"You know, when Young gets back from injury, I'm sure he'll help the club. I think. He hasn't played in a while, though."

Team: While I'd prefer to be an Oiler due to Being-Born-And-Raised-In-Edmonton-Itis, it would have to be a team desperate enough to need me, poor enough not to be able to sign someone better and good enough not to get an early draft pick.
Uniform number: 71 or 77. Used to like wearing #7 until Jason Arnott tarnished the number.
Position: Usually in an agitator role. Kind of Tikkanen speaking English, "The Rat" but better looking or Buchberger but more erudite.
Nickname: Who's that? Game Day Decision. Write-In. Emergency Call-Up. Not him. Dave Young (knee) Dave Young (upper body injury) Dave Young (concussion)
Dream linemates: Someone good enough to pass the puck off my ass into the net, a la Gretzky/Semenko. Gretzky is retired so that won't happen. Someone tough enough to finish the fights I start.
Rounding out the PP: Someone fast enough to catch the players that strip the puck from me. Someone smart enough to notice players streaking past me and check them.
Job: Opening the door on the bench when needed. Or not opening the door when needed. Making the really emotional players (Torres, Hemsky types) mad at me and start playing with emotion. Above all, basically finding a way to get on the team and then doing all I can to avoid actually playing and getting found out, thus ending a brilliant career.
Signature move: Tying up opponents at our blueline hoping for an offside call. Signing charity autograph items for the star players for beer money (signature move, ha ha ha). A limp. Subtle enough to suggest that a return is coming soon. Strong enough to keep me off the ice.
Strengths: Fierce determination, funny comments to opponents hoping to throw them off, learning to do fake Russian, Czech, Swede accents hoping to anger Euros. Having such a lopsided shot that goalies have no friggin' idea where or how the puck will come off the stick, thereby fooling them. Getting into fights I have no hope of winning to fire up teammates (and also keep me off the ice - the less time on the ice means the more time on the team - don't want to be exposed too quickly).
Weaknesses: Not actually believing it when the coach lets me hit the ice ("You're kidding Coach!).
Injury problems: Not staying injured long enough or seeming too injured and being written off. Perhaps a disease of some kind can "happen" so if and when I have to play again, it will be with huge fanfare and low expectations.
Equipment: Determined ferocity. Cane.
Nemesis: Anyone who thinks "talent" or "skill" or "ability" make them better. Trainers and doctors who know what they are doing.
Who I’d face in the Stanley Cup Finals: Whoever else is in the press box. "Cory Cross?! You're still here?"
What I’d do with the Stanley Cup after our victory: Beg the team brass to let me get my name on it too. Then pay off selected media hacks to do the same.
Would the media love me or hate me?: I'd be iconic - and usually available in the press box faking a limp and carrying an (completely unecessary) cane or something. (You know, to stay on the roster but off the ice.) Keeping my name out there (doing every interview, going to every team function or photo-op, being the NHLPA rep) will make fans and team brass assume I should be there just through constant visibility and repetition - I'll create my own mythology. Like Tie Domi did.

Alright. Tag received. Now I'm handing off to Art Vandelay and Sideshow Raheem of OSHL Hockey.