There have been two times, in the short, colourful history of Toronto FC, where the blueprint utterly failed.
I’m not talking about missing the playoffs twice in their first two seasons. I’m not even talking about two different MLS records for longest goalless droughts (overall, and off the start of a season).
I’m talking clear, specific jobs that needed to be done – HAD to be done – where creeping inability strangled what should have been joy and history on the field: where celebration parties rang long and loud throughout some other city’s night.
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The first came last July 22nd, in the dying moments of the Voyageurs Cup finals against the Montreal Impact at BMO Field. Toronto GM Mo Johnston utterly failed to have a striker other than Jeff Cunningham in the Montreal penalty area when the ball sprang loose not even five yards in front of a gaping, empty net – which was also the portal to that mystic, unexplored realm, the CONCACAF Champions League.
Cunningham whiffed. It wasn’t even close. Iron curtains crashed down. Montreal went on to a great cup run. Toronto was forced to rebuild – and pretty much the first move was gassing Jeff Cunningham.
The second catastrophic, systemic Toronto FC failure came last night, at Swangard Stadium in Burnaby, B.C. Toronto FC, needing only a draw to clinch the Voyageurs Cup, squandered chances, blew build-ups, lost the plot, lost the plan, misplacing any way to get home from here.
They also lost the game, 2-0.
Sure, they can still win the Voyageurs Cup – but they have to go to Montreal on June 18 and beat the Impact by four clear goals. I think humanity has a better chance of finding life on the moons of Jupiter by then. (It’s probably there – Europa, most likely – but no one’s out looking for it this month.)
There’s a reason the V-Cup ends up highlighting just how badly built Toronto FC really is. This is a significant trophy in this part of the world, there are only two other teams to beat, and they both play in a lower league. Winner gets a mug, a huge regional tournament, and an outside chance to play the European or South American club champions down the road.
Sure, the MLS playoffs are the real goal. But that’s a seven-month grind. This is just a few little games. Sure, they dropped it last year. But this year …
Whoops. Thud. Sigh.
Dwayne DeRosario. Adrian Serioux. Incoming Canadian lads who want to win this mug. Jim Brennan. Greg Sutton. Kevin Harmse (bless him). So what went wrong? How did bauble night in Burnaby turn into Botch Job II – The Wreckoning!?
Let us first agree that we’re talking about far deeper problems than one soggy night on a lovely piece of west-coast soccer turf.
History has shown that the Titanic was sunk by greed, arrogance, pride and impatience long before it got to second base with that iceberg. Similarly, the wreck of TFC ’09 was actually sown in the opening two games of the tournament – both of which Toronto won.
Both Vancouver and Montreal got similar treatment at BMO Field as the cup chase began. Toronto played the ball on the carpet, dominated possession, moved effectively from defence to midfield to attack, and took all six available points without conceding a single goal against.
But for all their domination and chances, each game was won only by the scantest of 1-0 margins. I told anyone who got near me after the Montreal game that Toronto was going to pay for not scoring more goals.
Some credit to Johnston: after he fed Cunningham to the kangaroos, the TFC GM went out and signed himself some soccer players. This roster has depth and options its predecessors could only dream of.
But how does it all mesh on the field? My colleague Duane Rollins writes extensively about how MLS teams are much more talented than their USL-1 cousins. But soccer is a low-scoring upset game. The issue last night wasn’t talent. It was applied talent.
One can argue the Torontos created at least a half dozen fine chances last night. But the chronic finishing woes continue. Chad Barrett whoomped yet another gold-encrusted scoring chance straight into yet another grateful goaltender. Pablo Vitti did his dances, made his moves, got good marks from the “So You Think You Can Dance” judging panel, and continued his perfect record of never, ever, ever scoring a goal for Toronto FC.
DeRosario looked occasionally like one might want to be cautious around him, but nothing he created was ever going into the Vancouver net.
Is it the coach? I’ve still got time for interim bench boss Chris Cummins. I like the way he thinks, and adjusts. But last night was the exam. In the second half, when it was still only 1-0, TFC needed just one goal to their hands on the cup. Cummins’ tactics and strategies failed.
Forget the chances they created. How about all the balls passed directly to white-shirted Whitecaps? How about two cheeky back-heels (one from Barrett, one from Vitti) that ended up dierectly on Vancouver boots? And – achingly – how about all the times they came up to the centre stripe, looked downfield … and just plain ran out of ideas?
TFC was hugely guilty of hubris. “We’ve got the talent,” their body language seemed to simper. “We don’t need to sweat the details on every trip down the field.” The more I saw, the more I knew Vancouver’s second goal was coming.
And now, because they couldn’t find more goals last month back at BMO, Sgt. Cummins’ Lonely Shots Club Band now face an all-but-impossible task when they stumble off the Green Line Metro into Joey’s House of Cheese.
Sure, Mo, there’s no Jeff Cunningham to kick around anymore. But how long can we all tolerate Chad Barrett converting seven percent of his chances? How long to we have to watch Pablo Vitti never score?
Just how freaking much, exactly, is Danny Dichio supposed to do on his lonesome?
This team has talent. This team cannot score.
A coach? A striker? Take your pick. A new man in the GM’s office?
That was a bad failure last night. Not to take anything away from an undermanned Whitecaps side that did the work and buried the chances they created. They’ve been planning all along to win the Voyageurs Cup and take on the continent. Good luck to them, should Toronto almost inevitably falter in Montreal.
This is the second time Toronto has let the Canadian men’s pro soccer championship slip through careless, poorly prepared fingers. These weren’t losses – they were deeply rooted organizational failures.
It’s time to get out the brooms – and the pink slips. A stern and thorough house-cleaning is in order.
Onward!