My oldest memory of St. Louis Blues winger David Perron came during his rookie season with the team. He was gliding into the offensive zone and whistled a pass towards the front of the net that Keith Tkachuk missed.
The goaltender scooped it up and the play was blown dead. Perron skated off and threw a mini tantrum. It was similar to a young child kicking his feet at Walmart because his parents didn’t buy him a toy. It was during that very moment that I thought Perron would die a young death, because Big Walt gave him a death stare from across the ice.