As a Toronto Maple Leafs fan first, when I sit down to write, I’m not impacted by outside influences. There are no agents sliding into my DMs and I have no fear of reprisal when I begin to type. This article isn’t for the insiders, it is written by an average Leafs fan, for the average Leafs fan.

While not everyone will agree with what I’m about to say, I know a large portion of the fanbase feels exactly the same way. This is for you.

The Broken Promise of a Hometown Hero

When Mitch Marner was drafted by the Toronto Maple Leafs, he represented a unique opportunity. He was a hometown product who grew up worshipping the Blue and White, drafted in the top five. It was the first time the franchise had selected a player that high since drafting Scott Thornton in 1989.

Marner had all the tools to be a generational fan favorite: high-end skill and the pedigree of the London Knights, the best junior hockey program in the country. He loved Toronto and beamed with pride on draft day. Unfortunately, that was the last time things between Marner and the Leafs were truly good. Weeks later, he signed his entry-level contract in contentious fashion, agreeing to no “Schedule B” bonuses.

The Contract Saga: Money Over Loyalty

At the time, Marner was fine with the signing. But 12 months later, when Auston Matthews signed his entry-level deal, Lou Lamoriello awarded him full bonuses. Marner held onto this grudge for over four years, eventually using it to hold a figurative gun to the head of then, General Manager Kyle Dubas.

This came after a full summer of refusing to sign an extension, utilizing every dirty trick in the book, from threatening to play in Switzerland to leaking offer sheet details. The Marner camp weaponized the media to extort top dollar.

Don’t get me wrong: it is Marner’s right to request top dollar. However, choosing to handcuff your team to extract maximum value, just to reassure yourself that you’re “almost as good as Auston”, has consequences. Most people are smart enough to understand the repercussions of those choices. Mitch Marner and his camp were not.

It’s simple, you don’t get to play the hero and act like a villain.

A Legacy of Hollow Apologies

Even more pathetic was the reality that followed. When Marner returned to the ice, he felt the pressure to live up to a contract he hadn’t earned. When the faithful began to boo, Marner would clam up in the media or grow visibly frustrated. His entire career in Toronto was handled with what can only be described as some of the worst media training ever witnessed in professional sports.

If fans had a dime for every time they heard, “I need to be better” over his nine years in Toronto, we could afford platinum seats for his return.

Instead, we are left with memories of a player who said he needed to be better, but never made any tangible attempt to actually be better.

The Dry Hair Metaphor

Rewind to last year’s playoffs. Marner was screaming expletives at his teammates, telling them to “wake up,” while his hair remained completely dry. That moment is the perfect metaphor for Marner’s career: Imagine a lifeguard shouting desperately from the sand, pointing to the struggling swimmers, while he remains safe on dry land.

Last year, Mitch Marner put more effort into researching the Vegas real estate market than he did on the ice when it mattered. Recent reports even state that Marner’s family was in Vegas looking for homes before the lid was even on the Leafs’ playoff coffin.

The Verdict: A Footnote, Not a Legend

So tomorrow night, when Marner returns to Toronto, I encourage fans to do whatever makes their heart feel fullest. If you want to cheer for him, by all means, go ahead.

I, personally, will cheer the fact that he’s gone. I’ll boo the player standing on the ice in a Golden Knights jersey, remembering him as the man who cried “team” while only ever giving a shit about himself.

Mitch Marner can be remembered however fans want, but to me, he represents the biggest era of disappointment in franchise history. He doesn’t deserve to have his jersey raised to the rafters or to be immortalized on Legends Row. Marner’s tenure should be memorialized exactly the way it ended: as a failure. He was a player who had all the makings of a hometown hero, only to disappear into the history books as the footnote he is.