Don't even lie to yourself, you'd watch it. You'd feel a hell of a lot of shame for wasting time on mindless entertainment as the credits rolled on an unrealistic tale of a 36 year old accountant living the life-long dream of every person who has ever laced up a pair of skates post-college by getting forced into NHL action by an absurd set of circumstances, shutting the door on seven straight shooters, and becoming the one-off justification for every man that still clings to a boyhood fantasy by playing in leagues whose start times lend themselves to the fitting nightcaps of shared adult beverages. Still, you'd watch it. So, I guess the good news is that we don't have to wait for some desperate screenwriter with the bargain basement creative wherewithal to manufacture a subpar script and hire a bunch of struggling actors to make a straight-to-DVD movie that would have to jump through a few judicial hoops to boast the only appropriate title, Bad News Blackhawks. You see, Scott Foster saved the cinematic world from itself by stealing both the spotlight and a preposterous plot from a hypothetically and hokey hockey movie. We had the pleasure of watching a guy that reminds every middle-aged beer league bum of themselves get his moment of glory, and we didn't even have to feel guilty about it! Near midnight face-offs? Curtailed REM cycles? Slight hangovers and workweek aches-n-pains? Here we come, and this time it's with the reinvigoration of the previously unheard rationalization that we're not just wasting time, energy, and money on a thankless and painstaking passion! Scott Foster didn't just do the unthinkable by stepping off the street to deny the likes of Dustin Byfuglien, Paul Stastny, and Tyler Myers only to step back on it with numbers that are more flawless than any he's ever crunched highlighting his 14 minute professional career. He didn't just do the unthinkable by providing aging drinkers disguised as athletes an irrational aspiration that's slightly more commendable than slugging the entirety of a 24 pack out of a $10 trophy. He also did the unthinkable by requiring the forced and dramatized film that follows to be preceded by the most skeptism-inducing "based on a true story" in the history of Hollywood. Sidenote: The dude who works in debatably the most boring profession imaginable gave one of the most personable interviews I can remember hearing from a hockey player this year. Obviously circumstances made both the self-deprecation and the laughs easier to come by, but his now former teammates, whose work can't be done on a calculator, might want to take notes on sounding a little less calculated in every goddamn thing they say publicly.
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