Ladies and gentlemen, gather around, because the one and only Mr. Anonymous is back! It’s been a few years since his last appearance, and let’s just say he’s got plenty of pent-up material to unload. From the seasoned veterans still clinging to their glory days, to the fresh-faced newcomers stumbling out of the gate, no one is safe. The league has changed, the drama has evolved, and the bad decisions have only multiplied.

Whether it’s inflated egos, catastrophic trades, or the ever-hilarious mishandling of cap space, Mr. Anonymous is here to remind everyone that no one is above the roast. Old rivalries, new failures, and the same old excuses—strap in, BRHL, because the roast is about to begin, and it’s going to burn hotter than Sumit’s trade negotiations!. Happy Festivus you jerks!.


Sumit - World traveler, selfie enthusiast, and the self-proclaimed Hockey Manager of the Century (in his dreams). You're out here flying around the globe like you're the next Anthony Bourdain, but the only thing you’re serving up is bad takes and worse trades. Those selfies? We know it's not your "girlfriend" taking them, Sumit. The only thing you're committed to is the front-facing camera. Let’s talk hockey. Owning a team doesn’t make you Scotty Bowman, buddy. Signing those off-season busts was like shopping blindfolded in the discount bin—and then bragging about it! The players you signed couldn't hit an empty net if they were standing in it. Meanwhile, you're puffing your chest out like you're running the New England Patriots of hockey. Reality check: your squad’s performance makes the term "power play" sound ironic. Maybe focus less on the banter and more on fixing your dumpster-fire roster. Or is that too much to ask of the self-anointed King of Hockey Mismanagement?.

Rex - The midnight cowboy of hockey mismanagement and political rants. When he's not milking cows or riding horses like he’s auditioning for a low-budget Western, he’s drafting enough goalies to start his own farm league. Rex, buddy, newsflash: you can’t win games with a starting lineup of only goalies. The strategy is so broken it’s almost admirable—until you remember you lost Kent Johnson for free. Free, Rex. That’s not just bad management; that’s a new level of incompetence. You’re out here trying to trade goalies like they’re Pokémon cards, expecting to land a McDavid, but all you’re getting is a couple of fourth-liners and a bag of pucks. If hockey management was your farm, it’d be condemned for neglect. But wait—there’s more! After the games, when the cows are asleep and the beers are flowing, it’s time for the Rex Shuck Midnight Liberal Hate Hour! Your slurred, incoherent rants are less "insightful political commentary" and more "what happens when a Budweiser gets access to the internet." You’re offending everyone, Rex—including grammar. So, while you're busy yelling at the moon and tanking your hockey team, maybe consider this: the cows respect you more than your players ever will. Keep living that rodeo life, Rex—you’re the clown everyone came to see.

Anthony - The master mixologist who’s far better at pouring drinks than pouring effort into running a hockey team. You might own a bar, but the only thing getting served in the BRHL is your team’s dignity—on a silver platter. Between your Flyers-loving bias, your baffling trades, and your salary cap management that makes Monopoly money look like a sound financial plan, it’s no wonder your team is the league’s favorite punchline. Let’s talk about those "Flyer-inspired" moves of yours. Anthony, this isn’t Broad Street Bullies nostalgia hour. Your loyalty to mediocrity has your team circling the drain faster than a cheap beer special. What about the future of your team? It’s as empty as your bar at closing time. So, Anthony, stick to what you’re good at: pouring drinks and and finishing them. Leave hockey management to someone who knows what they’re doing—or at least someone who knows the difference between cap space and "capicola."

Doc - The esteemed doctor of hockey—because clearly, his medical degree didn’t come with a course on managing a hockey team. Sure, the BRHL managers respect you, Doc, but that’s mostly because they’re too polite to call out your dumpster-fire trade blocks filled with players who should be flipping burgers, not skating on ice. Yet somehow, you think you’re going to get a king’s ransom for these guys? The delusion is stronger than a placebo effect, Doc. You hype your prospects up like they’re the second coming of Gretzky, only for them to turn into fourth-line grinders at best. Maybe instead of playing the long game with prospects, you should focus on building a team that doesn’t require a miracle—or divine intervention—to win a game. So while you might be a hero in the operating room, on the ice, Doc, you’re just a glorified bottom feeder. Keep grinding out those one-sided trades and living in your prospect fantasy land—we’ll all just sit back and enjoy one half of the Hansford gremlins comedy show. WOOOO!

