Two Minutes Hate: Tim Erixon

 

 

Dear Mr. Erixon,

Go to hell.

Why? That’s not clear? I guess I can explain.

You were something special. You were a blue chip prospect: you played 20 minutes a night in the SEL playoffs, scored points left and right, could skate and stay mobile, prevented plays before they even developed, and I even gave you the 2nd Annual Kris Chucko Trophy.

And then you refused to sign.

Okay, it wasn’t just that you refused to sign. The reasons made sense – Calgary didn’t have the greatest track record of giving young guys the opportunity to succeed, and I’m sure the idea of possibly being the best player on the team in a few years was a little depressing. No, that wasn’t it.

You are entitled to a free room in hell (HBO not included and yes the swimming pool is closed because some kid pooped in it) because you put on a pair of steel toed boots and took aim at the crotch area of the Calgary Flames repeatedly. It doesn’t matter what gender this personification of a sports team is – you did plenty of damage to the soft, tender bits either way.

So how did you manage this feat?

It started by showing up at development camps, saying all the right things. You kept it up by being pretty good in the SEL- playing some decent two-way hockey against men. Sure, you didn’t sign during the first offseason, but that’s okay. The next season rolled around and you were amazing. You were incredible. I wrote weekly updates of your TOI, points, shots, hits, PIMS. You genuinely got Flames fans excited about a Calgary drafted prospect – something that hadn’t happened since everyone thought the Albertosaurus would grow up into a T-Rex (though it didn’t take long for someone even more exciting to emerge).

Then your season ended and we waited for you to sign a contract. And waited. It wasn’t until the last two days of the signing deadline that you "decided" you didn’t feel comfortable signing with the Flames. Of course, this was all a mirage.

It was dirty: you played the Flames. You pushed for more time and more time until the club had no choice but to trade you to whoever you wanted them to trade you to, almost regardless of the return. You earn this hatred not out of bumbling incompetence like Doug Risebrough, but out of selfish actions that were meant to exclusively benefit yourself regardless of how they affected the team that drafted you and put time into your development.

The "Why" doesn’t matter with this, Mr. Erixon. It’s the how. You couldn’t simply ask, in a timely manner, for your rights to be traded elsewhere. You couldn’t express that you didn’t feel like Calgary was the best fit for you. No – you blueballed the Flames until they were picking up the soap in the locker room and had your way with them.

For stealing our collective Calgary Flames heart and then squatting over it to take a rather large sh**, sir, you have earned our hate.

Regards and enjoy Columbus,

Arik