Wild General Manager Doug Risebrough and Assistant G.M. Tom Lynn recently travelled to Trencin, Slovakia, to visit with forward Marian Gaborik. What follows is a transcript of what their conversation probably sounded like:
(Setting: A dark room in Marian’s house, which resembles a castle with numerous auto racing arcade games, sort of a Medieval Chuck-E-Cheese. All three are seated at a table)
Marian Gaborik: Whassup, Dougie? Whatcha doin’ in Trencin?
Doug Risebrough: We just came over to visit with our favorite winger. How are you, Marian?
MG: Me good, me real good. Can I get you something to drink?
DR: Thanks, Marian, but we’re fine.
Tom Lynn: (Thinking to himself: Speak for yourself, asswipe.)
DR: Let’s cut to the chase here, Marian. We’re prepared to offer you the richest contact in the history of the franchise, but before we do so I’d like to get an indication from you that you’d be receptive to our offer.
MG: Come on, Dougie, we both know that "richest contract" doesn’t mean a hell of a lot when we’re talking about the Wild here. Remember this is the same team that wouldn’t cover my acne treatment in 2003-04.
DR: Let’s not get personal, Marian.
TL: I’m with Marian on this one; those were some big friggin’ zits.
DR: In any event, let’s just say we were to offer you $45 million over 5 years. Is this something you’d be happy with?
TL: (Using a calculator) That’s almost $9.0 million per year.
MG: What good is all that money going to do me if I can’t spend it with Pavol and Radio? Damn, I miss those guys.
DR: They live next door, Marian. I saw Demitra mowing his lawn when we drove by.
MG: I mean during the season, dumbass. Pavol was my boy and you guys let him walk.
DR: Now there’s no need to insult us, Marian. Pavol was nearing the end of his career and wanted too much money. There just wasn’t value there.
MG: Ok, I may listen if you can convince the old man to play me more than 19 minutes a game. Man, if I played on the East coast I’d score 80 goals…no, make that 100.
DR: I’ll talk to Jacques, he’s always open to suggestions.
TL: (Thinking to himself: There’s no chance in hell. We travelled 4,000 miles for nothing but a burnt bratwurst at the Trencin Sonic. Why did I let Doug talk me into this?
MG: You guys should go now. I’ve got my NASCAR fantasy league in 2 hours and I need to prepare.
DR: Sounds good, Marian. Keep in touch.
MG: Bye. (Thinking to himself: I can’t wait to play for the Atlanta Thrashers next year.)