What a Terrible Night

(BOD - Megan Fox)

Where do I begin to discuss the desultory results from the sports world last night?

Luckily, I wasn’t forced to witness these travesties firsthand as I was otherwise engaged for the majority of the night. I supposed to attend a practice with the minor baseball team I am helping coach, but it was cancelled due to rain.

Instead, it was deemed we would have a ‘coaches meeting’ to discuss the season so far and plan out the rest of summer schedule. This pretty much involved immature behaviour and the consumption of adult beverages at the house of a coach whose wife is away for the week. Needless to say, it was a good time.

However, throughout the meeting, we received periodic updates on both the Jays game and Game 6 of the Stanley Cup Finals.

It was a matchup of aces as Shaun Marcum squared off against David Price in the second game of their series at Tropicana Field. Price dominated Toronto, with less than stellar stuff, and the Rays hitters lit Marcum up.

In the last two games, the Blue Jays have been outscored 19-1. Apparently, I may have been off on my prediction of a Toronto collapse by a series. I assumed they would get destroyed by the Yankees, but instead they waited until they were outside of the comfy confines of the Rogers Centre to start their late spring swoon.

The Jays are D-U-N. Done. The vaunted offence has gone silent thus far in June and more games against the AL East and the National League will only exacerbate the discrepancy between the Haves in MLB and the Toronto Have-nots.

The Chicago Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup last night. I’m happy for the city of Chicago as they won their first Cup since 1961 breaking the NHL’s longest drought (which now belongs to the Toronto Maple Leafs, which brings me great joy).

But that happiness is jaded considerably with the sickening news that Patrick Kane scored the winning goal in overtime. Are you kidding me?

I’m a big believer in karma, so I don’t understand how that little twerp can make such reprehensible decisions last summer and be a Stanley Cup champion a year later. It makes me sick to my stomach.

I’m not going to let Kane enjoy this moment so let’s take a journey down memory lane to see what I’ve said about one of the biggest pussies in professional sports:

Here are my initial thoughts on his cab driver skirmish where he punched an elderly cab driver because the cabbie wouldn’t give him a dollar and twenty cents change. You all really need to read it in its entirety. I’m at my acerbic best. Here’s a quick excerpt (it was so hard to choose one):

But Patrick Kane couldn’t try to start something with someone his own age. First, that would require him to not be a huge pussy, which, evidently, is asking a lot. No, he had to pick on an elderly cab driver. Did he start something with this cab driver one on one?

Of course not. He needed the help of his cousin to choke and punch the poor guy because of a fare dispute. Fighting mano a mano, even against a senior citizen, necessitates at least an ounce of testosterone flowing through one’s veins. Obviously little Patty doesn’t have any of that in his system; if he did, then he would probably be able to grow facial hair and weigh more than 150lbs.

Here’s more Kane bashing (scroll down) and some more (scroll down). Lastly, there’s this (scroll to the end).

And an anecdote to really make this column pop. At the Ontario Senior baseball championships in London last year, I saw Patrick Kane and some of his loser friends try to skip the line at a bar (Kane played junior hockey in London). The bouncers wouldn’t let him in for two reasons. He was way too drunk and he had cocaine residue all over his suit jacket.

There have been rumours of similar behaviour from Kane for months. Patrick Kane – bully, punk, and scrawny, cocaine-fuelled jackass.

A real class act.