The Broken Back that Broke the Camel’s Back

by Ryan

I stuck up for you.

So many times I wanted to throw it all away and just move on, but I kept coming back. The warning signs were all there, but just like every bad habit I refused to admit there was a problem.

You, Tim Connolly, are a problem.

After every concussion, every ridiculous injury and stress fracture. Every bone chip and bruise. After all the little injuries that kept you out for weeks at a time, I thought you were past all that. This was the season you were going to stay healthy, because if you didn’t, well, you aren’t going to be on this team anymore.

Then you went and broke your back.

Sure, I know a hairline fracture is much different than a break, but ordinary hockey players don’t break their freaking vertebrae in training camp. A broken back is the perfect metaphor for what’s going on here, because this is the last straw, Timmy. I’m done with you.

Do you know the lengths I’ve gone to keep you around here? All the things I’ve had to ignore just to hold out hope, the hope you tore away from me with your brittle bones. I mean, I wrote an entire post saying you would make the leap this year, and set up a vote that you were winning right before this disaster.

Let me ask you something, Tim, do you even know what milk is? Calcium and whatnot. Do you know what vitamins look like? Have you ever been to a GNC? Apparently you have the bones of a 68-year-old bedridden woman, so you may want to look into that stuff.

What do you eat anyway? Aside from jello shots and booze, do you eat any solid foods? I know light beer and Jager is the key to eternal life, but you may want to grab a sandwich before you go head out on the strip. Make sure to bring your back brace too.

Out of all the underwhelming prospects we have had, you are by far the most frustrating. It’s sad, really, but I’ll never support you again. I’ll never marvel at your stickhandling, your creativity, or your perfect shaved head. I have zero expectations for you, and I don’t care if you play at all this year. We all guessed how many games you would play this year. My first answer was 80, but expect a much different number on Monday.

Sure, you could overcome this and be a big time player. Whatever, I’ve played this game too many times to get sucked in again. Score 70 points, Tim Connolly, then we will talk about liking you again. 70 points, that’s my threshold for admitting that you exist.

Good luck, becase I have no idea how you are going to do it in thirteen games.


  1. TheTick

    BWAHAHA, I’d never seen that picture. What a head of hair. Is that a wig? /falls over laughing

  2. Anonymous

    hey his back may be broken but his dick isn’t. bar hopping, hair hopping loser.