Brendan Gallagher, the heart and soul of the Montreal Canadiens for more than a decade, is now at the center of a malaise that is starting to become difficult to ignore.
On the ice, his performances are no longer what they used to be. In the locker room, his aura as a respected warrior seems to weigh heavily on his teammates.
Last night against the Chicago Blackhawks, that unease reached a critical point.
Gallagher, inserted on the second power play unit, was responsible for three consecutive missed zone entries.
Each time, he lost the puck, leaving the Blackhawks to counterattack without resistance.
And yet, when Gally returned to the bench after these errors, silence reigned.
Nobody said anything. Not a word. Not a glance. Because it’s Gally.
This silent respect for everything he has contributed in the past is understandable. But how harmful does it become for the team?
Gallagher is a veteran who gave everything for the CH. He played injured, sacrificed his body and scored important goals.
But today it is clear that he can no longer keep up with the pace of the National League.
At five on five, he is behind on every play. And on the power play, he is no longer a threat.
Yet he is still sent into crucial situations, as if it is hoped that he will miraculously return to his former form.
Over the last 19 games, Gallagher has scored just two goals and five assists. For a player who earns 6.5 million per season, that’s far from enough.
And this is where the discomfort takes root. Young players like Nick Suzuki and Cole Caufield, who should be tomorrow’s leaders, find themselves having to deal with Gallagher’s shadow.
How can they fully assert themselves when the team still seems paralyzed by the presence of a veteran who can no longer deliver the goods?
In the locker room, the admiration for Gallagher is evident. All the players respect him. Everyone praises his work ethic, his positive attitude and his dedication to the team.
But this respect is also a prison. When Gallagher commits a turnover or slows the team down on the ice, no one dares confront him. Because it’s Gally.
And therein lies the real problem.
Last night, this discomfort was evident. Every time Gallagher lost a puck battle or missed a pass, no one wanted to be the one to break the silence.
But at what point does this silence become unbearable? At what point should someone have the courage to say what everyone is thinking: that Gallagher is no longer a shadow of his former self and that his presence on the ice hurts more than it helps?
The problem goes beyond just on-ice performance. This is an unhealthy team dynamic, where respect for a legendary player prevents the organization from making difficult but necessary decisions.
Martin St-Louis, although known for his frankness and his ability to challenge his players, also seems to hesitate to confront reality. But how much longer can this last?
Gallagher was a warrior. He embodied everything a hockey player should be.
But today he has become a burden. Not just on the ice, but in the locker room. This exaggerated respect for his past is starting to cost the team dearly.
And if no one has the courage to break this vicious circle, the unease will only grow.
As the Canadiens struggle to stay competitive in an increasingly fast-paced and demanding league, making tough decisions is crucial.
Gallagher deserves better than to end his career in an ambiguous role as a respected but ineffective veteran. And the team deserves better than to be paralyzed by this persistent malaise.
It is time for the organization to face reality. For the good of the team, for the good of the young players who must take over, and for the good of Gallagher himself.
Because discomfort cannot last forever. At some point, someone will have to say what everyone is thinking.
Because to prolong this situation is to disrespect not only the team, but everything Gallagher has accomplished for this franchise.
Amen