Dan - The reigning BRHL champ—congrats on your shiny trophy! Too bad it came with an expiration date as short as your team’s future. You mortgaged the farm, the barn, and the family cow for that championship, and now you’re left holding a roster that looks more like a retirement home than a contender. Let’s talk about all that retained salary magic you pulled off last season. It was impressive, sure, but now your cap space is tighter than your prospects’ chances of making the NHL. Speaking of prospects, your pipeline is drier than a desert—good luck rebuilding a team with what’s essentially a glorified beer league roster waiting in the wings. And hey, when the inevitable collapse happens, there’s always Steph to lean on, right? Maybe you can force him out of retirement and bring some respect back to your franchise. Just don’t get too comfortable, Dan, because your glory days are fading faster than your draft picks, and the only banner you’ll be raising soon is "Last Place."

Rich - The proud patriarch of the BRHL Tyler Army—seriously, how many Tylers does one league need? It’s like you’re starting your own junior team but forgot to teach any of them how to win. How will you ever win with no draft picks Rich?. What are you even doing during draft season—booking another trip to Cabo? You might be an OG in the league, but your trophy case is emptier than the Hurricanes’ playoff hopes. Maybe you’re waiting for a really special prospect? Newsflash: you can’t draft Connor Bedard if you don’t even have a pick. Let’s not ignore the glaring fact that, despite being around since the league’s inception, you’ve never won a cup. That’s right, Rich—zero cups. Nada. Even the Billy Miner pie has more layers than your hockey strategy. Maybe it’s time to stop focusing on The Keg’s menu and start focusing on your team.

Sober Ty - The eternal optimist of the BRHL, starting every season strong and finishing it like a wet napkin in a hurricane. The Florida Panthers under your reign have become the league’s most consistent punchline. Never making the playoffs? That’s not just a streak, my guy—that’s a lifestyle choice. Your strategy is basically a broken record: draft 20 players, watch 19 of them vanish into irrelevance, and then hang your hopes on the one kid who might actually be decent—until he inevitably leaves to play for a real contender. And let’s be real, being stuck in the Atlantic Division is only half the problem. The other half? You. If they gave out banners for "participation" in BRHL, you'd be the Atlantic’s undisputed champion. At this rate, the Panthers’ playoff drought will outlive us all. But hey, at least you’ll always have your liberal ideals and your 10-year rebuild plan to keep you warm while the rest of the league battles for championships.

Jesse - The King of Mediocrity in the BRHL. Your Columbus Blue Jackets are the league’s equivalent of lukewarm coffee: not hot enough to contend and not cold enough to tank. Just perpetually stuck in the middle, like you’re playing for participation ribbons instead of cups. You’ve mastered the art of being forgettable—well done!. Your day job is running wires for the Shaw Cable, but when it comes to your hockey team, it looks like you’ve cut the connection to success. And your softball career? Let’s call it what it is: an excuse to drink beer while occasionally pretending to care about the game. Swing and a miss, Jesse—both on the field and in the league. You’ve been around since the BRHL’s inception, yet your trophy case is as empty as a keg after one of your softball "performances." Even Rich Cordell can look at your track record and feel better about himself. Maybe instead of aiming for the middle every year, try doing something—anything—to change your fate. Or just keep coasting in no man’s land.

Al - The BRHL’s very own Minnesota mascot—though your knowledge of hockey seems to start and stop with the Golden Gophers. It’s almost impressive how you’ve managed to tie your entire team’s fate to one college program. Drafting players without Bryce’s help now? That’s like a kid trying to ride a bike without training wheels for the first time—except the kid is blindfolded, and the bike’s missing a wheel. Without Bryce whispering sweet nothings about draft strategy, your picks are basically dartboard decisions. And don’t get me started on your management skills—when it comes to building a team, you're less general manager and more general confusion. Do your trade offers come with “Make Minnesota Great Again” hats? Because I’m guessing no one’s buying. Just like Trump’s tweets, your hockey decisions are loud, chaotic, and leave everyone wondering what the heck just happened.

