A Completely True And Not Made Up Interview With Barry Brust

 

Barry Brust, is not, officially, property of the Calgary Flames (Jay Feaster is not the boss of Barry Brust), which would even more officially make this NOT Calgary Flames related, but seeing as the majority of Flames property is either wearing a Winsport jersey playing against your Cousin Clete in Wednesday Night Men’s League, or injuring themselves in Europe, or Leland Irving, right now Barry Brust is not only more interesting, he’s playing more than most of your Calgary Flames, so stifle.

The one bittersweet thing about this lockout for me IS Barry Brust. I had no idea he was my second favourite player ever (you’ll always be numero uno in my heart, Blair Jones) until the work stoppage forced me to pay attention to Abbotsford and their new arena and WAY better beer sponsorship.  

Mister Brust has been a revelation to me, not because he shutout the Marlies last night and beat the Wolves two weeks ago (The Leafs and Canucks respective farm squads, thus making them THE entities in need of my full capacity for hatred). Not because he’s only allowed 1 goal in 2 games since joining Abby, making 48 key saves in those games. Not for his sick pads. Not because he has an alliterative name.

No, I’m on the Barry Brust bandwagon because Barry Brust is way out of his goddamn mind.

(That last sentence may have been wild speculation on the part of the author, but we’re going with it because we can)

So that’s why I was mildly surprised when, upon asking Barry for an exclusive interview (which I never did), that he gave us his full blessing to do so (he didn’t), and that he invited me over to play video games and be best friends who go on adventures together and share snacks (100% true).

So the following is the transcript of that interview I can’t stress enough that Barry never gave us. It’s pretty eye opening, and I think it’ll expose you to a side of Barry Brust you didn’t know or ever knew you wanted to know existed.

BB: It’s my pleasure. Make yourself at home (throws arms behind his head to signal that everything in the room is his, but I’m free to use it)

BB: Sorry, I wasn’t listening, I was busy using their lighting fast free wifi while drinking a coffee and reading this informative edition of Metro I found on the floor. Feels like home to me, doesn’t it?

BB: …

BoL: …

BB:  Haha! Terrific!  Let’s eat!

BB: Well, it gets exhausting sometimes. When I started out in junior, I was in Spokane for four seasons before I got traded to Calgary. It was consistent. I thought my whole career was going to be that way. But since that trade, I’ve played for nine different teams, lived in nine cities, in nine seasons. It gets tough, it drains you a bit. Your brain changes. They don’t tell you that, but it does.

They say you start to go crazy. That you hallucinate. That everyone you’ve ever known or loved become husks of the pillars of support they once were, now demented dopplegangers of themselves whose only motive is to needle at your spine and crush your heart, telling you you can’t do it, that you’re a worthless bum living out a childish fantasy that will never bare any fruit, and that constant barrage of negative reinforcement and doubt eats and eats and eats at your soul until your vision is blurry and the only thing that stops you from eliminating them like the ignoble vermin they are is them watching you, helplessly as your success is simultaneously the thing that guarantees their trivial demise while you celebrate with a twisted grin and torturous cackle and…

But not me though! I’ve managed to avoid the pitfalls of travelling from town to town the way that I do. I’ve stayed sane, stayed sharp, even though the crease can be a lonely place. It’s a matter of staying positive. I like to play games with myself. That keeps me motivated.

BB: I bring my PSP with me when we travel. Bus rides are long, but I play a lot of Mortal Kombat. There’s a lot of Mortal Kombat in me. Like I’ll pull off a sweet finisher in the game, and I’ll think "Man, I should incorporate ripping someone’s head off and throwing it at their still alive decapitated head into my game on the ice". So that’s what I do. It’s not always technically sound, but I think the fans get a kick out of it.

Or sometimes, I’ll count the cars that pass our bus. And then every blue car that passes, I’ll melt the driver’s face with my mind. I don’t know him from Adam, but I hate him so much that I have to harness all the power granted to me by that leprechaun centaur and just eradicate him before his negative energy seeps into my game.

You know, just fun little things like that. It really takes your mind off the game and allows you to recharge. It’s a long season, so if you get too caught up with hockey, it’ll really wear you out, and I try not to let that happen.

BB: Oh yeah. It’s really their own fault for driving a blue car. I mean, way to tempt the wrath of the Gods of Norrath. Come on buddy, you should know better.

BB: Blood.

BB: Oh yeah, blood.  Blood really gets me going. I like seeing it. Making people bleed. I usually drink blood two or three times a day. It’s like Chicken Soup for the Soul. Except instead of Chicken Soup, it’s blood.

BB: …

BB: Safety Dance by Men Without Hats, for sure. But only when it sounds like Manfred Mann’s Guided By The Light. That’s the only time it’s good and that’s 100% fact.

(Barry Brust proceeds to Superman dive out of his chair and clothesline this intrepid young interviewer in the throat)

BB: B positive? I would have definitely taken you for Type O. I had a craving for Type O.

BB: If you haven’t seen Leland Irving around lately, it’s because he’s gone on vacation. A nice, long, warm vacation. In my insulated attic. He’s having the time of his life, so we probably won’t see him anytime soon. I hear Danny Taylor is thinking about popping in to say hi someday REALLY SOON.