Born and raised in Toronto, I was always a Maple Leafs fan. Named (although my mother won’t admit it) for a young goal-scorer named Darryl Sittler, I donned the blue and white from day one. Through the limited good times and the vast and expansive days of horrid on-ice antics, my colours never changed.
At the age of 15, my friend Jason and I set out to see all 40 Maple Leaf home games. With virtually no budget and a willingness to sit anywhere in Maple Leaf Gardens, we must have paced 200 kilometers on Carlton Street that year. Each night, we had faith that someone would be willing to donate their Leaf tickets to a couple of devoted and cold teenagers.
Between sneaking in past grumpy ushers, to scalpers cutting us a break at the first intermission, to kind people eventually giving in to our polite approach, I don’t remember ever going home to watch a game on television.
We camped overnight for playoff tickets, and knew every seat in that building and how it was uniquely obstructed. We didn’t mind the smoky Gardens hallways, the cramped seats, the cold hot dogs and when we were older, the warm beer.
Like dopey puppy dogs, we followed our team across the country to some of the most hostile hockey environments in North America. We were kicked out in Pittsburgh for buying stolen tickets, had beer poured on us in Quebec City, feared for our lives in Detroit, and were literally chased from the building in Chicago with our ripped Leaf jerseys left tattered behind.
We were dedicated to our team, and nothing would sway us from our devotion.
But as we grew older, we also became less tolerant. Less willing to put up with poor service, a weak entertainment product and an organization clearly with no interest in keeping us as customers, we slowly drifted away from the Leafs. We never rejected the team or the organization, but we found fewer of our entertainment dollars were dedicated to their causes.
We purchased the NFL channel over Leafs TV, stopped fighting to get pairs of tickets to the Air Canada Centre, and when we had kids, didn’t name our first born Salming Leeman Kaplan.
I have gotten over being taken for granted by the Toronto Maple Leafs, convinced that the day will come when even the Leafs will pay for their cavalier attitude toward me lo those many years.
Perhaps the folks at Maple Leaf Sports and Entertainment should pace a mile in horse shoes. Remember, just a few generations ago, harness racing was the number one spectator sport in North America. Dan Patch was a household name long before the Maple Leafs existed.
A sport with a rich tradition and a huge following, standardbred racing failed its customers, and like the Toronto Maple Leafs, took them for granted for far too long.
The good news is that it is not too late for any of us. If committed to growth, real change, and true entertainment for the customer, there is hope. Will horse racing treat its fans with respect and dignity, listen to their concerns and adapt to their lifestyles? Will horse racing appreciate how valuable its remaining patrons are?
Like the Leafs, horse racing may see its future in condominiums and new developments, entertainment complexes and slot parlours, but its lifeblood remains in its ability to thrill.
Lose that and all you have is a cold empty building, destined to some day be in the shadow of something newer, bigger and with a more fashionable logo.
P.S. I once again urge you to be involved from April 29 to May 1 when harness racing interests from across the continent will meet in Montreal, Quebec for the first Standardbred Wagering Conference. There is much work to be done.