Option 1:

To be fair to the Seattle GM, he wasn't simply singling out Simo. He'd perceived a lack of compete from the entire squad at that point and was already steaming, having been convinced that this year was the year the young squadron took that next big step to become playoff punchers and being - in his words - "let down like a corpse into a goddamned open grave". Everybody on the main roster drew jobs out of a hat: a couple of folks accompanied the maintenance staff on their dirtier jobs, Shadow Fenix picked up a scrubbing brush and went to clean the toilets, and Simo landed the bulbs. And look, you know Simo by this point - furious on the ice, cool and stoic off it - and so, silently, the brick wall of Seattle took the trolley and went a-pushing. He knew that this wasn't a serious demand, to expect a single person to change every bulb in a 20,000 capacity arena in two days was mad; best just let to the big man get it out of his system and take the fury out on everybody else on the ice. Or take another puck to the face, either or.