An Open Letter to “That Guy”

 
(“That Guy” pictured above)

Dear That Guy, 

The other day when I was relaxing with my newspaper and non-fat vanilla latte, I did not appreciate your boisterous rant about the Oilers. By all means discuss sports wherever you like, but you should know that Second Cup is a coffee shop not a sports bar. They serve coffee not beer. The majority of people go there to visit with friends or to listen to Joni Mitchell dancing out of the speakers teaching us all how to feel (thanks Joni).

I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you suffer from Van Horton’s Syndrome. I will not, however, ignore the subject of your rant. In one breath you claimed to be the Oil’s number-one fan and then proceeded to crap on their entire legacy.

So, you think you would be a better coach than MacT? Judging by your Hyper-Colour T-shirt and Guess Jeans, I might have to disagree.

I have news for you “That Guy”; you are the WORST kind of fan. You’re with them when they’re winning. You’re there when they do a victory lap. You’re even there when a heartbreaking trade happens and cry in the arms of your dearest and closest drinking buddies. But when the going gets tough you get going. You make me wanna puke.

Regardless if our boys make it (I think they still have a chance), they’ve had a surprising season. All things considered—trades, injuries, new ownership—I think they’ve done a damn fine job. I’m proud of them. I have all the hope and faith in the world for this team.

For you on the other hand, I have complete disdain. I know that you think you deserve to make the kind of coin NHL players bring in. After all, you do have to wake up day after day at the crack of noon and decide what T-shirt you’re going to wear. But these guys work hard. They play hard. They take the criticism of people like you with a grain of salt.

Do me a favour: next time you open your mouth in a public forum stop and ask yourself “Who gives a rat’s ass what I have to say?” I think you’ll find the answer is nobody. Not even the barista at Second freakin’ Cup.

Yours truly,
Amber

PS: In the future when you leave your house, try combing your hair with a comb not a pork chop.