Letters to people I don't know

Dear Team Canada/USA
and some others,
hockey is a beautiful game. It is in fact, the fastest team sport on the planet. What it is not, is a game of 'who hits hardest'. Body checking is optional and in some cases very welcome (except by the person being body checked, I would imagine), however, it is not mandatory. In most cases, as evidenced by your games, it is very unnecessary. Especially right before the period end, but then again, you're known for getting penalties at the worst possible moments (See last year's Canada vs. Russia finals. I almost felt sorry for Nash. Almost. But not quite.).
Also, you know that blue colored part of ice in front of the goal? It is not a place where you can stand and hit the puck into the goalie repeatedly in hopes of it crossing the line. You are NOT SUPPOSED to stand in there, ever!
Please to be learning the rules of the game,
No love,
Me

Dear Sidney Crosby,
you're good. I give you that. However, you are not all that. Please, in the name of Mario Lemieux, get off your goddamn high horse and find a clue.
No love whatsoever,
Me

Dear Russian players in Washington,
I get it, you got the World Cup last year, now it's time for the Stanley Cup. Still, I was hoping to see you in Switzerland. Now instead, I am forced to watch the NHL playoff which is really not my cup of tea, just so I can get my Ovie fix.
As I am a European chick, I'm sure you can understand the North American hockey isn't my favorite thing in the world. I'm sacrificing myself for you here! So you better win or we're gonna have a serious talk.
Conflicted love,
Me

P.S.
And I'm not a Caps fan! I have forsaken my darling Ducks (and Selanne, how I do miss you) for the sake of Mother Russia. Which was my father's plan since he gave his only daughter a russian name way back when. So really, I had no choice, did I?
Still conflicted,
Me

Dear Eric Kripke, Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles and various other Supernatural-related people I don't really know,
you're gonna make me cry, aren't you?
This Friday, you're going to tear out, salt and burn my heart and reduce me into a sobbing pile of fangirl mess and give me so many issues there is no possible way I could survive the summer, won't you?
See, I know this, because this is the very thing you do to me every year since I started watching your goddamn show. And I should hate you for it. Really, I should.
Damn you, Kripke,
Me

P.S.
Bobby lives, right? Right?
Damn,
Me