Dave - The self-proclaimed Cup Winner—even though you were just the assistant manager when it happened. That’s like taking credit for a Michelin star when you were peeling potatoes in the back. Since taking over full-time, the Chicago Blackhawks have been about as threatening as a housecat in a dog park. No playoff success, no banners—just vibes and excuses. And then there’s free agency. Quiet all year, but the moment someone outbids you, you vanish from the group chat faster than your team vanishes from playoff contention. Dave, leaving the chat isn’t going to bring your players back buddy—it just makes you look like a salty ghost. You might be one of the three Asians in the BRHL, but your Blackhawks are sitting in third place in that group too—except there’s no second or first. Keep coasting on that assistant manager cup win, Dave, because at this rate, it’ll be the only hardware you ever get to claim.

Junya - The fallen king of the BRHL. Two back-to-back cups once had you sitting pretty at the top of the league, but those days are long gone. Now, your Dallas Stars are a smoldering wreck, and you're clinging to past glory like a washed-up rock star playing dive bars. You’re out here trying to remind everyone about your championships, but all we see is a team that can’t even sniff the playoffs anymore. Let’s talk about that William Nylander signing—desperation dripping off every dollar of that bloated contract. And then there’s Rich, who played you like a fiddle, driving up the bid and leaving you whining like someone stole your lunch money. After that drama, you disappeared like your playoff hopes—classic Junya. Watching you and Rich bicker is like watching two broken clocks argue over who’s right more often. Spoiler alert: it’s neither of you. So go ahead, Junya, keep basking in the memories of your championships. At this rate, they’re all you’ve got.

Joel - The long-time manager of the Utah Hockey Club—where mediocrity goes to thrive. Seven years in the BRHL, and you’ve stumbled into the playoffs once, purely by accident. Let’s be honest, Joel: your division is so weak that making the playoffs is practically automatic, and yet you’ve somehow managed to screw even that up. It’s like tripping over a finish line made of pillows. Your team is finally starting to show signs of life, but it only took years of losing and a pipeline of prospects to get here. And then there’s Sidney Crosby—a shiny Band-Aid for a team that still has a gaping wound. Signing him was supposed to accelerate your rebuild, but all it’s done is give Crosby an early introduction to irrelevance. And we get it—you’re a proud conservative. But while you’re out here railing against liberal ways, your hockey ways are equally outdated. Maybe put down the political soapbox and pick up a playbook that works, because at this rate, your team’s future looks as bleak as your playoff resume.

P.J. - The mystery man of the BRHL—so quiet and unassuming that half the league probably forgets you even exist. And when you finally do make some noise, it’s because you got bamboozled by Sumit, of all people. Letting Sumit pull a fast one on you is like losing a chess match to someone who doesn't know how the pieces move. Nikita Kucherov with a surprise salary retention twist? Bravo, P.J., you’re the proud owner of both cap problems and no playoff hopes. For a guy who keeps to himself, you sure managed to pick the worst moment to step into the spotlight. All those flashy off-season additions, and yet your New York Rangers are still as lost as a tourist in Times Square. Cap-crunched and out of the playoff race? That’s the Jennings Way—quietly ineffective with a touch of mismanagement.

Steve - The eternal contender who can’t quite contend. Your Montreal Canadiens have been playoff regulars, but let’s face it—your postseason record is the hockey equivalent of a participation trophy. Year after year, you show up, only to bow out when it matters most. Now, your streak is about to end, and your team is aging faster than your students on exam day. Your latest attempts to salvage the roster are almost cute—desperately wheeling and dealing to stay relevant. Spoiler alert: no amount of trades can turn back the clock on a roster that looks more like a retirement home than a competitive hockey team. At this rate, you’re just rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. You may be a school teacher, Steve, but when it comes to hockey, it’s clear you haven’t done your homework. Maybe focus on teaching your players how to perform under pressure instead of showing up just to lose.

