I know who you are. You wrote a book about my dad.

When my dad was playing in Winnipeg in '72-I was about 8 years old-he took me to my first outdoor rink in the winter. My feet were so cold, and then it gets even more excruciating once they start to thaw. It was the most excruciating pain I've ever had.

I was kind of smart enough when I was young, 14 or 15 years old, to realize that if you're ever going to do anything and step out of the shadow of your own dad - not only in hockey, but in life itself - you're going to have to learn you're Brett and not 'Bobby's son.'

If you get the seventh goal in a 7-0 game, big deal. But any goal has meaning, you know, even if it's the third goal and it's 3-0. I mean, they can still come back and get three goals.

You can't get big in hockey. You need to be pliable... they've even taken fighting out of the game, so there's no more of those big huge guys who just fight.

I see myself playing as long as I am partially enjoying the game and partially successful and they are paying me. But honestly, two more years is about all I can take.