It is now the heart of the offseason, with all eyes on training camp in September. It would be a good time to look at one of the most perplexing signings in the last decade.
July 5, 2013, will always be remembered in Toronto Maple Leafs history for one reason alone: the signing of free agent David Clarkson to a seven-year, $36.75M contract, with a cap hit of $$5.25M annually. It was a shocking move that resonated throughout the hockey world not only because of its magnitude, but because it signalled a shift in team-construction philosophy by the Leafs.
Clarkson, a rugged winger from a breakout year with the New Jersey Devils, was meant to bring in a mix of grit, goal-scoring skills, and hometown pride. Instead, his Toronto tenure soon devolved into one of the most notorious contracts in recent NHL history.
The Leafs were riding high on optimism at the time of the signing. They had recently qualified for the playoffs for the first time in almost a decade and were essentially a period away from eliminating the Boston Bruins. Under former GM Dave Nonis, Toronto was looking for size, grit, and experience to complement a young core of Phil Kessel, Nazem Kadri, and James van Riemsdyk. Clarkson, off a 30-goal campaign in 2011–12 and a 15-goal season in the lockout-hampered 2013 campaign, was considered the perfect piece to complete that puzzle.
The signing was down-to-earth. Clarkson is a native of Toronto who was a fan of former Leafs captain Wendel Clark and played junior hockey with the Kitchener Rangers. He possessed the kind of gritty, blue-collar style that this fanbase is constantly looking for. On paper, it was the kind of matchup where hopes are created by a rugged power forward coming home to lead his hometown team to glory.
But it wasn’t all good; there were red flags. Although Clarkson did have a 30-goal season, he had never been an every-night source of offence. That one season in 2011–12 was the only one of his career in which he scored 20 goals, and his shooting percentage in that campaign (13.2%) was the highest in his career. There was a warning that his rate of production might not be sustainable, especially now that he is approaching 30. Moreover, the money allocated to him for seven years and over $$5M annually did not leave a lot of wiggle room.
Clarkson’s Toronto tenure began with a suspension. In a preseason game against the Buffalo Sabres, he climbed off the bench to join a line fight and was handed a 10-game regular season suspension. It was an act that foreshadowed the kind of “team toughness” for which he was hired, but also a harbinger of the cost to come: tough, untamed, and ultimately pricey.
When Clarkson finally makes his debut, the offence did not ignite. In his inaugural year (2013–14), he had a mere five goals and 11 points in 60 games. Injuries and further suspensions kept him from finding his stride. In his second year, he showed some improvement with 10 goals in 58 games, but he remained a shadow of the player Leafs management anticipated. His lack of output, combined with his huge cap figure, quickly rendered him the target of fan anger and media scorn.
By the beginning of 2015, it was clear that the experiment had failed. Miraculously, then-GM Dave Nonis was able to trade Clarkson out to the Columbus Blue Jackets in exchange for Nathan Horton. Horton, who was sidelined for the season and could not even play, had the same cap hit, but his placement on long-term injured reserve gave the Leafs more budgetary flexibility. It was regarded as one of the most improbable trades in franchise history, trading a toxic contract without assuming salary.
The Clarkson saga is seen as a cautionary tale within NHL front offices. It uncovered the risks of overpaying for grit and character on a small sample of offence. It also warned against the risks of signing men to big deals based on sentiment or familiarity. While Clarkson’s heart was always in the right place, no one ever questioned his work ethic or passion for the team; he just couldn’t keep up with the expectations placed upon him in terms of production and ability.
In hindsight, the signing of Clarkson is game-changing. It was the last instance in which the team allowed emotion and short-term play to take precedence over statistics and long-term vision. Toronto has since gone into free agency with greater restraint under Brendan Shanahan’s watch and with greater use of analytics. The era of signing for guts or intangibles per se has largely come and gone.
Nowadays, David Clarkson’s time in Toronto is remembered not for what it was, but for what it learned. It’s a memory that reminds us that the best of intentions can fail, that nostalgia should have no place in making roster decisions, and that winning in the NHL is more than having passion; it is comprised of foresight, discipline, and an unemotional evaluation of worth. For the Leafs, it was a tough lesson, but one they had to learn.
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