Last we saw our heroic leader, Terry Pegula had just finished firing Tim Connolly, Drew Stafford and Larry Quinn. He also promised Ryan Miller the keys to the Goodyear Blimp for Patrick Lalime Stanley Cup and told Darcy Regier that money is not an object. However, that was just the first part of Mr. P’s evaluation. Today, he’s still continuing with the interview process.
Craig Rivet
CR: I don’t know if there is anything left to say. I really fricken suck now.
TP: Finally. Someone is honest in this organization. Yes, Craig. You’ve been a disaster. What gives?
CR: Sometimes, in any man’s walk of life, you enter a realm of uncertainty. You wake up everyday and your goals are still there, but you aren’t sure if you can reach them. Then as the days of uncertainty pile up, you wonder if it’s still worth it? You ask yourself, is this the end? And if it is, what should I do afterwards? I’ve taken this game so seriously over the years, and now, I wish I hadn’t. You see, when you’re younger, you don’t think of yourself working against the clock. I wish I didn’t take it so serious, because now my gift is gone and I’m heartbroken.
TP: (Gets teary eye)
CR: I don’t deserve this anymore. (Craig Rips the “C” off his flannel shirt and throws it to the ground). I’m finished.
TP: Craig, you’re a stand-up guy. I respect you more than you’ll ever know. Because I’m rich beyond your wildest dreams (Points to the ceiling, as the painters are painting the Sistine Chapel), I’m going to pay you the rest of the money that is owed to you. Also, I’ll see if we can put you in a managerial job somewhere.
CR: Thank you.
Derek Roy
DR: Hi, I’m Derek Roy. You may have seen me in such Cellino and Barnes commercials, blue and gold makes green and my crib on NHL.com. I enjoy long walks along Elmwood Avenue, while quenching on a beer.
TP: Ok, shut up, Roy. I know who you are and I’ve been impressed with you this season.
DR: Yeah, it’s because I stopped listening to Lindy. He’s an idiot and I know what the system should be.
TP: Derek, you can’t undermine your coach.
DR: Why not? I’m a star! I have clout in this town.
TP: A star? Says who?
DR:Well, Darcy Regier said I was a top 20 center, didn’t you hear?
TP: Darcy just figured out that he can watch other teams on NHL Center Ice, so he’ll be changing his opinion soon enough. Plus, you’re being a d#ck right now. To think, I was going to maybe offer you the “C”.
DR: The C? Well, it wouldn’t clash with my uniform.
TP: Um, I think you should leave, Zoolander. Before I fire you!
DR: Fire me? I’m Derek Roy. I signed the greatest contract in Sabres history in terms of money, years and production. I’ve been on countless TV Spots. I invented the fohawk, damn it! You should have seen my performance at Ryan Miller’s charity event. I did a beautiful rendition of NSYNC-Dirty Pop.
TP: Really? I love NSYNC! Can you do a dance for me? Remember, I own some sort of country label. Maybe I can get you in.
DR: Sure! Here we go..and 1, and 2 and 3 go….
“I’m sick and tired of hearing All these people talk about. What’s the deal with this Roy-z and when is he gonna listen to Ruff. The thing you got to realize, What I’m doing is not a trend. I got the gift of scoring and I’m gonna bring it till the end. (It doesn’t matter) ‘Bout the way I dive or all the turnovers I get. (All that matters) Is that you recognize That it’s just about Roy-Z (It doesn’t matter). About what Lindy says and where I go and why. (All that matters) Is that I get all the goals and I’ll do it to you every time! Come on now!”
TP: You go Roy-Z, please move over to the right by a few feet. The lighting is better over there.
DR: “Do you ever wonder why? Roy-Z gets you high? When I take the goalie on a ride, the goalie starts to rock (Roy-Z starts to move) And the goalie can’t stop the puck (You can’t stop). And the music’s all you got
TP: (slams a button on his desk)
DR:This must be, ROYYYYYYYYYZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ (Derek falls through a trap door)
TP: My god. No wonder Lindy hates that guy so much. And who the hell likes NSYNC? Hmmm..I hope that trap door didn’t lead to the screeching eels or the fire swamp. I still think he can play, he’s just an idiot.
