Let me first say that there is absolutely nothing wrong with professional athletes letting loose, in almost any way they see fit, after putting in an extraordinary amount of effort and sacrifice prior to suffering a painstaking end to their season. Any fan that disagrees and think that players should be holed up in dark bedrooms wrapped in a thick cloak of humiliation and spending all summer sweating out their shame is an insufferable asshole. That's especially true when those players came within a couple unfortunate bounces of securing the most physically demanding trophy in all of sports. That being said, with the lone exception being any or all Stanley Cup Champions, these things can also be pretty uniformly said... A 31-year-old man dancing on top of a bar is a bad look. A 31-year-old man with a soul patch dancing on top of a bar is a worse look. A 31-year-old man with a soul patch dancing on top of a bar topless is an even worser look. A 31-year-old man with a soul patch dancing on top of a bar topless while wearing ski goggles is the worst of looks. Yet, none of things instances, in and of themselves, quite compare to a 31-year-old man with a soul patch dancing on top of a bar topless while wearing ski goggles in case of errant champagne during a celebration of second place in representation of a city that is entirely up its own ass in accepting nothing less than first. The only thing that compares to that, in terms of being objectively embarrassing, is a laughably untimely line change that played a prominent role in a team being left to tearfully watch history made on their home ice...
Again, to be very clear, Brad Marchand has every right to singlehandedly compromise the stick-up-the-ass superiority complex on Boston sports' by giving the entire internet second-hand douche chills. I just want to clarify that that is exactly what he did with a painfully cringeworthy display, fitting of a frat brother who forgot he graduated, that proved he's just as unabashedly unlikable off the ice as he is on it. Someone should call pest control because I can't be the only one whose skin legitimately crawled while watching a grown ass man so obnoxiously revel in being a runner-up.
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