When our dear and departed Ron Hextall passed away (or got fired, whichever), the forces that be made it very clear why this had to happen to him: he was too patient. This patience was perceived as weakness, or hesitance to do what needed to be done to make the Philadelphia Flyers good (not bad). Paul Holmgren didn’t want the Flyers to be good in three years—he thought they could compete now, if they were aggressive enough. They call these things ‘artistic differences.’
So Hextall gets canned, and the guys up top bring in Chuck Fletcher, who is a guy that exists in the hockey world that I am vaguely aware of. The message was signed, sealed, delivered: do something. Do anything. Make some moves. Spend some cash. Go the fuck off, and do it now, or I swear to God—
This is going to be an interesting offseason. I don’t know if it’s fun yet. That is, I believe, something that we will discover in due time.
A few things have been made obvious: Fletcher is looking for a veteran defenseman to help out the young guys on the blue line, he’s in the market for a forward to amplify the team’s general offensive power, and he wants an experienced goaltender in tandem with Carter Hart, who is but a baby.
The world is our oyster. We’ve got the cap space and we’ve got a guy who has basically been commanded to go hogwild. Who does he have his sights on?
Most importantly, who do I have my sights set on?
Let’s be frank here: I am probably the most important person in my life, if not also your lives, or at least my cat’s. How much do I actually care about what “Chuck” “Fletcher” wants to do? Sure, he’s the one making the real-life decisions that affect the team I actively root for, but what about my hypothetical, fantasy-world decisions? Isn’t that just as vital, if not more so?
I want Connor McDavid, and I want him for the two slices of pizza that were left sitting out overnight in the box, and you didn’t put them in the fridge because you forgot, and you’re kind of wondering if they’re okay to eat anyway. I want Nikita Kucherov and I will give you Justin Bailey for him. One-for-one. I want your superstars and I will give you absolutely nothing in return. That’s the game I’m all-in for, and it’s the one you signed up for. Bask in this.
I’m only half-serious about these things. I usually put the pizza in the fridge.
This series, hopefully covering a good chunk of league, will essentially consist of me asking other bloggers for their star players, and them saying no. This will be fun for you to watch. Or it won’t be. I can’t make promises on these things. What I can promise you is that I make myself laugh, and isn’t that enough?
For the first installment, I gave my good friend Sie Morley over at Fear The Fin a call to talk about the San Jose Sharks as a potential trade partner. We discussed how we’re not getting Erik Karlsson (even though I want him), we could possibly get Joe Pavelski (because he is a ginger), and somehow Robert Hagg isn’t good enough for a one-for-one trade for Brent Burns. Other topics include: Alex Lyon loves his mom, Michael Raffl is beautiful, and Logan Couture should replace his weird teeth with better ones.
Don’t make fun of my laugh. It’s actually cute, and endearing, many people have said this. Thank you.