Daniel DiPofi
TP: Who the hell are you?
DD: Well, I’m Daniel DiPofi and I’m the chief operating officer for the Sabres
TP: I’ve never even heard of you, Dipoilo
DD: That’s Dipofi
TP: Whatever, are you a part of them?
DD: You mean, Larry Quinn and Tom Golisano?
TP: Yes, those hacks.
DD: Well, they did hire me.
TP: FIRED!
DD: No, no. Give me a chance.
TP: I don’t know Dipolioso, or whatever your name is. I’m not thrilled with the upper management here.
DD: Wait. Let me give you my ideas about what I see for the future of this team.
TP: You see this (Pointing towards an hourglass), I’m going to flip this over, like your bosses did when they flipped the franchise. You have 60 seconds to deliver for me, DiGiorono. (Flips hourglass)
DD: Um, well, I think we should redo the jerseys.
TP: Um, I don’t care about jerseys because I have enough money..you have 40 seconds.
DD: How about having a Sabres museum?
TP:Hmmm..interesting, but I already thought of that..20 seconds
DD: OK, you know the Party in the plaza?
TP: Yes.
DD: Lets have it after every home game and we’ll enclose it in a heated tent during the winter.
TP: I like that. We can actually have our own tailgating zone. By having more beer, we can actually get a rise out of the HSBC Areana.
DD: Exactly. I’d also like to talk about the roster.
TP: Opps. Time is up. However, you’re time isn’t up here. On a sidenote, don’t you EVER bring up personnel to me. You’re nothing but a business guy.
DD: Yes, sir.
Darcy Regier
TP: Darcy!!!!
DR: Yes, master.
TP: Why haven’t we won the Stanley Cup yet? Didn’t I tell you I have a large bank account?!
DR: Well, master. It’s only December and you’ve owned the team for like a week.
TP: I don’t want to hear any excuses from you! What trades have we made?
DR: Well, Ryan and I went over what he wanted, like you said, and we came up with some nice moves.
TP: Good. What you got?
DR: Well, Ryan Miller made me buy some photography equipment.
TP: Huh? For what? To scout players?
DR: No, Ryan is an avid photographerand since you gave him carte blanche, he wanted photography equipment?!
TP: What?! He said he wanted the Stanley Cup?!
DR: Yes. Because he wanted to take photos of it to add to his collection.
TP: So you traded for camera equipment?
DR: Yes. You said you didn’t like our video scouting system, so we traded a DVD player for a digital camera. Smart, huh?
TP: I could strangle you with the phone cord that you should be using right now.
DR: Oh….um, I guess you don’t want to hear about Patty Lalime flying the Goodyear blimp?
TP: GET OUT!!! NOW!!! (throws the phone at Darcy). Start making some deals, NOW!
Harrry Flynn
TF: Hi, I’m Flynn, Harry Flynn.
TP: Um, hello, Harry? I’ve never heard of you before.
TF: Yes. I’m the executive VP in charge of gaming and land…err…development
TP: Huh? What the hell does that mean?
TF:Well, I would normally advise the previous owners about the every day dealings. I guess you would call me a consultant.
TP: Well, I’ve already made my opinion clear on the hire-ups who were here. Frankly, I didn’t like them.
TF: Yes, and neither did I (As Flynn begins to twist his Mario Brothers like mustache). Let me tell you what I can offer.
TP: I’m listening (Turns over hour glass)
TF: Oh, um (Begins to scratch his blond hair) I will offer you this: Multiple cups that will only cost you half.
TP: Half of what?
TF: Half the money. I have this amazing flawless system.
TP: System?
TF: Yes. It’s a system where we have young players in the minor leagues. We overhype them and sooner or later, they blossom. Then, when the market comes into play, we’ll let the guys go and restock the shelf with overhyped prospects. It will be brilliant.
TP: Um, the system kind of sounds like what you guys had before….and I didn’t like it then!
TF: No, no. I think there were things that went beyond our control. If you give me a mulligan, I think we can make it work.
TP: Wait a minute?! A mulligan? A system? Land? Security! Grab Mr. Flynn!
TF: Hey, what’s the meaning of this?! Don’t you know what I’m trying to give to you?
