(if you’re reading this, and you’re a lawyer, stop now. This is FARCE. I realize you’re seeing dollar sings right now, but there are none)
The picture above is a collection of closely related tragic stories, tales of woe linking back to one main perpetrator, who, being of dubious distinction and having the financial means to save his on hide, was never brought to justice, thus denying all these young men due happiness and prosperity in their individual lives.
That perpetrator, of course, is Trevor Kidd. The Book of Loob is determined, nay, charged with a mission from God, to bring Trevor Kidd to justice and pay penance to the lives of the many he so underhandedly destroyed.
But first, let’s recount the beleaguered plight of some of the victims. The picture above is a collective photograph of the plucky young adolescents who attended the 1996 Trevor Kidd goaltending school. The parents of these boys willingly doled out hundreds of dollars for their gifted youngsters, future Martin Brodeurs or at the very least Martin Birons, to one Mr. Trevor Kidd to hone the talents of the masked and padded youth, oblivious to the later very apparent truth that Mr. Kidd had no fucking clue what it meant to be a goaltender. The shocking revelation that Mr. Kidd was not a goaltender, but a mere fraud, arrived far after it was too late to salvage the talents of these boys, and the collateral damage for a generation of goaltenders was to be forever eschewed upon their backs.
This dopey young lad is yours truly, the
brains sloth-like drivel behind The Book of Loob. Look, I know, okay? It was the mid 90′s. A year or two down the road I cut my hair. I still looked weird. Deal with it, I have self esteem issues. Issues affixed upon me after my experience with Trevor Kidd. I, as a healthy, strapping, agile young 13 year old boy toiling away in the depths of the Cochrane Minor Hockey system, two things were very apparent to those who witnessed my game:
- I was blessed with the raw talent and physical tools to be a standout NHL goaltender, a perennial all-star who would steal a playoff series for any otherwise unequipped team, leading the ragtag group of crowd favourites to certain championship glory.
- Bowl cuts are hilarious
Enter Trevor Kidd.
In an effort to take my surely outstanding play to the next level, I took my pads, my heart, and an open mind to a week long summer goaltending camp taught by then Calgary Flames keeper, Trevor Kidd. Thinking the tutelage of a professional could only help elevate my play, I, as many other goaltenders and their parents, blindly neglected the fact that this particular NHL backstop was part of a fraternity of goaltenders known as “The ones that played in the 90s”, who are now infamous for allowing pucks through their legs despite an astonishingly excessive amount of equipment to prevent it.
The results were devastating. My game was irreparably damaged, sullied by the lessons of a man whose only real pearls of wisdom was to convincingly shrug in front of a scrum of cameras and convince them that, as a team sport, the loss of that particular game was not entirely Trevor Kidd’s fault. He never even taught you how to use your own name in that situation. He was so preconditioned to refer to himself. It hardly even seemed like a lesson, as much a war flashback.
Needless to say, my game, now fully Kidd inspired, devolved to new lows, and the motion of turning around to sweep a puck out from the depths of that 4×6 cage became so commonplace it was like a reflex. I was ruined. The next 15 years was a series of non-NHL goaltending heartbreaks, thus ending in the world being subjected to a half hearted and barely there Calgary Flames related blog. The world mourns, as it hates The Book of Loob.
This, as I’m sure any Calgary Flames fan or potential pedophile can attest to, is a young, hopeful, immeasurably talented Curtis McElhinney. Much like myself, as a promising youngster, Mac was a goaltending prodigy. He had it all. Mental toughness, unheralded vision, quickness and reflexes that would make most jungle cats blanch, McElhinney was set to revolutionize the way the position was played. He would have been the Messiah of goaltenders. He would make Martin Brodeur’s best performances look hackneyed and underwhelming, more akin to the style of play of whoever the fuck backed up Martin Brodeur through the first half of his career. Chris Terreri or some shit.
Point is, he was pretty damn good. The best. And he too, unassumingly, fell prey to the Kidd. The Trevor Kidd goaltending school, if we want to still call it that, got its grasp of Curtis as well, and maliciously and fervently dismantled him, re-assembling him in the only mould Trevor Kidd knew how: rife with mediocrity.
While the raw power and skill of Curtis McElhinney was just too strong to ruin him completely, NO ONE has the fortitude to fully recover from such a ruthless and invasive inner re-tooling designed to take away your ability to play the angles properly and track pucks lobbed ever so lightly from the point. While it’s true that Curtis McElhinney was indeed able to make it to the NHL, it was not in the role he was destined to take; Nay, he was not the second coming of Goalie Christ, instead he was Curtis McElhinney: ah Christ, we’re paying this guy?
You’ve all seen it. No team playing in front of Mac has ever shown due faith in him, and rightly so, as he has spent his career fighting for starts, begging for wins, and, mostly, floundering. After a few seasons riding the pine in Calgary, his hometown and the sight of his destruction, McElhinney has bounced around the league, currently plying his trade in Who The Fuck Knows Where, America. A life not lost, but at what cost?
Really makes you think.
I have no idea who this sorta mullety, too young to be Dwayne Roloson but looks like he could be young Dwayne Roloson is, and neither do you. And nor should you, as he’s probably a janitor in a soiled diaper warehouse in Des Moines, Iowa, where I assume such a facility exists. But you can thank Trevor Kidd for that. This kid was the next Patrick Roy, probably.
Trevor Kidd takes down another one. Probably.
The list goes on and on. This wanton destruction of potential was so callously carried out over the course of a mere week, an efficiency in evil unmatched by just about any other strategic offensive. But it doesn’t end with the somber biographies of these young men. The path of Trevor Kidd’s unbridled lust for damage cuts a much wider swath, and most certainly affects you.
For example, as mentioned, the demise of my own potentially great career has led me to this very moment, the moment I write this blog. If you’re reading this, there’s a very good chance you’re getting dumber, as this blog is tripe, and you unwillingly entered in to a contract with the merchants of brain rot when you clicked this link. That’s not on you. That’s on Trevor Kidd.
Furthermore, if you’re a Calgary Flames fan, and as a reader of this blog, there’s at least a, I don’t know, 3% chance that you are, and you happened to witness Trevor Kidd let in softies during his time in the Flaming C, you’ve undoubtedly suffered a great deal of mental trauma, which never really goes away. It sticks with you, and is triggered in dark times, like now with the current state of the Flames. We didn’t let Trevor Kidd do this to us, no; he earned it. He worked hard for our misery.
And we can’t let him get away with it. You have been ruined by Trevor Kidd, don’t you deserve some kind of compensation? There’s help. Either in the comments section below, or on the Book of Loob Facebook Page, tell us, noble reader, how Trevor Kidd shattered your dreams or tilted the balance in your life to the negative. There’s no need to hide anymore. Remember, it’s not your fault. We need you in the fight against Trevor Kidd. United, we can bring down one of history’s most tyrannical monsters. We can win.
Your story will be collected and displayed right here on the Book of Loob, as countless exhibits in the case against the Kidd. Come forth, brothers and sisters, your time is now. We WILL get our justice.
Er…assuming we do find out wherever the fuck it is Trevor Kidd is these days.
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