Mitch Marner and the Hometown Hero That Never Was

That rubbed some people the wrong way, especially with Auston Matthews firmly established as the face of the franchise. Marner’s skill was undeniable, but those moments painted him as self-focused or out of touch. And whether fair or not, that perception never quite went away. All of these points aim at a bigger truth: it’s not just how you play the game on the ice, it’s how you carry yourself within it.

So if I were offering advice to Marner—or any young star stepping into the spotlight—here are a few things I believe are worth thinking about. I’ve decided that this will be my last post solely about Marner. I’ve enjoyed watching him, writing about him, and appreciating 95% of what he brought to the team.

But it feels like the right moment to step back and let the next chapter unfold. Moving to Las Vegas, his career has veered outside my purview as a hockey writer who covers the Maple Leafs. And he’s no longer a part of the team and, for now, the city.

Advice #1: Don’t Always Chase Every Dollar

Here’s some advice I’d give Mitch—or any star player in his shoes: once you hit a certain salary level, say around $8 or $9 million a year, chasing an extra couple of million doesn’t change your lifestyle. Sure, it looks like a lot on paper, but in reality, that money buys a lot of toys, but it won’t buy a happier locker room or more wins.

Taking a team-friendly deal isn’t just about money—it’s about showing you’re invested in the team’s future. “I’m willing to leave some money on the table” sends a strong message to fans, teammates, and management: you’re in it for the long haul and want the team to improve. That kind of humility and leadership goes a long way to building goodwill. If Marner had done that, I think he’d be getting much more credit now.

Advice #2: Own Your Mistakes (Publicly and Privately)

Another thing that stands out: Marner rarely seemed to admit fault or take public responsibility when things weren’t going well. Understandably, players want to protect themselves and maintain their confidence, but acknowledging mistakes makes them more relatable and approachable.

Jack Campbell is an excellent example of someone who connected with the fans because of his admissions of errors. He openly talked about his struggles and took responsibility for his performance. Fans and teammates respected that vulnerability. It showed he cared and was willing to work through the hard stuff. The truth is that Campbell likely was too quick to carry so much blame, and that might have been one of the things that weighed him down and, for now, out of the NHL.

Marner lacked that public humility, which made him seem distant or defensive. He didn’t have to shoulder every burden, but a little self-awareness and gratitude toward teammates would have helped his image.

Additionally, being a cheerleader for others—praising teammates, sharing credit, and offering support—can transform a locker room culture. The rumours were that Marner was great in “the room,” but fans didn’t see that. In public, he often came across as the guy soaking up attention rather than giving it back. That’s a subtle yet essential aspect for leadership.

Advice #3: Connect More Deeply With Fans and the Community

Marner is known for being outgoing and fun off the ice, but oddly enough, he sometimes seemed aloof or uncomfortable during public fan interactions or media moments. He did some solid charity work, but fans never really got to see that warm, down-to-earth side of him consistently.

Players who build genuine connections with fans often experience a boost in loyalty that extends beyond their on-ice performance. Whether it’s showing up at community events, sharing stories about their life, or being more open in interviews and social media, that accessibility matters. If Marner had embraced this side of the role more, the city might have felt closer to him, and maybe he would’ve felt more at home.

Why Marner’s Story Matters to Other Young Players

Marner’s story isn’t just about one player – him. It’s a cautionary tale about how complex being a professional athlete is. Talent alone doesn’t guarantee love or legacy. In contracts, accountability, and community, how you carry yourself off the ice can shape how fans remember you, sometimes more than your highlight reels.

Marner’s gone, and his absence has become a hole on the ice and in the heart of Toronto’s hockey community. But there’s also a lesson here for other players watching: being a hometown hero is about more than just stats. It’s about humility, generosity, and connection.

Oh, my. What might have been. Instead of Marner building a legacy as one of the two or three best players ever to play in the iconic Blue & White that represents the NHL colours of his hometown, he’s become something else – to be assessed in the bigger picture later.

The sad part is that it probably didn’t have to be this way. He might have become the team’s newest version of Wendel Clark – bleeding blue, and loved forever. Instead, he did not.