(no subject)
Oh jesusfuckingchrist.
Do I really have to do everything? I'm a head coach, not a psychologist, but I think I can solve everyone's problems in about 30 seconds. Start the clock, here goes...
K-Lowe: Just shut your fucking door to them. Nothing in your contract says you have to discuss anything with moody D-men who overuse the word "fuck". The whole problem started because you couldn't just keep your goddamn mouth shut.
Gator: Boo hoo, your life sucks. You know what else sucks? I'm trying to pack for a southern road trip and my wife has packed all my golf stuff away for the season. But don't cry for me Argentina, she informs me she graciously labelled the boxes.
Staios: Wow, just when I thought you couldn't get any gayer about Jason, there you go. Too many pucks to the head. True love can not be denied. Whoopdedoo.
Horcoff: Gator doesn't even hate you. That's pretty amazing right there. I hate you, and you don't cry about that all the time. You love Brew and Brew loves you everything should be rainbows and kittens and everything fruity happy and gay for you.
Raffi: Drink up, my friend.
The big solution? Every fucking guy on the team is going to a mandatory team golf tourney on Saturday. I don't care if you suck at golf, you can be my caddy. But we're going to go, and we're going to have fun. We're going to forget the shit on ice you guys have been calling "hockey" for the last two weeks and we're going to enjoy the sun and the grass. Then we will all have one big fat Zen moment, and the world will stop spinning, and suddenly we won't suck at hockey.
Remember hockey? Yeah, it's what it's supposed to be about. Don't make me take you all to a frozen pond for a refresher in why we play. I'd rather be golfing.
Do I really have to do everything? I'm a head coach, not a psychologist, but I think I can solve everyone's problems in about 30 seconds. Start the clock, here goes...
K-Lowe: Just shut your fucking door to them. Nothing in your contract says you have to discuss anything with moody D-men who overuse the word "fuck". The whole problem started because you couldn't just keep your goddamn mouth shut.
Gator: Boo hoo, your life sucks. You know what else sucks? I'm trying to pack for a southern road trip and my wife has packed all my golf stuff away for the season. But don't cry for me Argentina, she informs me she graciously labelled the boxes.
Staios: Wow, just when I thought you couldn't get any gayer about Jason, there you go. Too many pucks to the head. True love can not be denied. Whoopdedoo.
Horcoff: Gator doesn't even hate you. That's pretty amazing right there. I hate you, and you don't cry about that all the time. You love Brew and Brew loves you everything should be rainbows and kittens and everything fruity happy and gay for you.
Raffi: Drink up, my friend.
The big solution? Every fucking guy on the team is going to a mandatory team golf tourney on Saturday. I don't care if you suck at golf, you can be my caddy. But we're going to go, and we're going to have fun. We're going to forget the shit on ice you guys have been calling "hockey" for the last two weeks and we're going to enjoy the sun and the grass. Then we will all have one big fat Zen moment, and the world will stop spinning, and suddenly we won't suck at hockey.
Remember hockey? Yeah, it's what it's supposed to be about. Don't make me take you all to a frozen pond for a refresher in why we play. I'd rather be golfing.