sound guy, was setting up a microphone stand on a little red carpet for the show.
When their coach cleared his throat, swallowed nervously, and then pulled the microphone close to his mouth, every Owl on the ice froze. The mere idea of Muck wanting to give a real speech in public was beyond their imagining.
“Welcome to the Joe for today’s game –” Muck started. The microphone screeched a blast of high-pitched feedback. He grimaced awkwardly toward his boots and then continued: “I’d like to ask the producers of this reality show, Inez Campano and Brian Evans, to join me here at center ice. A few of our players have something to say to you.”
Both producers looked confused.
What was Muck up to?
They clearly didn’t trust him – he’d been so standoffish and suspicious of them.
But now he wanted to thank them? Make a presentation?
With all of the cameras trained on them – with all of the fans watching – the producers didn’t have much choice but to do as Muck asked.
Brian stepped through the gap in the boards in his running shoes. He shuffled slowly toward Muck, tilting his baseball cap forward to block out the bright lights, while Inez, inching along in high heels, clung to his side.
Muck looked mildly amused as they took their places next to him at the microphone. He waited for the crowd to go quiet. And then, with a quick nod to Roger, the main cameraman, who was standing beside Daniel at the control board, Muck abruptly stepped back from the mike and walked off the ice.
Above the producers’ heads, the bright white TV lights shut off just as the four television screens on the electronic scoreboard flickered on.
Travis, Alex, Wi-Fi, and Sarah got there just in time.
They’d been up in the media room in the top section of the Joe, helping Data work his digital magic. Once they’d cued up Data’s “special” edit of the show’s promo – with the help of Roger and Daniel – they’d raced downstairs, scrambled into their equipment, and burst out of the dressing room so they could be on the ice to watch the show unfold with their teammates.
“
It’s a story of greed almost too real for reality TV
,” ran the voice-over – Mr. D’s best baritone imitation of the “Voice of God” the producers had used in their own edits.
Sarah started giggling immediately.
Shots from the last few days of competition played on all four screens: Jeremy and Jenny wiping out in the goalie race, Cody doing his fancy turns through the pylons, Alex stickhandling deftly through the course, Nish falling on his spin-o-rama attempt, Nish bowling over a half-dozen skaters in the British Bulldog game…
“
Two teams, from different cities and different countries, were brought together by their love of the game
,” Mr. D’s voice continued over the images. “
But the creators of this competition didn’t share that love. For them, it was all about
…”
Cut to Nish chanting “
Monnn-ey! Monnn-ey!
” at Green Dot Stables restaurant – the shot of him yelling with half a chewed Korean slider in his mouth. Then, with full sound – Daniel had made sure of it – Wi-Fi’s shot of Brian and Inez bickering by the side of the rink over how to “develop” their underdog story.
Underneath the scoreboard, Brian just stared at the screens as the images went by. Inez’s eyes were darting everywhere as she teetered on her heels, fuming. No one in the audience moved. Like Brian, their eyes were trained on the screens above.
And there was more.
Next on the screen: a clip of Brian and Inez whisper-yelling at each other near the bathrooms at Green Dot Stables. Roger had recorded it secretly, but on purpose, while the players were busy lining up to do their video journals. “In case it ever came in handy,” he’d said, smiling, as he’d handed it over to Data in the editing booth.
“If we hadn’t gotten that kid Nish’s audition tape and come up with this ridiculous show,” Brian hissed in the video clip,
When their coach cleared his throat, swallowed nervously, and then pulled the microphone close to his mouth, every Owl on the ice froze. The mere idea of Muck wanting to give a real speech in public was beyond their imagining.
“Welcome to the Joe for today’s game –” Muck started. The microphone screeched a blast of high-pitched feedback. He grimaced awkwardly toward his boots and then continued: “I’d like to ask the producers of this reality show, Inez Campano and Brian Evans, to join me here at center ice. A few of our players have something to say to you.”
Both producers looked confused.
What was Muck up to?
They clearly didn’t trust him – he’d been so standoffish and suspicious of them.
But now he wanted to thank them? Make a presentation?
With all of the cameras trained on them – with all of the fans watching – the producers didn’t have much choice but to do as Muck asked.
Brian stepped through the gap in the boards in his running shoes. He shuffled slowly toward Muck, tilting his baseball cap forward to block out the bright lights, while Inez, inching along in high heels, clung to his side.
Muck looked mildly amused as they took their places next to him at the microphone. He waited for the crowd to go quiet. And then, with a quick nod to Roger, the main cameraman, who was standing beside Daniel at the control board, Muck abruptly stepped back from the mike and walked off the ice.
Above the producers’ heads, the bright white TV lights shut off just as the four television screens on the electronic scoreboard flickered on.
Travis, Alex, Wi-Fi, and Sarah got there just in time.
They’d been up in the media room in the top section of the Joe, helping Data work his digital magic. Once they’d cued up Data’s “special” edit of the show’s promo – with the help of Roger and Daniel – they’d raced downstairs, scrambled into their equipment, and burst out of the dressing room so they could be on the ice to watch the show unfold with their teammates.
“
It’s a story of greed almost too real for reality TV
,” ran the voice-over – Mr. D’s best baritone imitation of the “Voice of God” the producers had used in their own edits.
Sarah started giggling immediately.
Shots from the last few days of competition played on all four screens: Jeremy and Jenny wiping out in the goalie race, Cody doing his fancy turns through the pylons, Alex stickhandling deftly through the course, Nish falling on his spin-o-rama attempt, Nish bowling over a half-dozen skaters in the British Bulldog game…
“
Two teams, from different cities and different countries, were brought together by their love of the game
,” Mr. D’s voice continued over the images. “
But the creators of this competition didn’t share that love. For them, it was all about
…”
Cut to Nish chanting “
Monnn-ey! Monnn-ey!
” at Green Dot Stables restaurant – the shot of him yelling with half a chewed Korean slider in his mouth. Then, with full sound – Daniel had made sure of it – Wi-Fi’s shot of Brian and Inez bickering by the side of the rink over how to “develop” their underdog story.
Underneath the scoreboard, Brian just stared at the screens as the images went by. Inez’s eyes were darting everywhere as she teetered on her heels, fuming. No one in the audience moved. Like Brian, their eyes were trained on the screens above.
And there was more.
Next on the screen: a clip of Brian and Inez whisper-yelling at each other near the bathrooms at Green Dot Stables. Roger had recorded it secretly, but on purpose, while the players were busy lining up to do their video journals. “In case it ever came in handy,” he’d said, smiling, as he’d handed it over to Data in the editing booth.
“If we hadn’t gotten that kid Nish’s audition tape and come up with this ridiculous show,” Brian hissed in the video clip,
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