“There is no way that this season will be as bad as the last one.”
That’s what I said last year around this time to a friend of mine about the Toronto Maple Leafs. I meant it too. 2008-2009 was a horrible year for the blue and white, and there would be no chance that they would be worse – not with all the improvements they were making. And so in 2009, Toronto would finish…
…29th. And no draft pick. Man it would have been nice to have Seguin. I’m sure this will sting in a few years when he and Raycroft – my bad, Rask – starts busting some Toronto skulls on a regular basis. Or simply continue the skull busting that’s been going down for the last few seasons…
So surely, this season, there is no way it will be as bad as the last one.
I bleed the blue and white but I’m not hopeful. And I wish I could be. Yet another lament of another sorry Leafs fan. I give them until I’m 67 years old. If no cup by then, I begin to give up hope. That’s my line in the sand. If I reach 67 before they break ’67, I’m out. The love of the game stays, the loyalty goes neutral. I will only do this to myself for 44 more years – that’s fair, right?
The point of all this is: I do not care for Vesa Toskala.
Vesa came into Toronto, played a few mediocre seasons, let in some horrible, horrific, and terribly nasty goals*, played well below his pay grade, and was shipped out in a “don’t let the door hit you on the ass” kind of fashion. He cared more about nice suits than stopping the puck, and is a generally unlikable guy. If you’re a Leaf fan and have nice things to say about Vesa Toskala, you must be related to the man.
I recently moved to Finland, Toskala’s homeland, and as one does when moving to a foreign land I immediately learned how to ask for the toilets. What I was delighted to find out was that the word for bathroom/toilet/etc. in Finnish is pronounced ‘vessa’. Now, to Finnish ears, there is a slight difference due to that extra ‘s’, but to non-Finnish ears, (see: anyone outside of Finland) it sounds exactly the same. When I need to find out where to pee, I ask for you, Vesa.
Vesa, you fucked us. For a good couple of years, you destroyed the good, and almost flawless, name of Finnish goaltending. But, Vesa, I do feel a little bit at peace, in knowing that your name literally means shitter. It is almost poetic in its perfection.