TP: I’m more curious to see who you really are (Rips off Flynn’s blond wig and mustache). A-ha! It’s Larry Quinn! I thought I fired you!
LQ: Damn you! I was this close to making millions with my money ball philoshy. And I would have
gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you stupid, pesky, rich hockey fans!
TP: Please get rid of him. He obviously didn’t get the point the first time, so please, stitch the nasty Buffalo slug that he created onto the back of his suit, and let him take the walk of shame.
LQ: Nooooooooooo! Don’t make me wear the slug!
TP: You reap what you sow, Quinn. Oh, and don’t forget, security…please, use Larry’s head to open the exit door.
Nathan Gerbe
TP: Where the hell is Nathan Gerbe? He was suppose to be here 20 minutes ago.
NG: I’m right here, boss.
TP: Um, where’s that voice coming from?
NG: Look over your desk, sir.
TP:(Looks over his desk to see Gerbe) WOW! You really are small.
NG: Yes, well, you can blame my parents for it.
TP: I guess I could. Well, I’ll make this short..I mean, quick. You aren’t any good. So, you’re gone.
NG: But wait! I’m Nathan Gerbe. I’m small, and all the girls think I’m cute because of my size. I also have the nerdest last name ever, which seems to strike a cord with the ladies.
TP: Yeah, sorry. They tried having the chick magnet player with Max a couple of years ago and that just doesn’t work with me. Try Pee-wee hockey, buddy.
Thomas Vanek
TP: Tommy boy, how’s it going?
TV: I’m so depressed.
TP: Again? Dude, you’ve been doing great as of late.
TV: It’s not good enough! You know that goal I scored the other night against the Sharks on a 2 on 1?
TP:Yeah, it was gorgeous.
TV: NO IT WASN’T! I aimed for the top shelf corner of the net. Instead, it went in the middle shelf. I’m a failure, damn it!
TP: Top what?
TV: Shelf! Then, after I left the arena, I was at a four way stop sign and when I made my “official stop,” my front bumper was over the white line. I can’t stand being wrong! TP: Dude, you need a shrink
TV: No one believes in me!?
TP:(Jumps out of his chair and grabs Vanek by the collar) You listen to me!? You’re the greatest scoring prospect that the Sabres have drafted in the last 25 years?! The Sabres didn’t give you 50 million plus because they had too, they did it because you’re a gifted skater. I believe in you and I want you to have this.
TV: The C? But, I can’t except it.
TP: Yes, you can. I know that your attitude of always trying to be the best will rub off on your line mates. Plus, maybe as the captain, you can throw your weight around and take your anger out on some of the bums in the locker room.
TV: I think I’m going to cry.
TP: Can we not, please? You aren’t Jeremy Roenick.
TV: You’re right. I’m honored.
TP: No problem. Now get your head on straight and go get a girlfriend or something.
TV: Actually, I’m married with twins.
TP: Really? Well, that explains a lot. Go hire a nanny or something.
The Buffalo News and Sabres bloggers
TP: (Walks into the office)
TBN: Screw you! You’re not getting that?!
SB: Yes, we are!!! We are bloggers?! We want them!!
TP: What is the meaning of this!?
SB: Mr. Pegula, we want press passes! We are the blogging community of the Buffalo Sabres and are very excited about you taking over the club.
TBN: No, they aren’t!? For years, these feces, blogged from their basements about their love for Golisano and Regier.
SB: Why don’t you guys go write another story about the prodigal son, Tim Kennedy.
TBN: You leave Tim Kennedy alone!? He’s South Buffalo’s finest and he invented Genny Cream Ale!? He’s amazing!
TP: Who the hell is Tim Kennedy and why do I care about him being from South Buffalo?
SB: Exactly. We want press passes.
TBN:You can’t let these feces into the HSBC Arena!? They will spread awful rumors about Tim Connolly getting punched by Derek Roy!
TP: Derek Roy punched Tim Connolly!? Wow, can we give Roy a lifetime contract?
TBN: You don’t get it?! These feces aren’t journalists and for years, they spread the gospel according to Larry Quinn.
