Via Canada Modern

Marissa Hodgson

Sports Editor

When Youppi stepped onto the ice at the Bell Centre wearing an Expos jersey, it wasn’t just a tribute. It was a reminder. Nearly two decades after the Montreal Expos left the city, Montreal still hasn’t let go of baseball.

The moment came during a tribute following the passing of Rodger Brulotte, a longtime broadcaster and one of the most recognizable voices in Expos history. As fans watched Youppi, once the mascot of the Expos before becoming part of the Montreal Canadiens, wear the team’s colours again, it stirred something deeper than nostalgia. It raised a lingering question: what happens to a city’s sports identity when its team disappears?

In 2004, the Expos relocated to Washington, becoming the Washington Nationals. Their departure marked the end of Major League Baseball in Montreal, leaving the city without a team for the first time in over three decades. But while the franchise disappeared, baseball itself did not.

Instead, many Montreal fans redirected their attention toward the Toronto Blue Jays, now the only remaining MLB team in Canada. The shift, while gradual, became almost inevitable. With national broadcasts, consistent media coverage, and easy accessibility, the Blue Jays filled a void that had been left open.

At first glance, the choice seems contradictory. Montreal and Toronto have long been positioned as rival cities, especially in sports. The rivalry is perhaps most visible in hockey, where loyalty to the Canadiens is deeply tied to local identity. But baseball, in the absence of a hometown team, operates under different rules. Without the anchor of local allegiance, fans often turn to what is available.

For younger generations, the Blue Jays are not a replacement. They are the default. Those who grew up after 2004 never experienced the Expos firsthand. Their understanding of baseball has been shaped entirely by what they could watch, follow, and engage with. In that context, supporting Toronto becomes less about rivalry and more about exposure. The Blue Jays are simply the team that exists.

Older fans, however, carry a different relationship to the sport. For them, the Expos were more than just a franchise. They represented something distinctly Montreal: a bilingual, locally rooted team that reflected the city’s unique identity. Their departure created not only a gap in entertainment, but a loss of representation. Supporting the Blue Jays, for some, feels like adaptation rather than loyalty.

That tension between memory and practicality defines Montreal’s current baseball culture.

” It is a fan base split not necessarily by choice, but by circumstance.”

Some have embraced the Blue Jays fully. Others remain attached to a team that no longer exists. Many occupy a space somewhere in between, watching Toronto while still holding onto the past.

Moments like the tribute to Brulotte bring that complexity into focus. The reappearance of Expos symbols, even briefly, reveals how deeply the team remains embedded in Montreal’s identity. It is not just about remembering a franchise, but about preserving a sense of belonging that the team once provided.

Youppi, in particular, embodies that continuity. As a mascot who made the rare transition from baseball to hockey, he represents a living connection between eras. Seeing him in an Expos jersey again connects the present moment to a period when baseball was still part of the city’s everyday life.

These symbolic gestures matter because they remind people that the story of baseball in Montreal did not end in 2004. It evolved. The absence of a team forced fans to redefine their relationship with the sport, whether by adopting a new team, holding onto old loyalties, or balancing both.

In recent years, conversations about bringing baseball back to Montreal have resurfaced, further demonstrating that interest in the sport has not faded. If anything, it has lingered beneath the surface, sustained by memory, media, and moments of collective reflection like the tribute to Brulotte.

Montreal today exists in a unique position within Major League Baseball. It is a city without a team, yet not without a fan base. It is a place where the Blue Jays play on television screens, but where the Expos still live in memory.

And every so often, when an Expos jersey reappears, whether in a stadium, on the street, or on the ice at the Bell Centre, that memory becomes something more visible. It becomes a reminder that while the team may be gone, the identity it created is still very much alive.