.@ChrisJLeeper #AskAmandaKessel #AskAmandaKessel pic.twitter.com/aUEAQjq7HN

— Amanda Kessel (@AmandaKessel28) March 7, 2018

Source  – Everything about Phil Kessel’s love for hot dogs is a lie.

It would be pretty fair to assume that Team USA gold medalist Amanda Kessel surely knows a thing or two about her older brother’s dietary habits, as the two were born less than four years apart, both with elite hockey talent and, by all accounts, are pretty close.

During an online Q&A Wednesday, one fan, who is doing the gritty journalism work many of us can only aspire to, asked the younger Kessel a vitally important question: Does your brother Phil really love to eat hot dogs?

“I gotta put it out there: Phil does not really love to eat hot dogs. He does eat hot dogs, sometimes maybe on the golf course, but no, he does not love to eat hot dogs.”

That’s right. The man as synonymous with all-beef franks as he is with scoring goals is a phony. The man who gave beer-league athletes everywhere hope, strength, and dietary wisdom is really just another fitness and nutrition shill, probably a silent investor in some supplement company hawking nootropics and cricket protein or some shit.

Where did this whole Phil Kessel loves hotdogs notion begin, you may be wondering? Let us introduce you to Toronto Sun columnist Steve Simmons. The much-maligned sports writer published a piece titled “Leafs were sick and tired of Phil Kessel” in 2015 after his departure from Toronto. Here’s Simmons’ lede:

The hot dog vendor who parks daily at Front and John Sts. just lost his most reliable customer. Almost every afternoon at 2:30 p.m., often wearing a toque, Phil Kessel would wander from his neighbourhood condominium to consume his daily snack.

The terribly sourced and unsubstantiated piece became folklore in Toronto, and the legend of hot dog-loving Phil Kessel was born.

Well, well, well.  Straight from the sister’s mouth.   Sure sounds like Stevie made this up and got paid to do it.  He’s like the JR Tolkien of sports journalism minus the creative mind and the monsters.

He apparently also practices pussy karate whereby kicking people when they are on their way out of town and grandstanding on a soapbox of lies to endear himself to the stupid.

I’m sure he got plenty of support last night from Bruce Arthur playing tiddlywinks in their gotch together wondering what cause they can piggyback on for clicks.

I’m not a journalist, and this isn’t a news outlet.  But at the very least we call a spade a shitty spade and don’t make stuff us so people look at us because we’re too afraid to be irrelevant.  We know we are, so there’s no pressure to call people out for being a butthead that makes up a ludicrous story about hot dogs for attention.

It’s too bad because if you didn’t know he was a jello headed dickfart you’d enjoy his writing.   Maybe come playoff time he could make up a story about Mitch Marner stopping at a head shop or Leo Komarov staying up till midnight playing call of duty and what that means to the sports world.

And can someone give him some chapstick?  Jesus.