Two summers ago I was trying to explain to Alex Anthopoulos what he’d done; the beast he’d awoken – this is a column about Toronto FC, but I’ll explain.
It was shortly after his flurry of activity around the MLB trade deadline had transformed the Toronto Blue Jays and fans were flooding to Rogers Centre and television ratings were going through the roof and the Montreal-born, then-Blue Jays general manager couldn’t quite grasp the depth of passion that was bubbling up and taking over a city and extending across the country.
He would admit that growing up in Montreal as an Expos fan, he wasn’t all that focused on the Blue Jays when they were winning the World Series in 1992-93 and he was too young to understand that those wins themselves were the culmination of a nearly 20-year cycle of pain and hope, with more of the former than the latter.
Those that were around for those years and remember the all-consuming nature of a championship season knew in their bones that there were people – millions of people – just looking for a reason to feel that again and share the sensation with those who had missed out in the ensuing decades.
Similarly, the rise in Toronto Raptors fandom, where the Air Canada Centre has been sold out for 104 straight games and counting, and the passion of those in and around the building – an embodiment of a community that has also grown with the team over a two-decade cycle of pain and hope – wowed U.S. television networks and LeBron James alike during the playoffs wasn’t a new-found thing.
“Can you hear this?” James asked ESPN’s Doris Burke as he was being interviewed moments after the Cleveland Cavaliers had eliminated the Raptors in the Eastern Conference Finals but could barely speak over the “Let’s Go Raptors” chants that were still ringing out. “Much respect to these fans, to this country. This is unbelievable. I’ve never been part of something like this in my 13-year career. This is special and they really appreciate what their team did.”
The years of failing made it possible. The pain turned up the volume. The memories had found a voice.
Just as the time between Joe Carter touching them all against the Philadelphia Phillies and Jose Bautista’s bat flip made the celebration after Game 5 of the 2015 ALDS something more cathartic than any old post-season home run, Vince Carter’s miss against the Philadelphia 76ers in 2001 made just getting to the Eastern Conference Finals 14 years later something that justified chanting and celebrating and serenading well after a season-ending blowout loss was in the books.
One day the Toronto Maple Leafs will advance to the Stanley Cup Final and maybe even win it. That will be a moment that will likely dwarf everything around it not because hockey is bigger than everything else – if it doesn’t happen sooner than later that might not be true at all the way the city is changing so rapidly and the sports landscape along with it – but because the echoes of success and failure already extend across generations.
In this context, what Toronto FC is doing now is perhaps best appreciated as the start of something rather than the end of 10 years of darkness.
Make no mistake, when Michael Bradley – whose steady gaze, winning ways and foundational role in remaking the Reds’ culture will likely earn him a place among Toronto sports’ list of enduring icons – leads his club onto the heated pitch at BMO Field Saturday against the Seattle Sounders it will be a celebration in and of itself.
It will be a moment.
Up until recently, TFC has been like the Chicago Cubs, only aging in dog years. It’s like they’ve crammed 108 years’ worth of crisis, drama and tone-deaf ineptitude into a decade.
The explosion of joy that accompanied their thrilling win over the Montreal Impact in the MLS semifinal was the sound of thousands of people being trapped in a metaphorical elevator, stuck between floors, finally being rescued.
Whatever happens on Saturday night almost doesn’t matter. Fans of Toronto soccer are happy just to be alive.
But perhaps the best way to appreciate what’s happening isn’t by looking back, but by looking ahead. For the past few weeks Toronto FC has been at the centre of the sports conversation. Millions of people have watched their playoff games, which in turn have been the type of imperfect masterpieces that remain unforgettable for years following.
But this is the beginning. There will be more pain because this is sports, and there always is. It could start Saturday night if they somehow can’t harness the energy of 36,000 freezing fans by the lake and the Sounders win their first MLS Cup.
And then, should Toronto FC win it, the frustration could set in if the team can’t be kept together or there are injuries or incompetence or bad luck or just age, which gets every team in time.
The return to the Promised Land could take years or decades. Little ones bundled up against the cold at BMO on Saturday night might be teenagers when it comes again. They might be bringing kids of their own.
Time will march on, but memories of this special season will last lifetimes. And one day when TFC makes it back to this place again – when this season is the standard against all others are measured – the beast will be bigger and more powerful.
Which is the best part about this moment, where a franchise comes of age. Win or lose, there is so much to look forward to.