The Columbus Blue Jackets CPHL roster looks like it was assembled in a dimly lit garage using expired scouting reports and a Ouija board. Center depth? More like a support group for unfulfilled potential — Danault is toast without butter, Glass is confidence in pieces, and Hayton’s development is on a leisurely stroll through molasses. Their wings flap but don’t fly — Foligno fights ghosts, Neighbours plays like one, and Nyquist is already halfway to retirement in spirit (and likely in Florida). The defense core is a tribute to defensive lapses: Bogosian remembers when skates had buckles, Forbort’s best move is changing lines, and Wotherspoon sounds magical but plays like he’s under a curse. In net, Adin Hill flips between elite and existential crisis, while Elvis continues to leave the building — and the crease — at the worst possible moments. It’s a team that inspires fear — not in opponents, but in their own fanbase.
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