SB: First off, we actually care about the Sabres! And if you call us feces one more time, I’m goin
g to have my Saint Bernard eat you.
TBN: Do it, and I’ll have Sheldon Souray come to your house (Because he owes me for plugging his name all summer) and use his hockey stick to break your cell phone, so you won’t be able to tweet. Hell, I’ll call Rick Dudley and he’ll have the Thrashers thrash all your twitter accounts.
SB: NO!!!!! Not our twitter pages!?
TP: OK, calm down!? My god, why do you people hate each other?
TBN: Because they are stealing our jobs and they aren’t objective.
SB: Because they blame us for supporting our team.
TBN: Don’t you guys have to home and do your parents chores.
SB: Why don’t you guys throw out your type writers and live in the now
(Everyone is yelling uncontrollably. Then all of a sudden, the door opens and everyone stops.)
Everyone: Who the hell are you?
Joe: Hi, I’m Joe. Joe from NYC.
TBN: Oh, not this loser who has nothing better to do than chat on every single news chat.
SB: Yeah, you’re a tool who thrives on being objective and we don’t like that?! You must cheer for everyone!? Yippie!?
Joe: OK, lets reset for a minute. Now, the bloggers want press passes, right?
SB: Um, yeah!
Joe: However, the news are barking at the notion.
TBN: They are feces I tell you, FECES!?
SB: Oh, go live in Amish country and use feces to grow some beans.
Joe: Stop, stop, STOP!!! Don’t you people follow history?! It was 234 years ago that we gained our independence from the Brits! And you know what was one of the first things awarded to us?! Freedom of the Press! It’s a god given constitutional right?! You think George Washington sat there and made sure the reporters went to college for it? Or whether they were living in their parents basement?!
Darcy: I don’t think they had basements then
TP: Shut up, Darcy! Keep going, Joe.
Joe: Right. They gave it to the best man for the job! And that’s what America is about (The Battle Hymn of the Republic….Glory Glory Hallelujah plays). Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference, and impart information and ideas through any media regardless of frontiers. Why can’t we learn from each other?! Help each other out! Do what George Washington wanted: Work together. Walter Kronkite must have helped a blogger out somehow. We need each other. We will become one! We will become an army of the republic and become the first Galactic Empire! Oh, wait. That’s what the Emperor said to the Senate in Revenge of the Sith. Well, he had the right idea. He wanted everyone to work together. We must exchange our thoughts and become a media enterprise of Truth, Justice and the American way! Now, who is with me?! YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! (Begins waving the American flag)
SB: (Crickets sounding)
TBN: (Looking at each other)
Joe: Um, what do you say, guys?
SB: Um, you’re off our blog roll!
TBN: Yeah, and you’re banned from our chats!
(Both parties continue yelling at each other.)
Joe: Oh, gees. Lets cut to the chase. Terry…Terry? TERRY! WAKE UP
TP: Awakes and mumbles “I’m going to kill Darcy.” Um, great speech man?
Joe: can you give the bloggers their own press box like they had with the Islanders?
TP: Sure, I’m rich.
TBN: No! We are jeopardizing the integrity of the press.
Joe: AND…maybe Terry will actually return the phone calls of some of the reporters, unlike Golisano.
TP: Sure, I can do that. As a matter of fact, I’ll even do a weekly Terry’s corner in the paper.
TBN: Hmmmmmm…
Joe: And, I’m sure Terry will have his people interview some of the bloggers and have their best five represent the community.
SB: Yeah, we can do that.
TBN: I don’t know, there’s a feces factor.
TP: Okay! ALL YOU CAN EAT BUFFET BEFORE, DURING AND AFTER GAMES FOR TBN AND THE BLOGGERS!
TBN:Wohooo!!!!! YEAHAHAHAHAHHA. We never turn away free food!
SB:YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!! No more mom’s home-cooking during games!
TP: Lets celebrate! Start playing some music!
Derek Roy appears to do his rendition of
“Roy-z Pop.” Everyone starts dancing and doing shots! Darcy starts table dancing. Not confirmed, but some may have been playing spin the hockey stick.
Joe: Where the hell did this party come from?
TP: It’s a party, Joe. There’s no rhyme or reason for it.
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