There's a Shark in My Hockey Pool by Dave Belisle Read Free Book Online

He aimed it at the
provinces projected onto the screen. He'd spared no expense and was
enjoying every minute of it.
    "In establishing the geographic context of
the draft, I'm sure you'll agree that choosing cities and towns
would have been too exhausting a process, while picking provinces
would have eliminated the sport of it. Therefore, for the sake of
argument, we'll use the political map of the country. 295 zones to
divide amongst us. Er ... don't feel you have to visit every one.
That's highly unlikely with the game only a month away and your
being limited to ... bus travel, I presume. Alright then. Once you
pick a zone, you have exclusive rights to the players found within.
As we go along, Bittman here, will put his color graphics in
motion. You have three minutes to make your selections. We'll draft
150 zones today and finish up tomorrow. Your zones will be white,
mine red."
    Erskine turned to Artie.
    "Bittman will provide you with copies of each
of our drafting zones when we're finished."
    Bittman smiled smugly at the mention of his
name.
    Derek shook his head at Erskine.
    "Thanks, but we'll keep our own record. Gerry
had nothing on you when it comes to gerrymandering."
    Erskine shrugged. "It's there if you want it.
The game will be April 30. That gives us two months to organize our
teams. Go ahead. Seize the day."
    "Scarborough Centre," Derek said.
    "Ah. Your home turf. Well, guess who's coming
to dinner. Scarborough East."
    Derek grimaced. There goes the
neighborhood.
     
    ... 3 ...
     
    You can tell a lot about a man by the way he
drafts players in a hockey pool.
    There's the "Cram". He's the guy who stays up
all night studying the stats.
    There's always a "Long Shot Lover" in the
house. He's so sure he has the supreme dark horse, i.e., the rookie
who's going to turn the league on its ear. More often than not, his
flash in the pan is back-burnered to the minors before
Christmas.
    "Mr. Marquee" draws his players from the
nightly highlight reels on the sports shows. The player may only
score five goals a year, but if most of the goals wind up on the 11
p.m. replays, he could be a legitimate third rounder for Mr.
Marquee.
    "Stand Pat" is the poolie who keeps picking
the same players over and over, hoping this is the year they catch
fire.
    "Gramps'" draft list is chock-full of players
over thirty. His "fine wine" theory is abruptly shattered when
another debilitating injury proves that aging players mature like
peanut brittle.
    It's easy to pick out the person at a hockey
draft who hasn't done his homework. He's the poker face staring out
of a manhole cover into the fast-approaching high beams of a snow
plow. A face like that is rare. Most Canadians understand the finer
points of scoring statistics. I.e., in the spring of 1993, being
the leading scorer for Ottawa is like being the best reggae band in
Yellowknife.
    Reading the hockey scoring summaries each
morning carries the joy and agony of the births and obituaries
columns respectively. Players who notch three points or more are
exalted, while those who don't even show up in the penalty minute
section are presumed dead.
    But Marcotte isn't drafting players for an
80-game regular season. He needs them for one game. He was heading
up an all-star team of players who, for the most part, he'd never
seen. It was similar to the old method of choosing up sides for a
hockey game. The players dump their hockey sticks in a pile at
center ice. Half of the sticks are then tossed toward one blue
line, half towards the other. When the players retrieve their
sticks, they know what side of the rink they're defending. This
method of selection may date back to the purges of Stalin.
    The plum contract with Quick Pucks would go
to the winner, while Derek's advertising business was the other
"beer" this game was being waged over. He wouldn't want it any
other way.
    The clock on the wall said 11:10. They'd been
at it for two hours and had an impressive game of Brite-Lite going.
The map of