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

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.

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.'

I want him to be that special guy he was when he played,

When I was in the record store with Sean Avery helping him look for CDs, I pulled out Tapestry. He was like, Who is Carole King?Can you imagine?