For those who dismissed Mats Sundin as too quiet, too passive, even too entitled to be Maple Leafs’ captain in his final years, know there were times he felt like breaking a Muskoka chair over some heads, including his own teammates.
There was certainly fire in Sundin’s belly and so much churning in his head as blonde locks gave way to baldness in 13 eventful Toronto winters, detailed in his new book, Home and Away.
In January 2008, still believing the post-Pat Burns/Pat Quinn Leafs could win a Stanley Cup, but frustrated at snipes he was getting too comfy as captain to relinquish his no-trade clause, he combusted in the second intermission of a must-win game in Anaheim, down 4-0.
Incensed by hearing idle chatter as he entered the dressing room, Sundin swung his stick full force on a table full of sports drinks, gum and hockey tape, as staffers leapt out of the way, with a follow-up blow that broke it.
“Whatever I said next came from the gut,” he wrote. “I was angrier than I’ve ever been. Not just about this game we were now poised to lose, I went on about the privilege of wearing the Leafs’ jersey, how lucky we were to be sitting in that room. I was disgusted by our lack of effort and character.
“No one could look me in the eye. My voice cracked a few times. It wasn’t a performance, though.”
That rant and other un-Sundin anecdotes through 300 pages are a revealing glimpse at the man who held one of the highest sports’ offices in Canada, became the famous franchise’s all-time scorer, yet couldn’t lift Cup-starved Leafs Nation on his own nor retire in Blue and White.
After his awkward Toronto departure and short stint in Vancouver, he returned to Sweden to the private life he craved, raising three kids with wife Josephine, until recently taking a more visible role with his old team.
“I’d been asked a few years about doing a memoir,” Sundin told us of the project with Toronto novelist Amy Stuart. “I decided it was time, while I still remembered my childhood and while my parents (Gunilla, a nurse, Tommy, a phone technician and one-time club team goalie) are still alive. My kids are 12, 10 and 7 and never saw me play me play. So it was a good time to reflect.”
In addition to his formative years, his first stop in Quebec as the NHL’s first European No. 1 pick, the trade for Wendel Clark, Toronto’s two trips to the conference final and Olympic gold, Sundin wanted to highlight how much family means to him. He emphasized not being raised with unreal expectations foisted on him, but to be a good citizen as well as star athlete.
“My parents, my brothers, never put pressure on me. My parents stayed middle class, hard — working, but we could all keep our dreams. Look at the 1970’s and how much more pressure there is today in all sports, not just hockey. It’s something I wanted to say, that there’s no magic pill you can give kids. If I can be half as good as my parents, taking my kids to practice at 7 a.m. or 7 p.m. as my parents did, I’ll be happy.”
“The other reason for the book is Toronto is such a special market, you want to give people a sense of what happens behind the scenes.”
Sundin had thick skin where his critics such as Don Cherry were concerned, unless he perceived a beat writer or radio reporter crossed the line. That prompted the rare ‘Sundin Signal’, a scowl and index finger summoning the person aside for a not-so-civil 1-on-1.
Burns and Quinn usually let Sundin lead by example and his lieutenants such as Tie Domi helped keep the room in check. As one-time president of the Canucks, Quinn had scouted Sundin before his draft, giving him a Canucks’ pin, assuring he’d make it big in the NHL. But early in their joint Leaf tenure in 1998, the Leafs lost decisively in Vancouver in Quinn’s return.
Rather than be diplomatic or attempt to sugarcoat that 4-1 result, Sundin was blunt to the press that the Leafs “gave up”. Quinn waited a couple of days before confronting Sundin in front of the entire team, waving a newspaper with the quote.
“Our captain here says we gave up,” Quinn snapped. “Isn’t that the worst thing you can say about your teammates? You’re the f**king captain. Why don’t you explain what the f**k you mean?”
Sundin resented being called out for telling the truth and shot back that the Leafs had been guilty of two needless penalties that third period, in essence throwing in the towel.
After a few moments of silent tension, with the players watching both men, Quinn conceded Sundin’s point and life went on.
Sundin loved T.O., its fans, the significance of being their first non-Canadian captain and like Darryl Sittler, Rick Vaive, Clark and Doug Gilmour before him, did much for charity and the city’s renowned Hospital for Sick Children out of the spotlight.
