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

man. When their palms did part, it was all too
sudden.
    Derek looked at Artie. Artie had gone along
with the deal. Derek knew he would, though he was still somewhat
surprised. It wasn't like Artie to take a flyer on something like
this. But there comes a time when the matador has to put away the
red cape and uncap the barbecue sauce. May-Ja-Look had yet to bust
out.
    Artie recognized this was their bull to ride.
Together, they'd scoured the pages of the Hockey Bible and made
some phone calls. They weren't in the typical hockey pool draft
chatted up around the water cooler. Here they were general managers
to living, breathing players. He and Artie would have to perform
like Sam Pollock, Bill Torrey ... nay, God himself ... just to put
together a team that could lace up the skates of the Herculean
club.
    There had been no visions the previous night
as Derek slept. No divine interventions from Dick Irvin, Sr., one
of Montreal's many mentors ... or a visit from the ghost of
penalties past, Bill "Big Whistle" Chadwick, the foghorn-voiced
ex-referee. Otherworldy advice was needed if he were to have any
chance of exorcising the demons that had haunted him since the
accident. Yet a small voice inside told him to prepare for this
hockey game like no other. It would be the most sporting,
nationally accepted and humane method for exacting revenge on one
sonofabitch named Victor Erskine.
    Artie tapped him on the shoulder and pointed
to his watch. Time to pick. Derek looked back to the map and its
flashing red light in Wetaskiwin. They hadn't bothered discussing
strategy. Bellwether Agency didn't have a portfolio on this one.
This was where inbred Canadian chromosomes ransacked a poolie's
stomach, coughing up "gut feelings".
    This fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants approach
was one of their few options, given their shortage of funds. There
had been no advance legwork, no pre-draft scouting trips or
marketing blitzes. But hell, thought Marcotte. This was Canada. You
couldn't slap a puck without hitting someone who played the
game.
    With time winding down, Derek decided to go
with the game plan that wayward hikers, Amelia Earhart and Canadian
pro football's expansion committee adhered to. Aim for
civilization.
    "New Westminster," Derek said.
    Seconds later, the Vancouver suburb turned
white.
    "You may as well say New Guinea," Erskine
said. "You don't have the money to travel to either."
    "Who's traveling anywhere? I'll be busy
logging frequent dialer minutes on my fax machine."
    Marcotte knew they probably had enough money
to fly to the west coast, but he didn't want to tip his hand. Why
waste a trip to Vancouver when Erskine had the resources and
manpower to find half a dozen players in B.C. before Derek and
Artie could say Squamish? Besides, Derek had never been west of
Winnipeg. If he could get Erskine to thinking he knew his way
around western Canada it would allow him to sneak in and steal some
of the areas he was more familiar with in the east.
    It quickly became a game of cat and mouse.
Erskine, the looming big game animal, waiting to pounce ... while
Derek played the prairie ground hog, popping up here and there
across the western half of the map.
    Like a cartoon light bulb signalling an idea,
the twenty-cent light bulb protruding from Wetaskawin, Alberta had
triggered Derek's new strategy. After his partner's fourth straight
pick in northern Saskatchewan, Artie lifted his head from his
laptop, not quite sure what was going on. Had his partner detected
another Floral, Saskatchewan -- birthplace of Gordie Howe? A grain
exchange by the interchange, with more dogs than citizens ...
mortals and mutts with their tongues hanging out at the sight of
the local rink rat? With a wink, Derek let him know things were
under control.
    The ploy worked. Erskine firmly believed that
where there was smoke there was fire. Red Herculean fortresses
quickly encircled the white May-Ja-Look zones on the map as Erskine
used most of his early picks to try and