Basement Bargain Price Leafs for Sale

By Richard Mousseau

Where is the passion for the playing of the game, the quality of play and the proudness of achieving the Stanley Cup? I must admit that every era of hockey has faults, corruption, integrity, pleasures, success and defeats. For me it is the illusion of a child’s imagination of what the game meant that is lost.
Currently, attention to hockey has been the status of jokes, that the Leafs will never win the Stanley Cup again. Yet fans of the Leafs are steadfast and true. Imagine the bragging rights of true fans if the Leafs succeeded. Not one to be boisterous I would be one to root for the underdog and be pleased to see the Leafs win.
How?
Headlines blossomed when the end of the Twenty-twelve regular season left the Leafs at the bottom of the basement in points. A frustrated owner, when bombarded with innuendoes, sneered. A mad dog’s growl and foaming jowls silenced the bravest person when the Leafs’ owner, Mr. Smithe sputtered a marketable quote.
"Basement bargain price, Leafs for sale!”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Moose Hide Books imprint of Moose Enterprise Publishing
• Release date: Oct 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781927393161

Book preview

Basement Bargain Price Leafs for Sale

BASEMENT BARGAIN PRICE LEAFS FOR SALE

BASEMENT

BARGAIN

PRICE

LEAFS

FOR SALE

a novel by

RICHARD MOUSSEAU

MOOSE HIDE BOOKS

imprint of

MOOSE ENTERPRISE PUBLISHING

PRINCE TOWNSHIP

ONTARIO, CANADA

cover illustration by Richard Mousseau

BASEMENT BARGAIN PRICE LEAFS FOR SALE

by

Richard Mousseau

Copyright May 8, 2012

Published June 1, 2013

by

MOOSE HIDE BOOKS

imprint of

MOOSE ENTERPRISE PUBLISHING

684 WALLS ROAD

PRINCE TOWNSHIP

ONTARIO, CANADA

P6A 6K4

web site www.moosehidebooks.com

NO VENTURE UNATTAINABLE

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED, THIS INCLUDES STORING IN RETRIEVAL SYSTEM OR TRANSMITTED IN ANY FORM BY ELECTRONIC MEANS, MECHANICAL, PHOTOCOPYING, RECORDING OR OTHER, WITHOUT THE WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THIS PUBLISHER.

THIS BOOK IS A WORK OF FICTION, NAMES, CHARACTERS, PLACES AND INCIDENTS ARE EITHER PRODUCTS OF THE AUTHOR’S IMAGINATION OR ARE USED FICTITIOUSLY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL EVENTS OR LOCALES OR PERSONS, LIVING OR DECEASED, IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL.

CREATED IN CANADA

Second Edition

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Mousseau, Richard E.

Basement bargain price Leafs for sale [electronic resource]

/ Richard Mousseau.

Electronic monograph in PDF format.

Issued also in print format.

ISBN 978-1-927393-16-1

I. Title

PS8576.0977B37 2013C813'.54C2013-901571-X

BASEMENT

BARGAIN

PRICE

LEAFS

FOR SALE

ONE

Our black and white television screen flickered with specks of white, reminiscent of snowflakes falling on a winter’s night. A black speck could barely be seen against the white surface of a hockey rink. Yet Dad knew where it was going. He would lean forward when his team of choice, the Montreal Canadians, were advancing up the ice. Profanity was spoken in French when the Habs made a mistake. Leaning back into the sofa, Dad would pout, reminiscent of Grandma’s mannerism, when the rival Leafs took control of the le-rondelle. Silence prevailed in the living-room, only the crackling voice of the play-by-play announcer’s energized voice, regardless of team, echoed hollow from the television speaker.

Dad leaned forward, then I knew the good team had control of the puck, the black speck being slapped toward a fat guy blocking a net had potential. ‘He scores, he scores, Ri`chard has scored,’ screamed the announcer pronouncing the player’s name with a French pronunciation. Pleased with success, Dad relaxed, crossed legs and took a sip of a foam headed glass of beer. The only taste allowed for me at the age of eight was the bubbled foam from the head of the freshly poured beer. Funny how the mind works, I remember the label of the Ole-Vienna, a blue label, brewed by Molson Brewers, definitely associated with Quebec, Montreal and the Habs team.

Obviously Dad was a Habs fan, so I became for no other reason than emulating Father. Having the same name as a Habs player was a bonus, though I was addressed Richard with the English pronunciations. It did not matter to me that Richard was my first name and Maurice’s last name was Ri`chard.

The late nineteen-fifties was a lifetime ago, and I think sons emulated their fathers. It was on the snow covered street when kids gathered to play street hockey that the world of NHL hockey unfolded and favourite players’ names were as diverse as were the neighbourhood kids. I was Ri`chard, always announced in a French accent, Billy was the Gump, Terry was Chico Maki, Gerry was Gordie Howe, Walter was Stan Makita. Players’ names were prominent despite which team they played for. In street hockey it was one dream team against another.

