To: Kevin Lowe,
At: The Really Big Office with the Super Cool Windows and the Huge Photo Portrait of Six Rings,
Bet you didn’t think you’d be hearing from me so soon! I know I’m not meant to make any contact with you or you’ll get the security guards to give me another beating, but I really need to talk. I can’t help thinking about all the fun we had running the Oilers together. Remember the times you let me carry your golf clubs all the way round 18 holes in the rain while you and Mr. Katz rode in the covered buggy talking about which strip clubs to visit. Good memories, eh? It was great that we never made the playoffs so that we got all that extra time for you and Mr. Katz to work on your golf and your amazing free agent signings.
I sure miss Rexall and my little office under the basement stairs. Did you put the MacTavish guy there too? I guess not. I bet he has an upstairs office next to yours. You probably also gave him his own key to the zamboni. I don’t mean to bitch, but I never could figure out why you wouldn’t trust me to drive a zamboni yet you let me handle Khabibulin’s contract negotiations. After all, you said I couldn’t possibly fuck anything up that badly again. It’s great that we can look back and laugh about all that now. No harm done, right?
The other day I was reading about all the horrible things that the second tier fans were saying about you. Such bad stuff! It's all the fault of that MacTavish and the little pet weasel he gets to coach the team. I bet you wish you still had me around to take the blame for all the decisions you make. Like that time when we were in your office and you dressed up as Batman and I wanted to be your Robin. Instead you made me dress up as Catwoman and ride round your desk on Darcy Hordichuk's back trying to kiss each of your six rings. It was really good fun until that prick Gary ‘Bigshot’ Bettman walked in on us and you made me say I had forced you to do it at gunpoint. I can't believe he bought it when you said living this far north had given me frostbite in the brain. It's funny how he seemed to think that explained a "whole lot of things about this clusterfuck organization". What a strange thing to say!
But lets forget about that. I want you to know that I haven’t been lazy since you told me to fuck off out of town and look for another job. It’s been a really significant period of professional growth for me. The big news is that I was working as Director of International Communications (they called me 'the Canadian DIC' - how cool is that!) at the Uzbekistan national football team. They were really impressed by my CV when I applied because I already had tons of experience working for egomaniac dictators with shitty tempers.
Sadly it didn’t work out for long because the translator couldn’t figure out what I was trying to say. I think it was probably because there is no Uzbek word for 'poise' (og'irlik is perhaps the closest, but Nick Schultz definitely had vazminlik). But the translator said it was because I had the communication abilities of a rabid Bactrian camel that had chewed off its own tongue. Now I just make the tea and clean the boss' fleet of limos, but the whole experience really made me appreciate how cool things are back home. Canada is truly a land of opportunity where someone as incoherent as me can run a huge multi-million dollar sports operation for half a decade without ever looking like I remotely knew what I was doing. I love Tashkent but, god, I miss Edmonton.
Anyhow, I’m writing because with all the shit that's going down I really feel you need me. I want to be there for you, Kev, like you were there for me. After another year of rebuilding, it’s time to get someone back who knows how to grin like a gormless fool in front of the media and explain - time and time again - why things are actually running exactly to plan and that anyone who questions the management is an ignorant, treasonous wretch that deserves to be boiled alive in a vat of Steve MacIntyre's urine. You see, I've learned a few things during my time in Uzbekistan.
Rehiring me is the right thing to do, Kev. After all, I think I know a thing or two about winning lotteries, if that was ever a concern.
Yours in expectation,
Lil’ Stevie T.
P.S. I still love you.
P.P.S. Tell Mr. Katz that I really miss his perfect poise.