remember it all, for sure, but I remember almost enough. And I remember it being the most painful playoffs I have ever experienced - every series was a battle that the Leafs just made it out of.

So maybe they ran out of gas - they played 21 playoff games that year, after all, and they were all started by a young goalie named Felix whose career was pretty much all downhill after 93. But they never got closer then they did in 93. They made it back to the Conference finals in '94, '99 and again in 2002, sure, but they never were as close as they got in 93, when they were two goals away from facing the Canadiens.

It's been many years since the Leafs last won the Cup - it'll be 40 at the start of next season - and it's almost looking like it'll be at least a few more before the Leafs ever get as close as they did 13 years ago now - and it's hard to believe that it happened so long ago, too. After all, I was just a kid who was following what everybody else was doing. Having my team win like that would have been something, sure, but it was, well, something else. It was like Game Six. It was like The Band Is On The Field. It was like every other time when your team - it doesn't matter if it was the Red Sox, the Bruins or Duke - fell apart before your very eyes and lost the big one. It's very sobering for a kid - and, in my juvenile mindset, I blamed the fan favorite.

It may not have been his fault - indeed, a better idea might have been on Dave Elliot, who was out of position and had Gretzky bank the game-winner off of him. It could have been the management, who got rid of Wendel Clark (who, it should be worth nothing, always seemed to try and be Messier, taking the team on his back in the clutch) for Mats Sundin. It could have been Potvin, who started every game in the playoffs that year. It could have been anybody - but I blamed Gilmour.

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I'm not sure what I'm trying to say here - that I still hate Dougie, that I unfairly blame him or if I'm just trying to get rid of those bad feelings from 93 that reading about Dougie and watching the Leafs fall apart at the Gardens on Classic gave me. Maybe it's all of the above; maybe it's none. Maybe there is no point, that this is just some lame gibberish lashed together. I don't know. And I guess that I should end this before I really get into something embarrassing.