Between now and the July 1 free agency period, Lowe would love to add a pair of top-six forwards and a quality defenceman.
Lots of people think there's a better chance of doing that via the trade market than by free agency and Lowe has a lot of currency from which to deal.
He has the three first round picks and an entire roster of players that are not untouchable especially after the way the team finished the season after the Ryan Smyth trade.
The Oilers would love to get a guy like Brad Richards from the Lightning. With Tampa's expanding budget, Richards isn't likely available but that's the type of splashy and bold move that Lowe would like to pull off.
There's no guarantee that a big Oiler trade will happen, and if one doesn't, it won't be for a lack of trying.
For TSN.ca, I'm Bob McKenzie.
There are teams looking to make a change or who want to be active on the FA market or who are looking to rebuild.
In other words Lowe will have plenty of trading partners, I think.
Too many holes and too big a hole to climb out of to get back to the top of that mountain next year. But make the right moves and maybe two or three or four years down the road the Oilers can do what Carolina did last year and what Anaheim looks ready to do this year, return to finish the job.
Can it be done? Well, let me offer an anecdote from my own experience to illustrate the possibilities. The parallels between my own experience and what has happened to the Oilers are so uncanny, I dare anyone to not see the possibilities.
Ok, so here's the situation. My parents went away for a week's vacation.
Sorry, wrong story.
Summer is arriving here and a sure sign of this is the huge increase in panhandlers. Now, they're no drug addicted zombie hoboes like those that plague downtown Edmonton but they are everywhere.
I've actually had two instances where they have come to my door. Once was a number of years back. Two women, stinking of booze, tried to con me into giving money for a legitimate charity. Of course I loosed the hound upon them. As he tore out one's liver and feasted on it, blood and bile squirting all over my daughter's tricycle, I realized that it wasn't two boozy bums who had knocked on my door, it had been opportunity. There was money to be made off of them there bums. As my dog chowed down on kidneys and colon, I closed the door and began to formulate a plan.
It was easy really, There is a ravine near our street. This was to be our arena. I had plenty of neighbours looking for cheap thrills. And we had plenty of bums to exploit.
I had an ace in the hole, however. One weekend while on a cocaine fueled bender I had spent some time crashed in a park. There I had stumbled on an enormabum, a giant from Samoa. Like so many others from central Europe he had come to Canada looking for a better life. Fate had conspired against him and so he found himself homeless in a park, surviving by eating squirrels, raccoons and city parks workers. I convinced him to come and sleep under my porch. I would feed him and he could live rent free (if he paid me even a dollar he would no longer be considered homeless) as long as he represented my household in the bumfighting league.
As you can well imagine I had complete success that first season. Nobody could stand before my Samoan. I made oodles of money and I was the toast of the neighbourhood. Small children cheered and their mothers lifted their skirts to me in tribute. My opponents, my friends and neighbours, begrudgingly could do nothing but smile and tickle my balls in tribute. And then, just days after my greatest triumph, our victory in the year end tournament, disaster struck.
One of our newer neighbours, just moved in from California, had seen my weakness and exploited it. Under his own porch he had installed hot and cold running poi and had also arranged for a Samoan escort service to make regular visits to his home. The end result was that my man, Koa Wakapululupupululuku asked me for a trade. There was nothing I could do but comply with his request. With the new season just around the corner my so called neighbour had my balls in a vise and he was squeezing hard. Against my better judgement I caved into his demand and moved the Samoan. The return was meagre. A scrawny Czech teenager, a transvestite hooker and future draftpicks.
The fall from grace was swift. The only thing left to comfort me was my winnings from the previous season. Neither of my new acquisitions was much on the circuit. The Czech was game but I could tell the shemale's heart wasn't quite in it.
And then, Lady Luck smiled.
Coming back from McCarthy's after a half dozen pints, I heard the unmistakable sound of Andy Grabia having sex with a bag lady behind the Piggly Wiggly. It was a sound I knew all too well. Grabia had been a legend on the bum fighting circuit but his love of filthy bag ladies and huffing Pam had sent him down the toilet on a filthy slide of shit and pus.
As I watched him make love to the dirty old hobo I suddenly realized that Grabia's rights were still owned by one of my neighbour's who had taken him as a flyer late in our expansion draft. This neighbour had lost his job and was in danger of losing his home. He had been sliding on the circuit, his only remaining bum a scabby old drunk with one eye.
The stench was overwhelming. As I urinated on the two of them to try and lessen the awful odour, I asked Grabia if he was looking to get back in the game. A mountain of a man, with cat like reflexes and the ferocity of a wild animal, I knew that if I could get him focussed, he was my ticket back to the top. As he completed his daily rounds, this most handsome of scabby panhandlers gave me a toothy smile and affirmed that he was indeed ready, aye, ready.
The rest is history. I packaged up my picks, my hooker and my Czech teenager and moved them to my neighbour for his scabby old bum and the rights to Grabia. Everyone thought I was crazy but the end result was win win for everyone. My neighbour was able to keep his house as he no longer had to pay for his scabby old veteran. I had the rights to Grabia and of course I could afford the cap hit. Of course I fed the old bum to the dog which was also quite enjoyable for everyone. Except for the bum, I guess.
Grabia crushed the Samoan in their first battle. It was vicious but Koa Akupukujukululununu was no match for the Albertan's ferocity. Grabia bit off his nose in the frenzy. Victory was his and mine.
The only minus is that I have to listen to Grabia having sex with bag ladies under my porch night in and night out. The smell of gangrene becomes a little much at times but that's the way he likes them so what am I to say?
The moral of this story for you Oil fans? Well, clearly there are a number of lessons to be learned. Lets review.
Andy Grabia is not the man you thought he was.
Sex with bag ladies can be enjoyable.
Samoans are lousy no good sellouts.
Bumfighting is an enjoyable hobby where you can make money and, best of all, nobody gets hurt.
And you can move a lot of cheap, seemingly worthless assets for an important piece to the puzzle if you find the right situation.
Do you see what I'm saying?