Recently, I went to Toronto under the guise of starting a trip across North America. Somewhere on the way, unfortunately, I broke my foot, cutting the trip short. I figure I will try again once I get my foot right.

Regardless, the time I spent in Toronto was very interesting: the Maple Leafs were still in the playoffs, and had just tied their series with the Flyers up at two apiece. The city was buzzing. Orlando Hudson, reportedly, was even yelling "GO LEAFS GO!" instead of "WEB GEM!" while he chased ground balls. In the interest of informing Veteran Presence readers what it's like to be there, I volunteered my time for the good of the cause: I went to "The Loose Moose", a bar in downtown Toronto, and watched game 5 of the series.

The best way I can sum up the entire experience is through a simple metaphor. When I got to the bar, I took the last seat available. An hour and a half before the game. There was probably 400 people in the place, 95% of whom were wearing Leafs jerseys; and we're not talking standard Leafs replica jersey fare here. People were wearing Leafs jerseys that I'm pretty sure Leafs players had never worn. This was definitely a ">$2,000 a year or more" Leafs supporting crowd. One of the things the bar was doing before the game was offering people temporary tattoos. One waitress got the Leafs logo (temporarily) tattooed on both her breasts and the small of her back, and wasn't afraid to flaunt it. The mood was jovial.

And then the game started. The Leafs had two shots in the first period, both coming at its end. One was a goal, which I suppose is a good ratio. Unfortunately, the Flyers took sixteen or so, and scored three. And these weren't three goals that came out of good play by the Flyers - oh no. The Flyers were scoring on all kinds of Leaf idiocy. Bryan McCabe turned the puck over, much as he did in game four, as if he'd been distracted by someone holding a naked picture of Kate Smith or something. Brian Leetch, I remarked to the guy next to me, was playing pretty well for a guy who had a fork stuck in his back. Keith Primeau was having the absolute game of his life - "the Captain rising up to the occasion" and all that. If Veteran Presence was strictly Canadian, I think everyone of my articles would be about how it's just a freaking letter on a jersey. So bitter. The Leafs had managed to score the last goal of the period on their first shot (19:31 in), though, bringing some hope to the crowd. Or maybe that was just because everyone was drunk. I don't know, but either way - the crowd didn't think a comeback was impossible. The mood was slightly optimistic.

During the first intermission, I was treated to a Don Cherry rant. That's going to be the subject of my second piece on the Toronto trip tomorrow. Ah, alliteration.

Cut to the third period. The score is now 7-2. The optimism has long since been drowned in far too many pitchers of Molson Canadian (whose ad's protagonist asks, rhetorically, "Why don't I drink American beer?", taking the jingoistic Molson advertising campaign to a whole new level; and yet, in America, they used the McKenzie brothers???); at this point, the mood is just out-and-out loathing. People are just yelling out curses at random intervals. The guy next to me, I'm pretty sure, is legitimately crying, something he'd been building up since Belfour had been taken out. Inbetween gaps where his head remained on the bar and he tried to hide his shame, he blubbered faint threats against the life of Bryan McCabe. I just sat there and took it all in with a bemused smile.

And then - out of the corner of my eye - I saw the tattoo-friendly waitress. She'd changed from her tank top and short shorts to a full t-shirt and jeans. No more cleavage. No more flirting. Just stone silence, a stern look, and a pitcher of Molson for a dude whose lap she'd been sitting on during the pre-game show. As I walked out of the bar, I realized it'd started raining. The city was already systematically buttoning up and shutting itself down. It rained pretty much nonstop till I left the next day. The Leafs lost at home a day later. The lesson is simple: Lose, and it rains, and no one gets laid. And - I think the guy who told me on the bus home might've been lying - but if the Leafs lose - people don't even stand on guard for Canada. And no one wants an unguarded Canada.