Pat - The guy who inherited a masterpiece and turned it into a finger painting. Bryce Shuck handed you the keys to a powerhouse Colorado Avalanche team, and you’ve been spinning your wheels ever since. It’s almost impressive how you’ve managed to do absolutely nothing with such a strong foundation—well, unless you count almost losing Nathan MacKinnon to Sumit, of all people. That’s next-level mismanagement, Pat. Your strategy seems to revolve around being the league’s court jester—always cracking jokes and poking the bear. And while your sarcasm game is strong, it’s clearly compensating for a hockey IQ that’s running on fumes. You’re like a stand-up comic who bombed their set but still insists on headlining the show. If you spent half as much time managing your team as you do cracking jokes, maybe the Avalanche wouldn’t be floundering in the shadow of Bryce’s legacy.

Rumpy - The Kings' fearless leader—or should we say their king of chaos? Once the life of the party, trading blackout benders for bad draft picks, you’ve settled down, but let’s be honest: your hockey takes are still as questionable as your nightlife choices used to be. Congrats on snagging Connor Bedard, but tanking for him was like decorating a dumpster—sure, it might look shiny now, but it’s still a dumpster fire. And that free agency showdown with Sumit? Truly a battle of titans… of mediocrity. Watching you two duke it out was like watching a pair of drunk toddlers fight over a broken toy. Congrats on winning that clash of the titans, though—it was the kind of victory that screams, “Hey, we’re all still losers here.” The Kings may have a new crown jewel, but with you at the helm, the throne is still miles out of reach buddy.

Toby - The BRHL’s loudest and most obnoxious cheerleader for the perpetually underwhelming Winnipeg Jets. You’ve got your dad, brother, and brother-in-law in the league, but let’s face it: Rich shouldn’t be bragging about this family dynasty. With Devon quitting, it looks like the Cordell curse of endless rebuilding now rests squarely on your shoulders. Congrats on inheriting that fine tradition!. You’ve been rebuilding longer than most BRHL managers have been alive. And let’s not forget your legendary inability to hold your liquor—big talker until the drinks kick in, then it’s game over. Toby, your Penguins might be rebuilding, but your credibility as a GM? That’s a teardown.

Eric F - The so-called leader of the Tampa Bay Lightning and the BRHL’s brief, disastrous experiment as Commissioner. Seven years in the league, one trip to the finals, and a whole lot of mediocrity since. Your young players may look great on paper, but on the ice? They’re flopping harder than your tenure as Commish. It’s almost poetic how your team’s performance mirrors your leadership skills—uninspired, ineffective, and ultimately forgettable. And let’s not ignore the elephant in the room: your "Lib-tard" ways. You’re out here waving the liberal flag in a league where Rex Shuck probably has a dartboard with your face on it. Too bad your political ideologies don’t translate into actual hockey strategies. Maybe if you spent less time virtue signaling and more time learning how to manage your roster, Tampa wouldn’t be the poster child for underachievement.

Garrett - The lesser Hansford—a title you’ve truly earned. While your brother Doc at least commands some respect, you’re out here coasting on a resume of mediocrity and empty boasts. The Toronto Maple Leafs under your reign have been as underwhelming as their real-life counterparts—stuck in perpetual mediocrity with no end in sight. Fitting, really. And let’s talk about your so-called “inside scoop” from working in hockey. You love to dangle that vague knowledge over everyone’s heads but can never spill the beans because, oh no, your job is on the line! Newsflash, Garrett: nobody cares about your secret intel when your team can’t even make a splash. If this is the "inside edge," we’d all prefer to stay on the outside. So keep boasting about your mysterious hockey connections, Garrett. Maybe one day you’ll actually use that knowledge to build something better than a middle-of-the-pack team. Until then, enjoy being the Hansford everyone's happy to see lose.

