Finally, the confirmation we’ve been waiting for. The mea culpa was found in today’s Globe and Mail:
“It’s been a real tough year,” Tucker said. “I can’t think back to when in a longer period of time I have struggled to produce.”
He goes on but I wouldn’t bother. (It’s the Globe, after all.) All you need to know is that he’s averaging around 15 pathetic minutes a night, not sleeping so well in his Star Wars sheets, and potted 12 goals all season. He also has a no-trade clause and is 25 percent of the way through a four-year, $12 million deal. (Good luck, Cliff. )
The only way Tucker could suck any more is if he turns his season around (unlikely) and keeps his team out of the basement. This would fuck them out of the number one draft spot, who will surely be Steve Stamkos. (Click that link and commence soiling yourself.)
So we’ll see. Tucker’s role is to be a pain in the ass. The best thing he could do for his team would be sustain a injury and stop playing. Or just fake one.