Dear Mitch: It’s Okay to Leave the Maple Leafs

I’ve been covering the Toronto Maple Leafs for the past eight seasons, and in that time, I’ve learned that following this team is about far more than hockey. It’s about history, pressure, hope, and sometimes heartbreak. One player who’s been at the centre of all of that is Mitch Marner.

Lately, the noise around him has grown—trade speculation, fan frustration, and questions about whether he still belongs here. But behind every headline is a human person. Like him or not, after everything Marner has given to this team and this city, I felt I wanted to write—not as a reporter or analyst, but as someone who’s watched his journey and wanted to say something quieter, more personal.

Related: Mitch Marner, Auston Matthews & the Maple Leafs’ Chemistry Doesn’t Just Happen

What follows is a letter. One Maple Leafs fan to one Maple Leafs player. About the weight of expectation, the cost of staying, and the potential decision of letting go.

From a Maple Leafs Writer Who’s Watched, Listened, and Tried to Understand

Dear Mitch,

You don’t know me, and I don’t expect you have ever read anything I wrote about you. I’m not a scout, a media insider, or a former NHLer. I’m an old guy, a writer who’s been covering the Maple Leafs for about eight seasons now. I wasn’t born a Maple Leafs fan. But like many who’ve come to write about this team, I’ve come to care about it and the players who wear the Blue & White.

I’ve seen the team rise and fall. I’ve watched the hope build, the heartbreak repeat, and the criticism pour in. I’ve watched you, game after game, give everything you had—sometimes brilliantly, sometimes imperfectly—but always, I believe it was the best you could.

Your Turning Point Off the Ice Makes Sense to Me

I don’t know what it felt like the night you were carjacked back in 2022. But something in your relationship with Toronto changed after that night. Maybe it was fear. Perhaps it was broken trust. Maybe it was realizing that being a star in your hometown doesn’t always mean being safe.

Since then, the scrutiny has intensified. You’ve been booed, second-guessed, and, in some cases, harassed. I’ve heard the stories—fans throwing things on your lawn, trolling your family online, invading the parts of your life that should remain private. You never made excuses. You just kept playing and feeding your friend (Auston Matthews) the puck so he could chase 70 goals.

But the truth is, what you’ve been dealing with doesn’t sound like a “tough hockey market.” It sounds like a toxic environment. No player, no matter how talented or flawed, deserves this kind of treatment.

Mitch, You’ve Been More Than Points for the Maple Leafs

People will argue forever about your playoff numbers or whether you were worth your contract. That’s hockey. I’ll be honest—I didn’t agree with everything you did, especially how your contract negotiation played out. It felt like a distraction the team didn’t need at the time, and I questioned whether the ask matched the resume.

But I also remember: you were 22. A young man in the middle of a high-stakes negotiation, probably trusting the voices around you to guide the way. I can’t fault you for that. Most of us at that age were still figuring out who we were—only we weren’t doing it under a microscope in the biggest hockey market in the world.

Since then, you’ve carried the weight of that contract every single game. That’s professional hockey. But I’ve also watched you kill penalties, block shots, play hurt, and carry the expectations of a city desperate for a Stanley Cup. Sometimes fans forget what that burden really looks like.

You’ve been more than a stat line. You’ve been part of a core that changed how this team played, competed, and was marketed around the league. Regular season or not, that’s not failure. That’s exciting and winning hockey. That’s your legacy, even if it didn’t end in a long postseason run.

If You’re Ready to Leave the Maple Leafs, That’s Okay

So here’s what I really want to say, Mitch: if this offseason ends with you in another jersey, that’s okay. You don’t owe anyone more than you’ve given. Sometimes, the strongest move a person can make is the one that gives them peace.

Leaving doesn’t mean you quit. It doesn’t mean you let anyone down, even if they say you have. It just means you’ve done your part—and maybe it’s time to write the next chapter somewhere new. You’ve earned that chance.

But, if you stay, I hope the city listens. There’s still a chance to write a different ending here, but it can’t happen if you carry everything privately.

You Were the Kid Who Loved the Marlies

I remember the stories of you growing up a local kid who dreamed of wearing the Maple Leafs sweater. That version of you—the joyful one—is the one I hope you can find again. Whether we see that player again in Toronto or somewhere else, I hope you and your young family find joy. It’s worth chasing.

All the best,

The Old Prof