Brayden - The rookie sensation of the BRHL—or at least that’s what you’d like everyone to think. Sure, you’ve done more for the Ottawa Senators in six months than Steph ever did, but let’s be real—that bar is so low it’s practically underground. Don’t break your arm patting yourself on the back just yet; fixing a disaster doesn’t make you a genius, it just makes you a glorified janitor. You have a close relationship with your brother-in-laws Toby and Devon. Toby is already banging your sister and it appears Dan is coming after your mom. Let’s just hope she’s got better judgment than Devon has running a hockey team. The Senators are still a work in progress, and your management skills are as untested as your ability to dodge Cordell family BBQ's. Good luck, kid—you’ll need it.

Leon - The quiet operator of the Edmonton Oilers—one of the BRHL's three amigos of Asian heritage. You’re like the middle child of the trio—not as accomplished as Junya but just barely holding onto the title of “best team.” Congrats on being the guy who’s good but not good enough, year after year. It’s like you’re forever the bridesmaid, never the bride—except in this case, you’re probably too busy plotting secret meetings with other managers to notice. Maybe instead of these clandestine powwows, you should focus on building a team that can actually go the distance. Until then, you’ll just be the guy who’s almost there—close enough to brag but far enough to never be taken seriously.

Devon - The BRHL’s forever project. You quit running the Anaheim Ducks because you couldn’t juggle your oh-so-busy schedule of fantasy sports teams. Priorities, right? It’s no wonder your team has the worst record in league history—apparently, you’ve been rebuilding so long that the rest of the BRHL evolved into a whole new era while you’re still stuck in the Stone Age. Let’s face it, you’ve been a ghost of your former self ever since Bryce retired as commissioner. It’s like your hockey soul evaporated with him, leaving behind nothing but excuses and half-baked rebuild plans. The Ducks weren’t just bad under your watch—they were an art form of mediocrity. Maybe the Ducks would’ve had a chance if Todd were running the show instead of you. At this rate, your legacy in the BRHL isn’t as an original member—it’s as a cautionary tale.

Kevin - The BRHL’s very own draft hoarder extraordinaire. Every year, you roll into the draft like a kid in a candy store, armed with more picks than anyone else, and we’re all supposed to be impressed when one or two of them actually pan out. Are you a good drafter, or are you just playing the odds? Because when you’re drafting half the class, a few gems are bound to fall into your lap. Luck or skill? We’re still waiting for the jury to come back on that one. Sure, you’ve quietly built a good, young team—but let’s not gloss over the trainwreck trades that have sent you straight back to square one more than once. Methodical? More like accidentally stumbling into success after tripping over your own bad decisions. Keep stockpiling those picks, Kev—maybe one day you’ll draft a clue.

Tyler W - Oh, look, another Tyler! Just what the BRHL needed—like we didn’t already have a baker’s dozen of you running around. Tyler W, the fresh-faced manager of the Vancouver Canucks, making absolutely zero waves in his debut. Playing the “slow game,” are we? Well, congrats, because at this rate, you’re blending into the background so seamlessly we might forget you’re even in the league. Bold strategy, rookie. So far, your Canucks tenure is about as exciting as a Monday morning meeting. Keep playing it slow, though—you’ll fit right in with all the other teams perpetually stuck in neutral. Welcome to the BRHL, Tyler #273! Try not to bore us to death.

Joe Bast - The BRHL’s very own escape artist! Switched from the Eastern Conference to the Western Conference like it’s some sort of hockey witness protection program. Too bad you can’t run from your reputation as a tough negotiator who somehow still ends up on the losing end of most trades. Now you’re rebuilding? What a shocker. After a few glorious seasons of pretending to be a contender, you’re finally embracing the dumpster fire for what it is. The Vegas Golden Knights may be in Sin City, but your team’s biggest gamble was thinking you could manage them back to relevance. Good luck with the rebuild, Joe. Maybe this time, try negotiating with reality instead of fantasy.

