It pains me to write you this letter. We've had some good times in the past, but this season you've turned so cold and unmoving. I thought about whether I should just wait and see if you'd come around, but I've decided things have dragged on long enough. So, I have to ask, why do you hate me? I give you chance after chance, but you don't seem to care. All I want to do is go dancing; have a little fun. Maybe score once in a while.
You proved you don't love me anymore, so I wanted to go out with Tomas Plekanec. You can't let me be happy, though. You always find something else for him to do. One day he's digging ditches, next day taking out the garbage. At the end of the week, he's got nothing left for me. You never let him get my motor running.
No. Instead you push me at Mathieu Darche. Mathieu Darche?! I mean, he's a great guy and all, but he's really not my type. He's hardworking, sure. He just doesn't make me respond to his Edward Scissorhands-like touch.
I confess, I'm desperate. At this point, I'd take an impotent Scott Gomez rush. At least it's exciting for a little while, even if he's got the finish of raw lumber. You keep telling me it'll be different when Andrei Markov arrives, but you've been saying the same thing for two years now. I can't deal with this teasing for much longer.
I'm just a mess. When I look back at old videos, I don't recognize myself. I used to be hot and dangerous. Now I'm sloppy and disorganized. I've gone to hell and, Jacques? I blame you. You think you know what's best for me, but you keep setting me up with the wrong guys. There's no chemistry and my chances of scoring are among the lowest in the league. What I don't get is why you don't see it. Everyone else does. The pundits are all talking about it. Fans are pointing at me and gossiping about my problems. People are calling me useless and pathetic.
Why are you so stubborn, Jacques? I know Josh Gorges doesn't really have a silky touch, but he's performing this year. He's built up more points than any other blueliner you've got. I'd like a shot with him. You know, maybe give Plekanec a job he's more suited to do, so he's rested enough to take me out on weekends. When he's overworked, he leaves me hanging and I make bad, costly decisions. I'm letting strangers score as often as my own guys. Seriously, give Gorges a chance to make me happy.
I just want to be productive again. Honestly? I want to put out. This is probably tough for you to hear because I know you're pretty well opposed to offensive freedom. But, Jacques, this is the New NHL, and we have every right to score. Kirk Muller had the right idea, but he's left me in your cold hands and now I'm lost.
The funny thing is, as much as you hate me, you need me. You have to admit it, or you're going to regret it later. If I'm not happy, you and your players won't be happy either. So consider this a cry for help. Think about putting your dislike of me aside and being a little more flexible. Plekanec is your boy, I know, but he'd be so much better with me if you just gave him his freedom.
Please, Jacques. Before it's too late, loosen up. Let me do what I do best and I can help you. If you don't, well, it's going to be a long, depressing season and I'm going to cost you a lot of games. That's a promise.
Your Power Play.