While the Reds remain mathematically still alive in their quest for a berth in the MLS playoffs -- they'll need to win their final two and have Columbus lose their final two -- their season was essentially finished at the moment Jermain Defoe's penalty was saved by backup Houston goalkeeper Tyler Deric on Wednesday night at BMO Field.
So that leaves the club, yet again, at a crossroads. More importantly, it leaves many supporters at a crossroads.
Because if TFC -- as they almost certainly will -- misses the playoffs again, it will have come after signing three high-profile foreign Designated Players, after the boss (who's already on his way out) promised a playoff appearance, after season-ticket prices were frozen... essentially, after the club used every available tool in its arsenal to convince fans that no, TFC wasn't teetering on the verge of utter and complete irrelevance.
Well, sadly, here we are, and TFC is teetering on the verge of utter and complete irrelevance. And barring the unlikely in the next two weeks' worth of league results, the Reds are about to fumble over the edge.
(This, of course, makes the ongoing expansion of BMO Field -- which never actually comes close to being full anymore -- all the more farcical.)
As I've said on social media, I have profound respect for those who'll continue to stick it out with the team. While the number of hardcore supporters has continued to dwindle in the stadium's south end (coinciding with a rise in the number of cheap-ticket-hunters who want to "have the real experience", sitting down in the precise seat assigned by their ticket), there remains a solid core of good people who, much to the detriment of their own health, will still be there next year.
And there will remain those who, even if they can rarely make it to the stadium on game day, will continue to live and die by the team's results, even as the franchise inevitably goes through its ridiculous yearly cycle of scorching and salting the earth on which it stood, in search of a brand new solution, new management, new players, new text-message contests and so on and so forth.
Once again, to all of you, my hats are off.
But there will be those for whom this eighth year of misery -- after so much was promised -- will represent the moment when enough is enough. They'll decide that however much Nick Hornby's romantic vision of the unshakably-devoted lifetime supporter is something to be valorized, the reality is that putting gas in their own car and food on the table for their kids should probably take precedence over buying a new scarf and cable package to follow whoever happens to be trotted out on the field in Year Nine's version of the TFC Annual Revolving Door.
And to all of you, for whom this may be the final time you bother to read something online about Toronto FC... well, y'know what, I can't blame you.
There was a time I would have blamed you. That time wasn't too long ago, actually. See, I'm one of those people stubbornly beholden to ideas like loyalty, and for much of my life, I've balked at those who didn't share the exact same conception of it as I did. You pick your side and you're with that side forever and that's that -- that was my simplistic notion of loyalty, whether it came to sports, politics or anything else.
As I said above, though, people grow up.
Take me, for instance. I now live thousands of kilometres away from BMO Field, so getting to the stadium for matchday is definitely not in the cards. I've got new responsibilities that have severely curtailed my ability to follow and comment upon the game (as you may have noticed). And having watched the last two games on TV alongside my two-year-old niece (who, thankfully, has already decided she hasn't much interest in TFC), I've been reminded that there's more to life than hurling obscenities at the tragicomedic athletic failings of a collection of people I've never met.
So, what does this mean? Is this the moment at which I pronounce to the world that I'm swearing off TFC for good?
Against all my better judgment, it isn't. Following this team has continued to get more and more difficult, not just logistically but psychologically, over the course of 2014. But as someone who's gone through a period of profound personal change in the last six months, staying invested in this team has helped me stay connected to what's been a very important part of my life for nearly a decade now -- a wacky, irreplaceable community of people who similarly persist in inflicting this doom upon themselves.
The way that many of us make it seem worthwhile -- whether following Toronto FC, Canada or any other perennially underachieving squad -- is to convince ourselves, and each other, that when success is finally had, when the promised land is finally reached, we will be repaid for our faith in a way that no johnny-come-lately could ever comprehend or experience themselves.
This, of course, is nonsense, since it is predicated on the belief that said success is inevitable; that because there are those of us who refuse to abandon ship, we will eventually see the shore, that we are somehow owed such salvation.
We are owed nothing. Long periods of suffering do not ensure redemption. For proof, ask any fan of the Chicago Cubs.
It's stark and it's distressing, but it is the truth. And it's why I can no longer find fault with people whose commitment to this ridiculous cause has hit an intractable wall.
Because we all know that if TFC misses the playoffs, as they almost assuredly will, then the team will once again go through its yearly fire sale. Panic sells, panic buys. All in the name of tangibly demonstrating that next year, things will be different: "See? Shiny new players, shiny new seats! Shiny new team! Shiny new results!"
Of course, the only new thing TFC could actually do at this point is not panic.
Is this an awful team? It isn't (though it sometimes plays that way). Is the core of the team fundamentally rotten? No, it isn't. Does this team need changes in a few key positions? Yes, it does. Does that mean the entire roster should be completely overhauled, with some new name-brand foreign star brought into the mix, regardless of whether or not he's committed to this team?
Of course it doesn't. What the team needs is some measure of consistency; allowing the group of good, capable players the team has under contract to have more time to gel, more time to form camaraderie, more time to build success.
But by now, we all know that consistency is anathema to TFC.
Actually, that's not entirely true. The team does consistently miss the playoffs. And the team does consistently alienate, exhaust and shrink its once-fervent fan base with its inability to actually stick to one plan for more than a few months on end.
So if you've decided that after eight years, your emotional energy and wallet contents are better spent on your family, your friends or some other endeavour that doesn't cause you to routinely fall into existential rabbit holes, then I can't blame you. Really, truly and honestly. There is so much more to life than punishing yourself by watching a team like TFC continue to do what TFC does.
Then again, this entire post might look completely ridiculous in two weeks' time. Perhaps the improbable will happen; perhaps Toronto will collect the precise combination of results it needs (from its own squad and from other teams in the East) to clinch TFC its first-ever spot in the playoffs. MLS, like every other North American professional league, is built on the ideal of parity -- so while improbable, this occurrence is far from impossible.
Of course, scraping into the playoffs as the fifth seed is hardly the pinnacle of glory; in fact, in some ways it could only serve to wallpaper over the cracks and lead to a false sense of security, followed by a precipitous fall in the subsequent season (see: Montreal Impact).
But whatever the next two weeks (or more) hold, I will foolishly cling to the notion that following and supporting Toronto FC is something worthy of my time. If you're afflicted with the same sports-tinged brand of cognitive dissonance as I am, then you know what I'm talking about, and I'll see you next year.
And if not, well, we'll see you again when the day finally comes that Toronto FC somehow puts it all together.
Sorry, if the day comes.