That didn’t deter a crank from getting his private phone number late at night before a home game. A gruff male voice woke him with a death threat if he played. Extra security was present as a shaken Sundin scanned the stands during the anthem. Nothing came of it.
His waning years in Toronto yielded no Cup, or even another playoff run. Instead of admiring his loyalty, many judged his refusal to be traded as hindering a rebuild. With Bryan McCabe, Tomas Kaberle, Darcy Tucker and Pavel Kubina in the same contract situation, they became known as the Muskoka Five for alleged indolence as the 2008 trade deadline neared.
In the book, Sundin recounts his anger when interim general manager Cliff Fletcher asked again in a late-season meeting if he wanted to stay, telling him serious Cup contenders were pitching him deals.
“I could’ve screamed ‘I want to win the Cup in Toronto. What part of that don’t you understand?’. I want to build, not destroy. I was having my best season in seven years.”
Fletcher didn’t push the issue, Sundin stayed, but the Leafs missed playoffs a third straight year of what became seven in the wilderness. Sundin’s contract ended and he resurfaced in Vancouver a year later, the Leafs getting nothing in return.
“Such a long time ago,” Sundin said in our interview. “I understand now that no side was wrong or right. In my position, I wanted to finish here, the rest was business, the Leafs doing what they thought was right.”
There has been reconciliation; a Hall of Fame call that came personally from the retired Quinn, a statue on Legends Row, No. 13 retired, Sundin standing with Swedish pioneer Borje Salming in the latter’s last Toronto appearance before his death from ALS. Sundin’s family was a big part of last year’s Global Series when the Leafs played in Stockholm and he spent a few day here at last month’s training camp.
“I really did hope to finish my career as a Leaf,” he told us. “The real regret was not winning the Cup, for me, but also for Leaf fans, who have supported the team for generations.”
ONCE A LEAF
Featuring one of more than 1,100 players, coaches and general managers who have played or worked in Toronto’s 107-year NHL history.
MATS SUNDIN
BORN: Feb. 13, 1971 in Bromma, Sweden
Years as a Leaf: 1994-2008
GP 981 G-A-P: 420-567-987, 748 PIM
Playoffs: GP: 77, G-A-P: 32-38-70, 66 PIM
Number worn: 13
THEN
From a controversial 1994 trade with Quebec for then-captain Wendel Clark, Sundin had a point in his Leaf debut and eventually passed Darryl Sittler for the most in franchise history.
Still the club leader in power play and game-winning goals, Sundin used size and speed to burst through centre or the left side around the net. On Oct. 14, 2006, his short-handed overtime hat trick strike against Calgary marked his 500th NHL goal. Unsure at first about taking the Leaf captaincy, he did so at the urging of countryman Borje Salming, who regretted turning down the offer to be the first NHL Euro-captain a decade earlier.
Remarkably consistent on ice and resilient when it came to quick returns from injuries, Sundin is the last captain of a Leaf team that made the conference final. A second all-star team centre in 2002 and ‘04, he was named to the Hockey Hall of Fame in 2012.
NOW
Sundin did some commercials for a global sports betting web site, but once he and wife Josephine had their three kids, Bonnie, Nathaniel and Julian, he’s been a busy man taking them to everything from hockey to piano lessons from their home in the Stockholm area.
He jokes his kids have little time to watch “grainy videos of me scoring in 1990 and ‘91 … they’re keener on the game’s young stars.”
Sundin credited enforcer Tie Domi with helping him play in a secure environment and continues a strong bond with son Max.
“To see Max at age 8 or 9 and now in Blue and White is great to watch and I was really happy when he signed long-term.”
Sundin still finds time for annual fishing trip with his brothers to a remote part of northern Sweden. It was there in 1994, that a national TV station rented a helicopter and somehow found his remote campsite the day of his trade to the Leafs.
A greater role with the Leafs in coming years is a possibility.
FAVOURITE LEAF MEMORY
“Any time we were in the playoffs, I’d be walking downtown to the rink in the morning and all these guys on Bay Street were wearing Leaf sweaters tucked into their nice suit jackets. It showed you how everyone was a fan and how much the city loved the Leafs.
“If we won a big game or series, trying to get home with all the people celebrating could be difficult, but you didn’t mind because everyone was so happy.”
X: @sunhornby