TORONTO — Legends are built by actions, not words, in a game as visceral as hockey.
So, while Auston Matthews’ press availabilities, be it after decisive win or humiliating loss, aren’t exactly emotional touchpoints, the captain of the Toronto Maple Leafs has often spoken loudest with his body language.
The engagement level of the increasingly scrutinized superstar can be more accurately measured by his on-ice demeanour because, at least publicly, Matthews has settled comfortably into a projection of cool indifference.
More notable, then, was how Matthews celebrated his most recent goal — Tuesday’s power-play top-shelfer that fueled a late three-goal comeback and brought 34 within five of the franchise’s most.
After bending the twine, Matthews raised a gloved hand to his ear, his ear to a fed-up crowd that had been booing the middling home team as it dug an 0-2 hole to the visiting and superstar-free Chicago Blackhawks and looked every bit like a group ready to end its homestand on a three-game losing skid.
The defiant gesture seemed to scream: How ’bout you replace those jeers with cheers, Toronto.
What was running through Matthews’ mind in that gladiator-in-the-ring moment?
“Not much, to be honest,” Matthews sloughed off, speaking to reporters postgame. “Just excitement. It’s just kinda all in the moment. Not really thinking too much, I guess.”
It’s worth noting that Matthews’ shot, snapped in the57th minute, was his first and only of the night, and that the local broadcast had noted in intermission Matthews had the puck on his tape for a grand total of 11 seconds.
This after the leadership group, which he now leads, was challenged publicly Saturday by coach Craig Berube, who again read them the riot act in-game Tuesday.
“The boo birds were coming down. Rightfully so,” Matthews said. “After that first goal, the crowd really got into it, which is great. And then after the second one, the place was rocking.”
If we read Matthews’ Hullk Hogan-esque hand-to-ear move as a microcosm of his complicated relationship with a frustrated Leafs Nation these days, it’s not the first time that very same motion illustrated where the man was at.
Same opponent, second city, remember?
Seven years and a lifetime of hope ago, Matthews coned his ear with his glove and dared the United Center to make a peep. The year was 2018, and the most talented American hockey player going was trying to pass the torch to the Next One.
Matthews and Patrick Kane were trading goals in arguably the most thrilling tit-for-tat, head-to-head individual duel since Sidney Crosby and Alex Ovechkin traded hat tricks in the playoffs.
Matthews’ emotions took hold, like his talent once did so regularly, and his screw-you vigour helped silence Chicago.
That highlight feels like a different era, though.
The moustache is thicker now. The legs heavier and back sorer. The burden more cumbersome.
All those doctor visits and playoff disappointments Matthews has endured since (gotta be at least seven of each, but who’s counting?) appear to have taken a toll.
On the production.
On the enthusiasm.
On, perhaps most significantly, the faithful supporters.
Certainly, it doesn’t help the fan-player relationship — which MLSE president Keith Pelley at least recognizes needs improvement — that Matthews and his Leafs’ lowest moments have unfolded at Scotiabank Arena and that most of their recent big wins occur on the road.
“If I was a fan, I wouldn’t have been too happy with the performance either,” Dakota Joshua said. “No one wants to get booed in their own building.
“To see him come through for us is huge.”
As long as he is under contract, which is two more springs beyond this one, the Maple Leafs will only go as deep as Matthews is willing/able to lead them. We knew that coming into the post–Mitch Marner era.
Matthews has not only lost his best setup man this season. He has lost his greatest shield from criticism.
The accumulated pain of nine, going on 10, attempts to reach a conference final — to say nothing of the original 6-7 curse — has taken a toll for the toxic.
In sunnier times, the fan base debated between Marner, Matthews and William Nylander. Today, the fan base oscillates between anger, apathy and grasping belief.
Hey, the Blue Jays’ outlook also looked crummy until it wasn’t!
“They’re as happy as the team is playing well,” Pelley said in late May. “I thank them for the way that they’ve invested in the team. And I understand, to our fans, that winning is the only thing that matters.
“The biggest thing is how our players relate to the fans.”
For reasons not fully understood, Matthews’ current relationship to the fans is, at best, strained.
A quick cruise through social media sees No. 34 in the crosshairs of frustration more than ever before.
And Matthews’ own commentary frequently misses the mark, whether it’s spinning a personal slump into a group failing. Or, as was the case Tuesday, making the argument that “other than the last 10 minutes of first period,” the Leafs played a solid game before their comeback.
Be it simple counting stats like goals and assists, or deeper dives into possession and physicality and foot speed and shot heaviness, Matthews is not the same force he was at his peak.
Theories abound: Matthews’ health, Berube’s system, Marner’s absence… or, scariest of all, a dip in passion.
Is Matthews realizing what so many fans are thinking: The Maple Leafs might just be, gasp, average.
Berube, for his part, is selling encouragement.
“Our top line was really good tonight,” the coach said after Tuesday’s 3-2 rally. “It’s great to see. Great for him, and great for our team.”
And Matthews’ do-you-hear-what-I-just-did? celebration at least flashed passion.
Looming over all this — the captain’s down campaign, the uncertain playoff spot, the toxic relationship with ticket buyers — is that something big lies around the corner.
Maybe before Christmas.
Matthews’ latest snipe gives him 415 goals as a Maple Leaf. Only the beloved Mats Sundin (420) has more. And not for long.
How will Matthews’ smashing of Sundin’s franchise record — in about 300 games fewer, no less — be received in Toronto?
Will the goal record seal Matthews’ status as the Greatest Leaf of All Time, or simply become another quiet selling point on a sparkling individual résumé of a player who never led this city where it thought it was headed?
We’re all ears.
