Jiri,

You don’t know me, and I certainly don’t know you. I still harbor a bit of a grudge over 2002, but that’s mostly because I know Tommy Westlund and count one of his brothers as a friend. But I’d like to set any partisanship and grudge-holding aside for a moment and talk to you about this very brief article from Ted Kulfan of the Detroit News.

In it, you talk about coming back despite damn near dying of a congenital heart defect while on the bench. I can respect your will and your determination, but the odds are not in your favor. Given the retirements of Steve Konowalchuk and Greg Johnson for similar heart conditions, I respectfully submit that you should consider doing the same thing and filing those retirement papers tout suite.

How old are you, 26?  Why do you want to risk your life like this?  Getting cut with a skate blade is one thing. Getting smacked in the grill with a stick is one thing. Getting rammed face-first into the boards is one thing. But you almost died, son! Didn’t your life pass in front of your eyes that night against the Preds?  Didn’t you see the blonde spear-wielding chick buzzing your bench waiting to haul your ass off to Valhalla while the EMTs and Don VanMassenhoven were frantically working to keep you alive?
You got a second chance that night, bubba. You’ve fought and won numerous battles–now it’s time to hang up the battle-gear and turn to new endeavours. You’re a smart fellow, so why not go to university like you’ve always wanted to? I’m sure a sharp cat like you could easily get a nice degree and be successful somewhere. Turn your attention to your family. Have some kids and watch ‘em grow up. Maybe they’ll turn into hockey players like their dad, and bring home a Cup or two to share with you.
I don’t expect you to listen to me–but I would hope that you’ll listen to your heart and do what’s best for you…and as much as it pains you to hear this (and pains me to say it), hockey is no longer it.

Respectfully,

The Acid Queen