Post by Bruce "The Beast" Richards on Mar 17, 2007 14:42:11 GMT -5
(Saturday afternoon. At a local arena, there's a game of shinny hockey going on. It's actually above freezing outside, so the boys had to take their game inside for a change. Five men per side, a few substitutes sitting in the boxes, a handful of fans sitting on the bleachers, with hot chocolate or coffee or, in the case of one grizzled old-time, something out of a silver flask. The red team's trying to get the puck out of their own zone, but the blue team keeps passing too quickly for anyone else to get a stick on it. Finally, someone takes a hard shot at the net. A blue defenseman blocks the shot, and his teammate finally passes it up the ice; it bounces over the stick of the red left defenseman, and with a burst of speed, the blue left winger #45 sprints past and makes it to the puck. He's on a breakaway! He dekes, the goalie goes left, he shoots right...GOAL! A few fans cheer as number 45 does a small victory dance, and the goaltender smacks his stick on the ice.)
TIMEKEEPER: Okay, that's the end of the second period, boys. Take a break, have some water, do whatever.
(The blue team skates back to the bench; most of the guys take their helmets off and take a pull from their water bottles.)
45: Ah, yes, my friends, bask in my glory. We're only one period away from winning this game.
32: You know we're only winning this game because the other team doesn't have--
45: Don't even say it.
87: You know they're missing their best player.
45: Right, sure, that might be helping us win. But you know we'd be winning anyways. (Spits on the mat.) Better not show up for this last period, or else I might have to get tough.
32: Uh, you sure about that?
(Number 32 gestures over at the other side of the rink. There stands Bruce "The Beast" Richards, in a wool coat and his duster, smiling cockily. The blue team slouches in position, looking like all the hope has just drained out of them.)
45: Oh, shit.
(We cut back to Bruce Richards, who's just standing there at the gate. Then, we pan down and to his left. Tiffany McIntyre is standing there, in skates, pads, and a red hockey jersey; her hair is in pigtails and there's black paint under her eyes. She's holding her hockey stick angrily, and the red team cheers at the sight of her. Skating over to the red team's bench, she shoots an angry glance at the opposing team.)
91: Tiffany! Where the hell were you?
TIFFANY: (Jersey number 9.) Sorry boys. Apparently, the gas faeries came last night and took all the fuel out of Bruce's car. (Another glance at the blue team; number 45 puts on a shocked "Who, me?" face.) Good thing he only lives ten blocks from a gas station. So, what, you guys are how many goals down without me?
28: Two.
TIFFANY: That's nothing, guys. We can make that up easy. Okay, here's the plan...
(Cut to Bruce Richards, drinking his coffee and sitting just a little apart from the rest of the fans. He's smiling as he watches Tiffany skate out on the ice and taking up her position in right wing. The red team wins the face-off, and the center passes to Tiffany, who goes in low and hip-checks number 45, gets the puck and takes it across the ice.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: That's my girl. She's the star of the show, and she knows it. Hell, everyone knows it. And it's not because she keeps flapping her gums about how great she is. It's because she's that damn good. (The crowd roars as the blue goaltender makes a SPECTACULAR save, and Tiffany goes up for the rebound, but is denied.) She's got the talent, but more than that. She keeps working longer than most other people would; goes for every rebound, stretches to make every pass, even doles out a few punches when she's got no other choice. A five-foot-two girl on the ice with guys six, ten, twelve inches taller than her, and they don't hold back. So neither does she.
(He holds up his sign...well, it's not really a sign. It's a bar graph. The title of the chart is "#6's Stats." A big green line says "Goals", a bigger red line says "Assists", and an even bigger blue line says "Heart". Bruce lets out a cheer as number 91 gets a goal from an assist by Tiffany.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: She's the star here, and she knows it. Sure, a lot of these guys know me from the NAPW, and I go out for beers after the game sometimes, give them a few tickets every once in a while, but I try not to make a big deal out of it. This is where she's the boss, and I support her. When it comes to the wrestling ring, though, the guys are cheering for me, just like any other group of fans. And that's one of the best sounds I can ever hear. Well, that and "Bruce, I'm breaking out the pom-poms tonight." But that's getting a little too personal.
