Pierre Dagenais said he would accept a salary cap if it settled the ongoing NHL lockout. Mitchell Layton/Getty Images

The NHL Players Association is gathering its players representatives in Toronto for discussions Tuesday, an information session that, when finished, could resemble the biggest pep rally this side of Friday nights in South Bend.

If history is any guide, NHLPA executive director Bob Goodenow will not have everybody merely on the same page, the players will be on the same sentence. This is, of course, what good union leaders do. Goodenow has to keep his side relatively united, a daunting task considering some 230 or more of NHL players are in Europe -- in effect stealing jobs from other hockey players, which is most un-union-like -- and the other 500 or so are cooling their heels after having missed their first regular check in mid-October.

In an association of 700-plus independent contractors -- their agents negotiate their deals separately -- it is hardly surprising there has been some leakage among the membership. Flames defenseman Mike Commodore, who tepidly endorsed the idea of a salary cap, and Canadiens winger Pierre ("I'm Just Another Noodle in the Bowl of Soup") Dagenais expressed misgivings about the union's course last week, while on the weekend veteran Senators enforcer Rob Ray said he would consider crossing a picket line if the NHL ever decided to use replacement players. (Ray said he would not be the first to cross but knows 10 NHL guys who'd be there before him; fortunately he shows more gumption when he fights.)

In any labor dispute some of the rank-and-file tend to get antsy quickly, and most of the public complaints have come from players fairly far down the depth and salary charts. Remember that the $1.8 million NHL salary you have been bombarded with is an average, not the median. Only 200 or so players make more than the average.

Despite the rash of sexy headlines provoked by Commodore and the others, the only real difference is that Joe the Third-Line Lathe Operator isn't asked for his opinion by local radio stations or newspapers.

The NHLPA can lean on players -- remember New Jersey Devils center John Madden quickly backtracking after publicly musing about a cap? -- but no matter what kind of persuasion the union tries, it will not approach the strong-arm tactics at the disposal of NHL commissioner Gary Bettman.

For anyone in team management who speaks out of turn about the lockout, there is a hefty fine. Ask the suddenly poorer Steve Belkin, one of the Atlanta Thrashers new owners who got dinged $250,000 for mentioning to The Boston Herald that down the road the league might entertain the idea of replacement players. Belkin apologized the next day for his ignorant, ill-informed comments but did get to keep his kneecaps. (Now where Belkin got his original information about replacement players is a mystery. Maybe the Lockout Fairy left a note under his pillow.)

If, however, the NHL declares an impasse and attempts to implement its own work rules, you can bet the NHLPA will raise Belkin's chat with the newspaper in court as a sign the league has not been bargaining in good faith.

For any player who says the NHLPA should have a vote, the question is: On what? There is no one proposal on the table, no offer or counteroffer that needs debate at this time. The NHL wants to link salaries to gross revenues of the league at somewhere in the neighborhood of 53 percent, in effect capping payrolls at around $31 million, while the NHLPA wants teams to be free to set their own payrolls. This is a classic philosophical schism but underlying it is nothing more complex than money. If the NHL proposed a cap of, say, $85 million a team and an average salary of $4 million, the NHLPA would drop its objections to a cap in a Toronto minute. And conversely if the if the NHLPA proposed a luxury tax of $2 for every one spent beyond, say, $22 million, Bettman would stop denigrating the salutary effects of a tax.

While the NHLPA has dragged its feet on the safety of its members -- it has not been forceful enough in pushing for visors and no-touch icing -- it has done a brilliant job of making its members rich the past decade. Goodenow might remind the reps and other players who attend of just that, but "Trust me" doesn't work in the current environment.

If the rumblings get louder and spread to high-profile players a few weeks after the Toronto meetings, well, the white towels that fans wave during the playoffs, those will be courtesy of the NHLPA.

Sports Illustrated senior writer Michael Farber covers the NHL for the magazine and is a regular contributor to SI.com.