In the past few days, I have noticed that there is a small, vocal minority of Blackhawks fans who have suggested trading Patrick Kane.
He’s too small, they say. He’s not physically aggressive enough. Too soft to handle playoff hockey. So, of course, he should be shipped off to the highest bidder, goes their unbelievably mind-numbing argument.
Now, while I was more than willing to ignore these complaints entirely because the people making them are certifiable — I cannot sit by and listen to these morons anymore. So, taking my cue from HOCKEENIGHT, I got something to help me get my point across.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is Bill.
Bill (a trout) has given up his life not to be a pet or someone’s dinner — but to be a weapon.
A weapon of fishy destruction.
First, let’s go over the facts of why Patrick Kane should not be traded:
- Kane averaged a point per game during the regular season — that would be 73 points in 73 games, if you’re keeping score.
- He also had 6 points in 7 playoff games this year.
- During the course of the 38 playoff games he’s been in, he has 42 points. These are not the numbers of someone too “soft” for playoff hockey, folks.
Now, unless you live in Bizarro World where these kinds of players are grown on trees or whatever — Kane’s numbers alone provide enough proof that he is too valuable to the Blackhawks to send away.
But meatheads don’t know numbers. They just see a short, (relatively) skinny kid who possibly drinks too much in his off time, and they immediately declare him to be the problem.
That’s where Bill comes in.
See, every time someone makes the argument that Kane should be traded, they get to meet Bill.
With their face.
Kind of like this commercial from the Boston Bruins:
Yes, every time you try to say that we should trade Patrick Kane, I will get in my car, drive to your house, knock on your door, and slap the everliving bejeezus out of you with a trout.
A trout named Bill.
Now, while you may think this might just temporarily sting a little, just know this: Bill is sitting outside right now, and has been for almost two weeks. That means you’d be slapped with a two weeks’ dead fish. The smell is unpleasant, to say the least, and will take you a while to get out of your hair — and even longer to get out of your mind.
The longer this arugment plays out — the longer Bill will be sitting outside.
Think about it.