Greg - The quick-witted mastermind behind the Boston Bruins—well, on paper, anyway. Your teams always look like world-beaters in theory, but when the puck drops, they somehow transform into a comedy of errors. Fitting, since you’re such a funny guy! Too bad the joke’s always on you when the season ends in disappointment. And those BRHL podcasts? What happened there? You were the voice of the league, but now it’s been over two years of radio silence. Did you run out of material, or were you too busy explaining why your “stacked” roster flopped again?. At least you’ve got Junya, your partner in mediocrity. Together, you’re like the dynamic duo of unrealized potential. Keep the laughs coming, Greg—it’s the only consistent thing about your game.

Jared - The BRHL’s self-proclaimed genius who’s been coasting on a championship he inherited like a trust fund baby. You took over a stacked roster, claimed the glory, and have been rebuilding ever since—because apparently building anything yourself is just too much effort. But hey, at least you’ve got your prospects and your weed, right? You’re probably the only GM who spends more time reading scouting reports with bloodshot eyes than actually winning games. And let’s not forget your big technological breakthrough—you finally got a mobile phone! Welcome to the 21st century, Jared! Maybe now you can text Larry and let him know you’re sparking up while your Sabres are flaming out.

Ken - The BRHL's self-proclaimed hockey expert who spends more time arguing about the Vancouver Canucks on Twitter than managing his own team. You’re the guy who’s always up for a good Twitter feud, but let’s be honest—your team is as stuck in mediocrity as those Canucks you can’t stop talking about. Maybe instead of getting into online scraps, try putting that energy into your roster for once. Your team’s stuck in purgatory and your constant feuds over hockey aren’t doing anyone any favors. So keep tweeting, Ken—because the only thing more predictable than your Twitter battles is your team’s inability to climb out of mediocrity.

Joe Bubanj - The guy who somehow manages to coast through six years of the BRHL without actually managing anything. You’ve made a grand total of two trades—probably because you can’t remember you even run a team, Joe. Let’s be real, your team’s at the top of the standings because Dan Lifshatz built it and you’re just riding the coattails of his success, like some sort of passive passenger on a championship train. And now, your team’s in financial ruin, a fitting metaphor for your entire existence as a manager. At this point, you’re going to have to sell off your players or watch everything crumble around you. But don’t worry, Joe—you’ll probably forget that you even have to make those decisions. Maybe one day, you'll remember you’re supposed to be managing the Islanders.

Larry - The BRHL’s resident grandpa and former police officer—because nothing screams cutting-edge hockey insight like reading the morning newspaper while reminiscing about Plant City baseball. You’re the elder statesman of the league, which is a polite way of saying you’ve been here longer than most of us have been alive. Your contribution? Sending unfunny memes so consistently that we had to give you your own channel just to contain the cringe. And let’s not forget your ongoing crusade against Jared’s weed habit. Relax, Larry—his Sabres are harmless, unlike your roster, which might actually be a public nuisance. Sensitive as you are, you’re probably clutching your pearls reading this, but hey, someone had to say it.

Sheds - Our self-proclaimed co-commissioner who’s as useful as a screen door on a submarine. That new BRHL website you promised? Still missing in action after two years, but hey, maybe by the next millennium, we’ll see it. For someone who thinks he’s smart, your random, nonsensical questions really do a great job of proving otherwise. Your Predators seem to follow your lead perfectly—they spend more time on the golf course than the ice. Maybe they’re just prepping for their next career since you clearly have no idea how to build a competitive team. Stick to your real passions, Sheds: golf, aimless chatter, and pretending you’re doing something important for the league. Because let’s face it, your management skills are as sharp as a butter knife.

Eric D - The self-proclaimed savior of the BRHL who took over the commissioner role after Bryce retired—only to slowly drive the league into the ground like a master of disaster. The decline of the league under your watch is a masterpiece, Eric. It’s like watching a train wreck in slow motion, but you’re sitting there pretending everything’s fine while sarcastically brushing off any criticism like it’s an inconvenience. You won the BRHL cup recently, but let’s be real—everyone knows it was fixed. Keep handing out your poison pills, Eric, because that’s the only thing you’re truly capable of—poisoning the league's spirit, one bad decision at a time.