Read Online Reality Check in Detroit by Roy Macgregor - Free Book Online
Authors: Roy Macgregor
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over the head with their sticks and see stars when they were knocked silly.
Nish was howling with laughter, but it made Travis cringe. This wasn’t hockey; this was someone’s idea of hockey who had never played the game. Where was the beauty? Where was the fun? This was just head-bashing and laughing at people who got knocked out. Travis knew all about getting hit in the head. It had happened to him in Pittsburgh, and it had once almost ended Sidney Crosby’s brilliant NHL career. Nothing funny in that, Travis thought.
Muck sometimes talked to the Owls about shots to the head. He said he began playing back when players didn’t have to wear helmets, so most didn’t. He told them his old teammate Paul Henderson had been laughed at for wearing a helmet, but today Paul Henderson is one of the most honored and loved hockey players in history. He told them they used to laugh off a hit to the head back then, and say a player had “had his bell rung.” But now they know that concussions are no joke, and head shots have become hockey’s ultimate no-no.
The cartoon got more and more ridiculous. Jet fighters dive-bombed over the rink. A whale burst up through the ice and dived back down again. And still players clobbered each other left and right until most of them had been knocked silly.
When it was over, Nish stood, clapping and cheering, and several of the others – Fahd, Andy, Wilson – stood as well. It was only a cartoon, thought Travis, but still; it was crazy what some people would do for entertainment. At least the producers of
Goals & Dreams
weren’t asking them to throw in extra fights for ratings. So far, the Owls had only been asked to wear makeup and to sometimes redo a shot if the camera had missed it, but that was it.
Muck stood up, clicked off the television, and simply stared at Nish until he melted back into his seat, red-faced and quiet.
Muck sat back down without a word.
None necessary.
Travis had never seen anything like the Henry Ford estate. It was
huge
– larger than any farm he had ever visited. The house was like a castle, with heavy limestone walls – “Fifty-six rooms, including its own bowling alley,” Data called out as he read from his ever-present smartphone – and it overlooked a river that had been dammed to power the estate’s very own hydroelectric plant.
At the back of the large, snow-covered gardens, an outdoor rink had been erected, with real boards, lines in the ice, face-off circles, and two new regulation goal nets. Some of the boards around the sides had holes carved in them, covered in Plexiglas, so that the production crew could film the action as if they were right in the middle of it. There seemed to be cameras everywhere. For the next segment of
Goals & Dreams
, they had really pulled out all the stops.
Trailers were set up haphazardly in the parking lot – nothing like the perfect straight line of portables outside Tamarack Public School – and there was a lot of activity. A buffet food station had even been set up to feed all the camera and sound workers who would be filming the afternoon events.
The producers wanted the Owls to come into the largest trailer, which they called their war room. Inside were a couple of dozen chairs and, pasted up all over the walls, charts showing the story line of the episodes they had already shot and aired, and the episode that would be shot today.
“What’s with all the Nish?” Sarah whispered in Travis’s ear as they entered the room.
Travis had noticed, too. There were photos taped up everywhere as well, and it was surprising how many of them involved Money, the big, loudmouthed defenseman of the Owls.
But Nish wasn’t the only one featured. There was a photo of Sarah pasted right next to one of Hollywood, Cody Kelly. And there was even one shot of Travis putting on his jersey, his head just bumping out an impression as he was pulling it on.
Travis shuddered. They don’t know I kiss the Screech Owls crest from
Nish was howling with laughter, but it made Travis cringe. This wasn’t hockey; this was someone’s idea of hockey who had never played the game. Where was the beauty? Where was the fun? This was just head-bashing and laughing at people who got knocked out. Travis knew all about getting hit in the head. It had happened to him in Pittsburgh, and it had once almost ended Sidney Crosby’s brilliant NHL career. Nothing funny in that, Travis thought.
Muck sometimes talked to the Owls about shots to the head. He said he began playing back when players didn’t have to wear helmets, so most didn’t. He told them his old teammate Paul Henderson had been laughed at for wearing a helmet, but today Paul Henderson is one of the most honored and loved hockey players in history. He told them they used to laugh off a hit to the head back then, and say a player had “had his bell rung.” But now they know that concussions are no joke, and head shots have become hockey’s ultimate no-no.
The cartoon got more and more ridiculous. Jet fighters dive-bombed over the rink. A whale burst up through the ice and dived back down again. And still players clobbered each other left and right until most of them had been knocked silly.
When it was over, Nish stood, clapping and cheering, and several of the others – Fahd, Andy, Wilson – stood as well. It was only a cartoon, thought Travis, but still; it was crazy what some people would do for entertainment. At least the producers of
Goals & Dreams
weren’t asking them to throw in extra fights for ratings. So far, the Owls had only been asked to wear makeup and to sometimes redo a shot if the camera had missed it, but that was it.
Muck stood up, clicked off the television, and simply stared at Nish until he melted back into his seat, red-faced and quiet.
Muck sat back down without a word.
None necessary.
Travis had never seen anything like the Henry Ford estate. It was
huge
– larger than any farm he had ever visited. The house was like a castle, with heavy limestone walls – “Fifty-six rooms, including its own bowling alley,” Data called out as he read from his ever-present smartphone – and it overlooked a river that had been dammed to power the estate’s very own hydroelectric plant.
At the back of the large, snow-covered gardens, an outdoor rink had been erected, with real boards, lines in the ice, face-off circles, and two new regulation goal nets. Some of the boards around the sides had holes carved in them, covered in Plexiglas, so that the production crew could film the action as if they were right in the middle of it. There seemed to be cameras everywhere. For the next segment of
Goals & Dreams
, they had really pulled out all the stops.
Trailers were set up haphazardly in the parking lot – nothing like the perfect straight line of portables outside Tamarack Public School – and there was a lot of activity. A buffet food station had even been set up to feed all the camera and sound workers who would be filming the afternoon events.
The producers wanted the Owls to come into the largest trailer, which they called their war room. Inside were a couple of dozen chairs and, pasted up all over the walls, charts showing the story line of the episodes they had already shot and aired, and the episode that would be shot today.
“What’s with all the Nish?” Sarah whispered in Travis’s ear as they entered the room.
Travis had noticed, too. There were photos taped up everywhere as well, and it was surprising how many of them involved Money, the big, loudmouthed defenseman of the Owls.
But Nish wasn’t the only one featured. There was a photo of Sarah pasted right next to one of Hollywood, Cody Kelly. And there was even one shot of Travis putting on his jersey, his head just bumping out an impression as he was pulling it on.
Travis shuddered. They don’t know I kiss the Screech Owls crest from
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