As most of you are already aware by now, Wes Walz officially retired from the Minnesota Wild last Saturday. His announcement ended a month of speculation as to what the hell he has been up to during the past few weeks, as Walz had been basically incommunicado with the organization since leaving the team on November 1st. During his press conference, here is what Wes had to say on how he plans to spend his time post retirement:
“Change a lot of diapers. My 10-month-old is in go-mode right now. I’ll chase her around the house and get the kids off to school and hang out at Wal-Mart and Target and department stores and now at least I’ll have no excuse getting my Christmas shopping done.”
It sure sounds nice and relaxing, doesn’t it? But how is it really going for Walzy without hockey to occupy his every waking moment? Through sources I am not at liberty to divulge, I have secured a copy of Wes Walz’s daily journal (of course, hockey players keep journals – they have feelings, too, don’t they?). What follows are his entries for the past four days.
Monday, December 3, 2007
What a great day. You know, it was hard saying goodbye to all my teammates and coaches and all and I’m going to miss playing hockey a lot, but it will be so nice spending more time with the kids and seeing Kerry-Anne more often. Today, I dropped Jaedyn, Brehna and and Kelvin off at school and me and Cheyne just hung out all day. I am truly blessed. Retiring was definitely the right thing to do.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
I decided to get some shopping done today. Kerry-Anne gave me a list of groceries to pick up. She couldn’t believe it took me 4 hours to get less than 20 items, but jeez, I spent at least a half an hour trying to decide if I wanted “April Fresh”, “Mountain Spring” or “Clean Breeze” Downy fabric softener – they all smelled the same to me. Not only that, some employee at the store gave me crap for grabbing a few of the peanuts out of that big bin they got there. Jerk. They shouldn’t have them sitting out in the open if they don’t want you eating them. It’s no big deal, I guess, and I suppose I’ll get the hang of all this stuff – it’s still better than taking a red-eye back from Vancouver to St. Paul. It sure is nice being retired.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Jesus, I’m bored. There’s jack shit on television during the day and a 10-month-old baby is entertaining for only so long. She’s wearing me out. I had no idea something that small could shit so much. Then the other three get home from school and they start right in with “Daddy do this” and “Daddy do that”. When I was a kid, all I needed was a sheet of ice and my skates – entertain yourselves for Christ’s sake! To make matters worse, the wife nagged me all day about “projects” she has been wishing I would get to around the house. I wish she would just lay off me for a while. Shit, I just retired 4 days ago and she’s already breaking my balls about painting the master bathroom! What has she been doing all these years while I have been busting my ass providing for her? Spending my hard-earned money, that’s what! Man, I miss the guys.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Somebody fucking kill me already. I can’t take this shit no more. So the old lady sends me to Target to pick her up some “feminine products”. “No big deal”, I thought, but that’s the last time I ever do something like that. There are some things men should do and other things women should do. Going to buy cunt-plugs is a woman’s job, that’s all there is to it. And Jesus Christ there is a lot of fucking fat people out there! Try mixing in a salad every once in while instead of inhaling your Super-Sized Double Quarter-Pounder with Cheese Extra Value Meal with a Diet Coke, you miserable gluttons!
I’ve made a huge mistake. What was I thinking? The walls are closing in around me and it’s getting harder to breathe. In between the pissing and moaning of the Queen Bitch, the ungrateful little bastards that are my kids and the headache-inducing crying of the Shit Factory – I don’t know, maybe retiring wasn’t such a good idea after all. I mean, I’m in great shape, I could still play. If not, I’ll do anything…the laundry, drive the Zamboni, gently massage Gaborik’s tender groin - anything is better than this. Just get me the hell out of here. Either that or I’m going outside, closing the garage door, starting up the minivan and waiting for that merciful sweet release.
Now, where did I put Jacques’ phone number?