The location was great, but the draft beer was awful. The joint was dark and grotty, but the food was hot, filling and cheap.
And the atmosphere was – irreplaceable.
When the Dufferin Gate pub was seized by its creditors last month, a wonderfully dingy and down-market hub was erased from Toronto FC fan culture. And U-Sector was left ... homeless.
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I think we all knew the end was near. First, the shadowy, almost invisible grogslot near the northwest corner of King and Dufferin was put up for sale. Then, its owner passed away. There was one encouraging sign – literally. A brand new, actually-kind-of-noticeable sign went up across the building’s front. But, days later, it was all over.
To understand why this matters, you need to meet some folks.
U-Sector is old, by TFC fan standards. It actually dates back years before MLS came to Canada, when a hardy group of optimistic rabble rousers tried to stir up atmosphere at minor-league Toronto Lynx games, from the distant Section U of cold and cavernous old Varsity Stadium.
The old brickyard was essentially atmosphere-proof, even when it was full. And it was never even remotely full.
U-Sector knew the odds were hopelessly against them back in the Lynx days, but enjoyed each other’s company, and a loud night of sport and drink with however many like-minded lunatics they could scrape together.
Red Patch Boys, by contrast, were born of TFC, and came together in large, impressive numbers once the team and BMO Field were set to turn left field of old Exhibition Stadium into a place of real atmosphere, passion and fun.
Red Patch settled in the Shoeless Joe’s pub on King Street, in what is now called Liberty Village. It used to be nothing but empty warehouses and dark, forbidding sidestreets to nowhere. Now, it’s hip. Chic, even, when it’s not sleeting down there.
That’s all well and good – but it ain’t U-Sector. My guys (and yes, I count myself among them) needed something ... else.
They started, back in ’07, at the Wheatsheaf Tavern at Queen and Bathurst. It calls itself Toronto’s oldest tavern, but it proved to be a poor fit for the intense noise and mob behaviour that is soccer fan culture. When that blew up, U-Sector even tried to run its own illicit speakeasy down by the west-end railway tracks, but that didn’t much get it done either.
And then someone found – the Dufferin Gate.
This ain’t some artificial, scrap-and-snoot nouveau neighbourhood like Liberty LaLa Village. This ... is Parkdale.
Just thirty feet into Parkdale, mind you, but the vibe and atmosphere were unmistakeable. Comfortably uncomfortable, and unapologetically real. Nothing ever changes anything in a Parkdale pub. The grit and toughness of this part of Toronto simply will not yield.
The clientele was older. Much older. And they gathered every weekend to dance to this magnificent bar band, which consisted of a tough-as-nails gal singing Hank Williams and Chuck Berry at the piano, and a gifted wizard of a guy who sat quietly at the back and played heartbreaking riffs and solos on a pedal steel guitar.
I’ve been in bar bands. It’s a tough, lonely job. This gal and guy had it down cold.
The dancefloor filled with older ladies, and the occasional older man. Then, suddenly, the place was engulfed on TFC game days by this young, loud, tribal red-shirted horde of crazy people. They could drown out doomsday with the thunder of their songs in the tight, dark confines of this ancient pub.
And it never changed anything! The band played on! Whatever the soccer hordes did, the music played and the old ladies danced. One U-Sector guy in particular loved leaping onto the dance floor, and dancing with everybody there. Instant tradition.
And it was ... real.
When the Gate died, the Red Patch Boys generously invited U-Sector to join them at Shoeless Joe’s, which is only a block or so down King Street, and a wee bit closer to BMO Field.
Understand, there’s nothing wrong with Shoeless Joes. Food’s good, service good, beer’s cold and quenching, gigantic patio and the bathrooms are clean and efficient – something you could never, ever say about the Gate.
But a place with nothing wrong will never, ever feel right for U-Sector. Their vibe is a little darker, a bit rougher, and just that thrilling edge of more chaotic. Comfort is fine and all, but not at the cost of colour. The Gate had huge and cancerous flaws. Flat beer? Food that never arrived? Every square inch of the place was a dark corner. And everybody loved the band.
Developers had their eyes on the place. Liberty Village wants to spread west, and the Gate sits right on the trembling Parkdale shore. As indestructible as the neighbourhood has been, it was only ever a matter a time for the pub.
U-Sector, once again, is homeless. A rotation of possible new home pubs are being tried out. The local taverns know there’s real money to be made. But supporter culture isn’t for everyone, as everyone found out – uncomfortably – back at the Wheatsheaf.
Inevitably – next season, most likely – a new U-Sector watering hole will be found. But it will never be as magnificently mangy as the Dufferin Gate.
So today I raise a glass of flat draft to an unsung and lost original – as perfect a piece of old Parkdale as you could ever wish to find. There’ll never be a better place for bellowing out Hank Williams songs and getting stiffed on a food order.
I only hope the ladies have a place to dance – and the pedal steel guitarist got his axe out of there before the bailiffs showed up.
Onward!