Bragging rights only came at the end of the season when the Stanley Cup was won, and yearly statistics were easily accumulated. Hockey interest waned for me during the progressing years when the NHL expanded and the number of players increased. When players were traded and the longevity of player and team association came down to money and winning, is when I lost complete interest.

Where is the passion for the playing of the game, the quality of play and the proudness of achieving the Stanley Cup? I must admit that every era of hockey, those that govern, those that play and those that observe have their faults, corruption, integrity, pleasures, success and defeats. For me it is the illusion of a child’s imagination of what the game meant that is lost.

Currently, attention to hockey has been the status of jokes, puns, insinuations, making fun of and laughing at the fact that the Leafs will never win the Stanley Cup again. Life of others, that lack success is now associated in comparison to the lack of success of the Leafs, nil!! Yet fans of the Leafs are steadfast and true. Imagine the bragging rights of true fans if the Leafs succeeded. Not one to be boisterous and visually or verbally exuberant, I would be one to root for the underdog and be pleased to see the Leafs win.

How?

Headlines blossomed when the end of the Twenty-twelve regular season left the Leafs at the bottom of the basement in points. A frustrated owner, when bombarded with questions that contained more innuendoes, snubs and jokes than actual interest in acquiring in-depth insight, sneered. A mad dog’s growl and foaming jowls will silence the bravest person. Sports reporters stood stiffly, mouths agape and arms holding microphones extended waiting for the Leafs’ owner, Mr. Smithe sputter a marketable quote.

Basement bargain price, Leafs for sale!

TWO

An opportunist is a person who has an open mind, has an ear listening to any conversation hinting at a possible opportunity. A gambler will gamble looking for a payoff without considering liquidation of funds used to win big. An opportunist will use learned skills, willing to use own funds and that of investors on a promising venture, expecting to recoup investment and make a big profit, then get out of the venture and move onto the next hot idea.

Aging with dignity and letting the grey consume hair and short cropped beard, sixty-year-old Nicholas Baptist bent an ear back against a dinning room divider. Hockey terms filled the conversation of two elderly men who continued talking while placing their food order. The subject must not be of importance for care was not taken to hide details from the waitress. Would she be interested in expenses of operating a hockey franchise and stadium, though she did linger longer than required, organizing and tidying up the table, as if an ear craved the hockey talk.

Baptist tapped the screen of a computer pad, drawing up the daily sports headings. Scanning the text, his eyes fell upon the names of the next tables gentlemen and the basic subject matter.

Mr. Smithe, you have to retract your statement. People, fans will be upset. Hell, the sports reporters will milk your statement, twist it, put hidden meanings into it just to irritate us and instigate water cooler talk, informed Frank Tobin in a whispered voice.

Frank, bellowed Smithe, a tone he spoke in, regardless of the conversation being private or public. How long have we been friends? You know me. I got into this racket to make money and to win. This team does not win!

Baptist read the headline at the same time Frank Tobin said, You can’t go saying, ‘Basement bargain price, Leafs for sale’.

‘Bargain price,’ Baptist thought.

When someone says bargain, it is advertisement that the business is not doing well, or that the owner is fed up with operations and has lost interest. It is imperative for an opportunist to pounce at this moment of vulnerability and distract the potential prey. A deal must be presented and closed before the subject has time to think of reconsideration. Baptist’s finger flashed through the text as eyes picked out prominent facts while an ear continued to listen.

Concessions and ticket sales are great, the arena makes money, but I want the prestige of having a winning team. Angry hands pulled at suit coat lapels as Smithe’s dark eyes scanned the dining room. He nodded indifferently to patrons and hockey league associates. No doubt all were discussing his statement. I am not going to spend a fortune on a team that does not win!

Your statement has put the team on the market. Every want-to-be owner will be termites chewing their way up your legs until you cave and sell, said Frank, a hand patting the comb-over hair hiding a balding crown.

I’ve spent sixty million for one season. While players are out goofing off, the arena is empty, generating no income. A year of monster truck, motor cross and the Baily Circus with Elephants shitting willy-nilly will make me the same arena revenue.

Both men fell silent for they had reached an impasse in a discussion that had no benefit either way. The arriving waitress placed alcoholic drinks on the table and a tray of appetisers. A meal would be forthcoming and Baptist knew that the moment to pounce was now. Nicholas Baptist, entrepreneur, had no plan, no insight into the problem of the Leafs nor a means of correcting the problem. An announcement of sixty million dollars was all the incentive Baptist needed to force him to rise from the table.

