Look, I can't think of a situation in which I would consider it worth it to basically burn between 150-250 bucks worth of money already spent. I'm sure those 5-6 seconds of misplaced personal pride that poor bastard experienced after throwing his jersey on the ice were therapeutic. Unfortunately, seeing as the subsequent silent ride home was undoubtedly fueled by self-loathing, it's certainly not the the type of withdrawal therapy that comes prescribed by a doctor. For that reason, I can't begin to relate to that act of rebellion. Here's the thing though. I'm not supposed to be able to relate to it. Much like any other dependence on something so undeniably detrimental, it's impossible to understand the highs and lows of an addiction to the Edmonton Oilers unless you have one. Considering the boiling over of his frustrations during another regular season debacle, that was a man who is hooked on a tragedy of a team that is hazardous to his health. Let that jersey toss serve as a desperate flushing on his drugs, and the long, long look he more than likely proceeded to take at the pro shop on his way to the car serve as his almost immediate fascination with finding another fix. Diehard fandom, especially that of a woefully dysfunctional franchise, is a disease. Thinking, if even for only one second, that personal property thrown on the ice will be treated as a message to a management group that's turned the transformative talents of Connor McDavid into nothing more than their circus' main attraction instead of merely a future merchandise sale is one of its most obvious symptoms. So before you go judging the childish antics of a grown man who was probably about 12 steps away from regret, try putting yourself in his shoes. I'd suggest holding your nose, because they have been stepping in the same pile of shit for about a decade now.
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