Me and probably most of the public recognize Youppi! foremost as that wacky orange mascot for Montreal Canadians hockey, sort of a softer counterpart to the Philly Flyers' more aggressive Gritty. But many people up north are quicker to identify him in his first role as the head cheerleader for the now- defunct Montreal Expos baseball team. Even as a kid, I dreaded seeing my STL Cardinals head into Olympic Stadium during their Dennis Martinez-led period, because I knew they were going to be in for a difficult fight.
And as someone who works at Busch Stadium's retail, I often run into folks with Montreal Expos jerseys and hats. This new documentary from Netflix is a damned powerful and understandably mad indictment of every possible suspect in the vicinity of how one of MLB's quirkier, sometimes feared, and never boring franchises simply vanished, heading to Washington D.C. in 2005 to be rebranded as the Nationals.
Interviews with the citizens of Montreal lend a strong poignancy to this film. Fans growing up in the Andre Dawson, ace pitcher Steve Rogers (no, not the Avenger), speedster Tim Raines, and Hall Of Fame catcher Gary Carter eras pass down memorabilia and memories of the tri-colored squads to younger generations, or at least those who haven't watched their past exploits online. Preceding the Toronto Blue Jays by nearly a whole decade as Major League Baseball's first international club, the Expos limped through early franchise growing pains and middling seasons, only to turn their fortunes around with strong years in 1979 and 1980 before winning their first and only playoff series in 1981.
The heartbreaking Rick Monday home run off of Rogers during Game 5 of that year's NLCS against the Dodgers, ending Montreal's Cinderella season, is considered one of their only two best chances at a French-Canadian World Series title- but it's only briefly mentioned. That's because the film isn't really concerned so much about the stats and win/loss records as it is all of the chaos behind the boardroom doors and foolish decisions that eroded the Expos from the inside.
Mediocrity on the field, a rough local economy and high player salaries plagued the Expos in the 80s, but bright spots start to emerge- team president Claude Brochu gets some local businessmen inolved with the team, Dennis Martinez throws a perfect game against the Dodgers in a bit of revenge in 1991, and Felipe Alou is managing a monster of a 1994 team, with future Cooperstown members Pedro Martinez and Larry Walker aboard. Knock-knock: who's that? "Strike!" "Mike? Who is Mike?" "No, I'm the STRIKE! Clear out the locker room, buddy!" Yes, owner and player-union squabbling upends the Expos' fortunes again, which Brochu is powerless to stop.
Much of the blame for the team's unravelling is pointed towards the greed and big business machine of MLB's US-based executives, frequently looking down on the small-market Expos and their eccentric, mostly French-speaking fanbase. Not much care is put into nurturing the team's future prospects, falling victim to a nasty fire sale following the 1994 disappointment. The swaggering art dealer Jeffrey Loria comes into the organization with big promises, only to rip up the proposed stadium deal with long-time beer partner Labatt for a more profitable hopeful deal with Molson, which goes nowhere.
Loria's stepson David Samson speaks with the filmmakers as well, who denies having a true malicious intent for the Expos and blames Montreal as not being an adequate baseball town, but I don't think he realizes this makes him into the doc's de facto villain, especially when the coverage begins of the inevitable move of the team to the US capital. Watching the footage of disconsolate players, fans and announcers is quite a pity and a clear sign of how the Expos boosted their hometown, even if they weren't always playing the best nine.
Even with the loss of their team, Expos fans both young and old keep the torch alive, something I can totally identify with as someone still bitter about my St. Louis Rams heading back to LA after the Greatest Show On Turf days. Losing a team totally sucks, it's like a friend moving away. The Nationals do acknowledge the Expos legacy to a degree, but a devoted base in Montreal is still around who believe in the long history of baseball in that city. I'd easily recommend this doc celebrating them to both baseball and non-fans, as it also serves as a warning of who gets impacted when the people behind the pastimes we love so much are more consumed with wealth than the fanbases.
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