evil twink mentality

And obviously the horse is a beast on the ice, even more so under Tortorella’s rigorous coaching. I mean, can you imagine this thing on a breakaway?? Except he’s not the hard-hitting, physical brute that everyone in the league assumes he is. He’s sensitive. He’s patient. He’s got high hockey IQ and beautiful edge work. But the refs only see his size and his (ahem) pedigree, and the horse just keeps racking up the penalty minutes. Teams are starting to get worried he’s a liability, and Tortorella’s ever growing presence as the horse’s coach/agent/father is NOT helping.

In a pivotal game against their divisional rival, the horse gets a five minute major for boarding, and Torts is on the ice before he even registers his body moving, screaming at the refs that “it was clean hit! It’s not his fault he’s 17 hands high!!” But then he feels something on his waist. A hoof, somehow fitted with a hockey skate blade, pulls him back into the penalty box, and the horse whinnies softly until Torts stops his tirade and sits down, pacified. The entire arena looks on, dead silent, as Torts starts reflexively smoothing his fingers through the horse’s beautiful mane, the way he used to every night when the horse was still too young and afraid to leave his side.

by Wisława Szymborska tr. Joanna Trzeciak

Out of every hundred people

those who always know better: fifty-two.

Unsure of every step: almost all the rest.

Ready to help, if it doesn't take long: forty-nine.

Always good, because they cannot be otherwise: four — well, maybe five.

Able to admire without envy: eighteen.

Led to error by youth (which passes): sixty, plus or minus.

Those not to be messed with: forty and four.

Living in constant fear of someone or something: seventy-seven.

Capable of happiness: twenty-some-odd at most.

Harmless alone, turning savage in crowds: more than half, for sure.

Cruel when forced by circumstances: it's better not to know, not even approximately.

Wise in hindsight: not many more than wise in foresight.

Getting nothing out of life except things: thirty (though I would like to be wrong).

Doubled over in pain and without a flashlight in the dark: eighty-three, sooner or later.

Those who are just: quite a few at thirty-five.

But if it takes effort to understand: three.

Worthy of empathy: ninety-nine.