We are accustomed to easily recognizing and articulating the qualities of sporting excellence, often describing the world`s top athletes with words like powerful, dynamic, and transcendent, based on their visible actions and movements.
It is considerably harder to describe the absence of such greatness. This is because exceptional performance isn`t a given; we typically expect professional athletes to perform at a competent, average, or sometimes even below-average level without much comment. Like noting the absence of a smell (which would be strange), we usually only remark on the outliers – the presence of something remarkable.
However, when a player is a Hart Trophy winner in the prime of their career and among the league`s highest earners, or when another commands an $11 million annual salary while delaying a contract extension for a salary more aligned with the absolute elite, fans and commentators are understandably justified in expecting moments of significant brilliance. The lack of this expected `greatness` becomes noticeable and surprising.
For Auston Matthews and Mitch Marner, this specific issue – the perceived “absence of greatness in big games” – hangs over the Toronto Maple Leafs like a pervasive void. It tends to overshadow all other team narratives and concerns. It becomes challenging for observers to offer concrete, specific critiques like “Here`s exactly what you should have done differently,” because these players, as presumed greats, are expected to instinctively possess the vision and ability to create impactful plays when the pressure is highest, much like a gifted composer hears the music before anyone else.
The implicit question from the stands and commentary box is often: “We don`t have the exact answer; you`re the one who is supposed to be great and find it.”
Tristan Blackwood