The thing about the Blackhawks PR team is that — most of the time — they’re a frighteningly competent bunch. Blackhawks TV consistently puts out some of the best content of any team in the league. Don’t even get me started on Joey the Junior Reporter, who is an adorable little ray of precious sunshine.
But the problem with having an on-point PR team is that we, as fans, get spoiled. We take the music videos and behind-the-scenes and game photography for granted. So when photographs like the ones from Michigan Avenue Magazine‘s recent photo shoot with supposed heartthrob Patrick Kane and definite heartthrob Patrick Sharp emerge, it’s hard to know how to react. Hurt? Disappointment? Anger?
I don’t know what to feel, Internet. I can try to love these boys through bad games and stupid penalties, but you can’t possibly ask me to love them through this level of plaid.
The Patricks have a lot in common: hockey, Chicago, a deep love of antagonizing Jonathan Toews. What’s one thing they don’t have in common? Well, I’ll tell you.
Neither one of them is an academic living in the mid-70s who has come to your middle school to tell you to Just Say No to drugs. This photograph looks like a candid that one of the teachers snapped just after Sharp looped an arm around Kane’s shoulders as he said, “Now, kids. You see Kaner here? Kaner used to smoke the dope. Now he’s cleaned up his act! And things are looking up for him, aren’t they, Kaner?”
“They sure are,” says Kaner’s mouth, but his eyes say, somebody please save me.
I wish I could, Patrick Kane. I only wish that I could.
I like this photograph. The lighting is good; the suits aren’t offensive; Patrick Sharp is present. I like that Sharp seems to be giggling about the fact that they’re arm wrestling at all, presumably because Sharp has demanded that Kane go get him a beer from the fridge and Kane has said, “No, you get me a beer,” and now they’re settling it like men.
On the other hand, Kane seems to be giggling over the fact that Sharp apparently thinks he can win this battle. He doesn’t even want a beer, he just wants to be able to gloat.
I’ve tried to come up with a scenario to explain these pants, Internet, and I can’t. I just can’t. I mean, at least it isn’t Crosby in Crocs, but at least Crocs (arguably) have practical application in the life of a hockey player. What are you getting out of these pants, Patrick Kane? Why are they so aggressively creased? Why do they cut off above the ankle? You claim to be 5’11”. It’s not hard to find men’s pants in your size.
I’m also saddened by the way Sharp’s turtleneck seems to swallow his whole neck. He looks like the camera has caught him trying to disappear into his Old Dude Dinner Jacket. Don’t hide your light under a bushel, Patrick Sharp. You have so much light to give.
I like to think that this photograph was taken in 1974, just after Patrick Kane was admitted to Some Liberal Arts College to study Poetry and the Place of Man in the Universe. Patrick Sharp is his academic mentor, who sees a deeply poetic soul lurking behind Kane’s jocular exterior.
“You play hockey?” asks Professor Sharp, shaking his head with great sadness. “That game will give you nothing. Poetry will set you free.”
“Okay, Professor S,” agrees student Kane. “Sure. Yeah. Poetry. Into it. Suuuuper into it. Do you know which bars around here don’t card? I’m asking for a friend.”