Did you hear about Arsenal soccer diehards gathering together to preach about the hatred of a man named Stanley Kroenke? What a shitbag. I think this is something the world should agree on.

Look, every time the Colorado Avalanche win a game, especially over the Blues, I feel a little pain in my ass. A lil Stan K. pain in the rear. It’s not debilitating by any means, but it’s just enough to make you build up the courage to punch the dogwalker that you happen to think is a giant snitch for the Princeton Heights police department. When the Los Angeles “We will never win another Super Bowl” Rams made it to the Super Bowl to face Tom Brady’s New England Patriots, I winced. And then they mustered three points.

I hate it when Stan’s teams do well. Honestly, I tune in at times just to-hopefully-watch his world burn for a few hours. He may not give a damn about winning games and pleasing fans, but I sure do about him cracking a smile at a checkbook anytime soon.

Can I go off on a tangent for a minute–before returning to the main idea of my latest book report? The word “hate” is too much for me to sling at an individual person. Whatever my problem happens to be, his/her/their day may have been a lot worse. We all know those days. It’s when everything that could go a certain direction finds a way to meet the quota of F.U.B.A.R.-which originated in World War II from a man named Adam. The 24 hour sets where the coffee tastes like dirty bath water with a kick, the car sounds and groans like an 80-year-old truffle hunter, and the idea of getting on a highway and not stopping runs across the mind. So hate is where I try to draw the line.

Except with Stan. I come pretty close to saying I hate the guy, and it has nothing to do with football. Not really. In taking the Rams out of St. Louis-a place where the Greatest Show on Turf lived a good life-he also took a shit on my town. He called it an unfit location for a sports town. All we had was baseball, hockey, and the city where the football team won their only Super Bowl title. Quite feverish if you ask me. That’s I love taking part in a Twitter line brawl if Kroenke is receiving the punches. I want him to take all the abuse and embarrassment of having a city take you to court-and keep it coming five years after you left town.

I love whenever his teams lose, or they feel like losing him. That’s what Arsenal fans were doing this weekend in the tweet above. Protesting Stan. Another fanbase calling out an owner for screwing them over in order to earn a few extra bucks. Music to the ears of St. Louis football fans. St. Louis sports fans, the ones who make it such a respected and revered sports town. St. Louis residents who don’t take kindly to someone calling them low-rate, passion wise.

It seems that while each year involves the usage of different numbers, one thing continues to grow: The haters of Stan Kroenke.

Long may we run. Please don’t waste breath, oxygen, or brain energy defending him or what we sling his way.