I used to bleed blue, but I broke up with the Toronto Maple Leafs

< warm>This number one individual pillar is written by jordan river Orion Blade Man, who lives in Kingston, Ont. For more information about First Person stories, see the FAQ. 

For most of my life, I was a diehard Toronto Maple Leafs fan. 

My earliest memories include sitting on the shag carpet of my grandparents' house, surrounded by family, as Hockey Night in Canada came on. If I close my eyes, I can still hear the nostalgic horns of the classic theme song.

I didn't play hockey growing up. Playing was too expensive, but the excitement of watching from home made me feel like I was there with the team.

The Leafs weren't a playoff team in the late 2000s, but it didn't matter. They played with heart and gave my family a reason to yell at the TV.

When I was 15, my parents surprised my brother and I with tickets to our first in-person game. They had saved up so we could go inside the arena while they watched from a pub close by. 

That game cemented my passion for the team. Down 3-2 against the New Jersey Devils, with less than a minute to go, Leaf's winger Phil Kessel scored on goalie Martin Brodeur to force overtime. Cheers filled the arena as my brother and I jumped to our feet. 

The Devils won the game but the Leafs never gave up. I left the rink that night thrilled to see my team give it their all.

As the Leafs slowly grew into a playoff team, I grew into a young adult ready to explore the world. When I travelled, my faded Leafs cap was as important as my passport.

I watched my team enter the 2017 playoffs from a hostel rooftop in Australia, and their inevitable exit from a beach in Thailand. 

Wherever I went, I wanted people to know I was a Leafs Fan. But as my team made the playoffs more consistently, It became harder for me to be a fan.

The first tear in my fandom fabric came in 2013 when Toronto made the playoffs for the first time in eight years. 

Some friends and I gathered around the TV to watch Game 7 against the Boston Bruins. With the Leafs up 4-1 with just over 10 minutes left, we were confident. 

Then came the collapse. The Bruins scored three straight goals to force overtime.

While the Bruins celebrated a 5-4 win, we stormed into the backyard. Without thinking, our angry mob of undeveloped boy brains lit a jersey ablaze. As we watched the flames, anger settled into sorrow. We had five months to forget this misery before another season would draw us back in.

The years of pain rolled on and it became harder for me to stay positive. The return to the playoffs in 2017 didn't bring relief; it re-opened wounds and caused tension within my relationships. 

My girlfriend refused to watch games with me because I wasn't pleasant to be around. She was right. I was getting angry at the TV, yelling and screaming at an inanimate object. It was embarrassing.

After five years of first round playoff heartbreak, the final straw for me came in the 2021 series against the Montreal Canadiens. 

Watching the Leafs lose three straight to a rival wasn't just painful, it broke me. The cameras panned across the bench and the superstars looked lifeless, like they'd rather be at an insurance commercial shoot. 

As the Leafs left the ice I threw my hat across the room and tore the jersey off my back. It wasn't the fact that they kept losing. It was the way they lost: indifferent and without heart. 

That was it for me. I had overreacted to a Leafs loss for the last time. It finally became clear that perhaps it wasn't the best idea to put my emotional wellbeing in the hands of some millionaires a.k.a. Players who don't show up to work when it matters most.

For the next two seasons, I didn't watch a single game. 

With my winter evenings now free but my love of the game undiminished, I decided to teach myself how to play hockey, by any means necessary. 

Evenings were spent wobbling around my local outdoor rink, learning skating techniques and puck handling. I fell down more times than I'd like to admit, but it brought a smile to my face. I was learning and it simply felt good to finally play.

Actively avoiding Leafs' games was a challenge because my friends and family were still invested. So eventually, I returned to watching hockey, but I no longer yelled at the TV. I felt nothing as Toronto won their first playoff series in nearly two decades in 2023. It was such a big moment for the team and Leaf fans. But for me, there was no joy. No sorrow. Just nothing. That's when I knew I was truly free.

Today, without allegiance, I can enjoy hockey once again. I can root for any Canadian team making a run, follow an exciting rookie or cheer on a veteran chasing the Hall of Fame. It's beautiful and much healthier.

Hockey looks a lot different for me this season. Instead of slumping into the couch in blue and white, I'll pack my own gear and step out onto the ice wearing my own team jersey for the first time. 

As I skate my warm up laps I'll take pride in knowing that for this team, my team, I can actually make a difference.

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Freelance contributor

Jordan Orion Blade Man is a writer, dreamer and hockey player. He lives in Kingston, Ont., with his fiancé Emery and their puppy, Kiki.

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