This time Coach reacts the way I would expect to the interruption.
“Yeah, and like I was saying,” he glares at our new teammate. “It isn’t a simple process, and the league commissioner made it clear that the fee would be nearing two billion dollars for a new franchise. That’s in addition to everything else.”
“Two billion?” I gasp.
Coach’s stony gaze meets mine and I pipe down, fighting the urge to squirm in my seat.
“Yes, two billion to be paid to the NHL commission. Bergen and Mayor Hunter are spearheading the effort. Their plan is to begin building the infrastructure needed for an expansion team, starting with a new arena. The land for it has already been secured, but that’s not everything. Last year they built a brand new, state-of-the-art hockey training facility on the west side of town. The brand new center is destined to be the home of the new NHL team, but for now it has been offered to the Cove Knights for our summer training. It has a practice rink, gym and PT facilities and even living quarters for the players and staff.”
That sounds exciting.
This time neither Prescott nor I say anything, waiting for Coach to continue.
“They want to make as much of a splash as possible, showing that Star Cove is truly passionate about hockey. So they’re also recruiting for a cheerleading team.”
“Snow Girls?” Prescott chuckles. “Fuck, yeah.”
If a look could kill, the Cove Knights’ goalie would be reduced to a pile of ashes in front of my very eyes.
“Not Snow Girls. Cheerleading has been extremely limited in hockey so far, especially compared to sports like football.” Coach’s jaw ticks as he ignores the outburst. “From what I was told, they’re recruiting professional dancers. They aren’t interested in the girls cleaning up the snow between periods or stuff like that. They want a team that will perform at every game like some of the famous cheerleading teams in football. They’ll be the face of the Cove Knights first, and eventually they’ll cheer for the new NHL team.”
Prescott rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, Coach. So yeah, that sounds really cool. But if the new NHL team isn’t happening this year, how does all of this help me?”
“I’m getting to it if you stop the commentary.” Coach growls. “Usually there would be a couple of weeks between the end of the academic year and our summer training camp. But this year our summer program will be expanded, and we’ll start next week. As part of the plan to draw attention to Star Cove’s hockey, the alumni decided to sponsor the team. We’re getting brand new equipment and redesigned uniforms. With the approval of the NCAA, rather than the usual couple of practice games we do at the end of summer training, this year there will be a mini summer tournament. A few exhibition games with other local college teams.”
I have a few questions, but I don’t want to piss off Coach Harrison before I even lace up my skates, so I raise my hand.
The corners of Coach’s lips curl up in a barely there smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yes, Belkin. Go ahead.”
“When you say local teams, do you mean other collegiate teams?”
“Yes. As far as I know, the teams that have agreed to participate so far are our Community College team, UCLA, San Diego and Stockton.”
Prescott rolls his eyes, but this time seeks permission to speak like I just did. “What about Bridgeport?”
Coach Harrison’s gaze darkens. “Things in Bridgeport are on shaky ground right now. I’m sure you saw in the news that their team captain was arrested recently for assault and a slew of other charges. Recently Bridgeport’s Dean was killed during a standoff with the police.”
Everyone has heard about how Bridgeport’s late dean exploited the most elite athletes at his school, amassing a huge fortune by building a social media empire that thrived on their talent.
“Bridgeport is a private college, like Star Cove,” Coach explains. “The university has been put under temporary administration as the police conclude their investigation. From what has been reported, there was a widespread and significant misappropriation of funds, and the university is in huge financial trouble. There are rumors of a total closure. So it’s safe to say that the decade long rivalry between Star Cove and Bridgeport might come to an untimely end.”
South Carolina and California are in two different conferences, so I’ve only ever played against Bridgeport once in the playoffs my freshman year. They played a hard and physical game, a real tough team with no qualms about fighting, especially if the referees weren’t paying attention.
“Coach,” Prescott looks uneasy. “Sorry for interrupting you again. This sounds very exciting, but you still haven’t answered my question about my situation.”
Coach Harrison slams his palm on his desk. “I’m getting to it, dammit.” He opens a folder on his desk, pushing one sheet of paper toward me and one toward my teammate. “As part of the effort to boost the visibility and popularity of Star Cove as a hockey town, a reality show is going to be filmed this summer. It’s going to document your summer training, the tournament at the end, and the cheer team selection and their own training camp. I made sure the crew is going to be present at selected times only, so they aren’t going to hinder our training. You can opt out of being filmed, if you wish.”
I hesitate with the pen Coach offered me, hovering over the dotted line. I came here to play hockey, fly under the radar until it’s time to turn pro, hopefully with the NHL team that drafted me. After last year’s near miss scandal, is it wise to be on TV?
“If you opt in,” Coach says more to Prescott than to me. “You’re going to be paid for every episode that’s filmed, whether it airs on TV or not. The show will consist of ten episodes, and if you opt in, each of you will get a mid five figure sum when everything is said and done.”
My student loans should cover most of my expenses, but this money would go a long way toward making my last two years of college more enjoyable. Especially since California is way more expensive than South Carolina.
“Mid five figures?” Prescott gasps. “That’s around 50k. It would pay for the two classes I need to retake and my living expenses.”
The look on Coach’s face is far from delighted, but he confirms that my teammate is correct. “That’s why I told you that I had you covered, son. Having a filming crew on site is going to be a pain in the ass, but the Dean and the alumni,including the mayor, are on board with this whole plan, so might as well benefit from it.”
“Thank you, Coach!” Prescott signs the contract with a flourish. “You saved my life.”