Self-confidence and the ability to think at the same moment of talking is a gift. Baptist has this gift along with hockey ingrained as a rite of passage of being born a Canadian. Well the basics of hockey he retained and like any other fan has expressed opinions. Like any fan’s thinking, ‘If given the opportunity could do no worse than the worse team, worse coach, manager, scout and owner.’. Baptist’s opinion is that skill and passion for the game is all that is needed for a winning team.

Boldly, yet presenting a polite mannerism, Baptist exited the tabled booth and approached the two silent men.

Mr. Smithe, Mr. Tobin, Nicholas Baptist. For one million dollars I will give you a winning team. If I do not, you lose nothing and I walk away.

THREE

If a sure thing falls into your lap it is too good to be true, walk away, fast. Opportunist do not think this way, and Mr. Smithe is an opportunist. Listening to a scam artist or an insurance agent or an info sales person selling the latest gadget to remove lint from belly buttons is all the same. Never buy the product, rather invest and ride the coat tails of profit then bail before losing. Mr. Smithe would listen to Baptist based on two facts, ‘can’t lose, and gaining a winning team.’. Wanting, craving, demanding and often praying for a winning team overrides any minor investment, especially when investment is returned, win or lose.

There was a brief pause, a pause that seems to be an eternity, a pause that Baptist expected and knew how to milk and when to interrupt by advancing the pitch. Baptist clasped hands in front in a casual stance and made pleasing, unthreatening eye contact with the owner of the Leafs hockey team. Frank Tobin sized up Baptist, observing the slight smile, not a full face pleading smile nor a down turned grin of aggression. Mr. Smithe held a patten on the down turn scowl whether angry or pleased.

Taking a sip of a dark alcoholic drink in a stubby glass, Mr. Smithe exhaled. Facial expression did not change, no indication of pondering Baptist’s presentation. Dark eyes slowly moved from the drink to appetizers, Tobin, the haze of dim light from the dinning room chandeliers to the many heads of curious hockey associates fixating on himself and Baptist. Surely inquisitive ears had heard portions of Baptist’s pitch. How much had they heard?

Uncharacteristically of Mr. Smithe’s boisterous voice, he whispered, almost inaudible. Please, Mr. . . . Baptist, join us.

Baptist accepted and shook Mr. Smithe’s hand and that of a bewildered Frank Tobin. Optimizing position, Baptist sat directly across from Mr. Smithe where eye contact would be imperative. A fraud can be detected when eyes wander and waver from making direct contact. Each man knew the rules and intended to scrutinize the other. Tobin felt left out of the meeting as a participant, more of a tennis net referee bobbing his head from one man to another.

When the waitress inquired if the gentleman wanted further drinks, Mr. Smithe and Tobin acknowledged. Baptist requested water, a need to stay clear headed. Let the prey be influenced by alcoholic stimulus. Mr. Smithe’s glass teetered on the edge of the table and fell with intent to smash on the floor. A quick hand snatched the glass in mid air fall preventing the ice from falling out. Baptist nodded appreciation to the young woman and made note of the name tag, Patricia Lárue. He would later thank her for preventing an interruption to his pitch.

Partaking of food is a must in any negotiation, it is the symbolisms of breaking bread together that binds the parties. Baptist accepted Mr. Smithe’s gesture to sample the appetizers.

Dinning room talk had seemed to simmer as if ears of inquisitive counter parts strained to hear the conversation at Mr. Smithe’s table. Mr. Smithe and Baptist were willing to wait out the silence, Baptist intentionally leaving a continuation of a conversation to Mr. Smithe.

Though different in personalities and outlook on life and how they lived life, both enjoyed the chase of adventure in the business world. What did they know about the hockey business? Absolutely nothing, other than being Canadians and strapping on skates as soon as they could walk, then playing the game, watching the game and constantly willing to debate the game, players, scouts and owners.

Mr. Smithe made his business fortune in soap, laundry soap, then bought his way into the ownership of the Leafs. As owner it is prestige, bragging rights and glory when the team wins the Stanley Cup. It takes money to buy the best coaches and players and backing personnel to run the show. Mr. Smithe made a show of bickering and accusing each and every employee when not pleased with results. Facts prove that, though he has an opinion, that he would be unable to scout and select players, coach players and let alone be adept at being a coach. A business man, yes, and good at it. Mr. Smithe aimed to buy a winning team.

Though self made and financially stable, his fortune was his, not to be shared and his business goal was to make more money. Building an empire was foremost a destination.

Similarities between Mr. Smithe and Nicholas Baptist began at the same point in a Canadian era. Born into working class families of multiple siblings. Mr. Smithe struggling and fighting for self preservation. Baptist struggling for the survival of the family as a whole. This fact carries Baptist through life, the struggle for the benefit of all not just for self satisfaction and personal riches. The chase of, through any process is what Baptist craved. Sure success is always rewarding, but