Which is why it was critical that the Leafs play with discipline when they returned to Detroit for Game 7. They did, taking no stupid penalties. In fact, they took no penalties at all. Zippo. The Maple Leafs kept the prepotent Wings' power play off the ice the entire game. These Leafs were—are—a team prepared to do just about anything to win. Certainly Gilmour was. He set up Anderson for Toronto's first goal, then defenseman Bob Rouse for the second, and, for the fourth time in the series, he held Yzerman scoreless. All that was before his heroics at the end of the game.
As the Leafs writhed in an elated scrum on the ice after Borschevsky's winning tally, Fletcher, the white-haired 57-year-old architect of these rejuvenated Leafs, closed his eyes, overcome with emotion. "You can't overestimate what a win like this means to a team in its development stage," he finally said.
Certainly the Blues had better not. And they had better keep their eyes on Gilmour. He's the black-eyed guy who will be in the middle of just about everything.