BRUCE RICHARDS: Jeff James is a very talented guy in his own right. The man's got a lot to be proud of. It's been said before, and I'll say it again: the man defended the TV Title more times than anyone else. He's headlined Action and Tuesday Night Fights. He is easily the most talented member of The Foundation, although with Attention Deficit Darko in the mix, that's really only the best out of a group of three. He's definitely someone to watch out for in the NAPW. But come Tuesday night, he's not going to be the star. Because he's stepping in the ring with The Beast. I've held more titles, I've won more awards, I'm bigger, I'm stronger, and I'm more experienced. I'm the star. I eclipse Jeff James. Maybe after this last Tuesday Night Fights, he'll find himself back in contention for the Provincial Title, but he'll be doing it after coming off a loss. And he really shouldn't feel too bad about that. There's no shame in losing, at least, no shame in losing to me. (Shrugs.) It's just the way it goes when you tangle with the best. (The crowd goes nuts as Tiffany scores and the red team celebrates with a pile-up in the corner.) Oh, she's good all right. But you should see her when she gets into a fight.
(Fade out as they bring the face-off back to center ice.)
TIMEKEEPER: Okay, that's the end of the second period, boys. Take a break, have some water, do whatever.
(The blue team skates back to the bench; most of the guys take their helmets off and take a pull from their water bottles.)
45: Ah, yes, my friends, bask in my glory. We're only one period away from winning this game.
32: You know we're only winning this game because the other team doesn't have--
45: Don't even say it.
87: You know they're missing their best player.
45: Right, sure, that might be helping us win. But you know we'd be winning anyways. (Spits on the mat.) Better not show up for this last period, or else I might have to get tough.
32: Uh, you sure about that?
(Number 32 gestures over at the other side of the rink. There stands Bruce "The Beast" Richards, in a wool coat and his duster, smiling cockily. The blue team slouches in position, looking like all the hope has just drained out of them.)
45: Oh, shit.
(We cut back to Bruce Richards, who's just standing there at the gate. Then, we pan down and to his left. Tiffany McIntyre is standing there, in skates, pads, and a red hockey jersey; her hair is in pigtails and there's black paint under her eyes. She's holding her hockey stick angrily, and the red team cheers at the sight of her. Skating over to the red team's bench, she shoots an angry glance at the opposing team.)
91: Tiffany! Where the hell were you?
TIFFANY: (Jersey number 9.) Sorry boys. Apparently, the gas faeries came last night and took all the fuel out of Bruce's car. (Another glance at the blue team; number 45 puts on a shocked "Who, me?" face.) Good thing he only lives ten blocks from a gas station. So, what, you guys are how many goals down without me?
28: Two.
TIFFANY: That's nothing, guys. We can make that up easy. Okay, here's the plan...
(Cut to Bruce Richards, drinking his coffee and sitting just a little apart from the rest of the fans. He's smiling as he watches Tiffany skate out on the ice and taking up her position in right wing. The red team wins the face-off, and the center passes to Tiffany, who goes in low and hip-checks number 45, gets the puck and takes it across the ice.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: That's my girl. She's the star of the show, and she knows it. Hell, everyone knows it. And it's not because she keeps flapping her gums about how great she is. It's because she's that damn good. (The crowd roars as the blue goaltender makes a SPECTACULAR save, and Tiffany goes up for the rebound, but is denied.) She's got the talent, but more than that. She keeps working longer than most other people would; goes for every rebound, stretches to make every pass, even doles out a few punches when she's got no other choice. A five-foot-two girl on the ice with guys six, ten, twelve inches taller than her, and they don't hold back. So neither does she.
(He holds up his sign...well, it's not really a sign. It's a bar graph. The title of the chart is "#6's Stats." A big green line says "Goals", a bigger red line says "Assists", and an even bigger blue line says "Heart". Bruce lets out a cheer as number 91 gets a goal from an assist by Tiffany.)
BRUCE RICHARDS: She's the star here, and she knows it. Sure, a lot of these guys know me from the NAPW, and I go out for beers after the game sometimes, give them a few tickets every once in a while, but I try not to make a big deal out of it. This is where she's the boss, and I support her. When it comes to the wrestling ring, though, the guys are cheering for me, just like any other group of fans. And that's one of the best sounds I can ever hear. Well, that and "Bruce, I'm breaking out the pom-poms tonight." But that's getting a little too personal.
BRUCE RICHARDS: Jeff James is a very talented guy in his own right. The man's got a lot to be proud of. It's been said before, and I'll say it again: the man defended the TV Title more times than anyone else. He's headlined Action and Tuesday Night Fights. He is easily the most talented member of The Foundation, although with Attention Deficit Darko in the mix, that's really only the best out of a group of three. He's definitely someone to watch out for in the NAPW. But come Tuesday night, he's not going to be the star. Because he's stepping in the ring with The Beast. I've held more titles, I've won more awards, I'm bigger, I'm stronger, and I'm more experienced. I'm the star. I eclipse Jeff James. Maybe after this last Tuesday Night Fights, he'll find himself back in contention for the Provincial Title, but he'll be doing it after coming off a loss. And he really shouldn't feel too bad about that. There's no shame in losing, at least, no shame in losing to me. (Shrugs.) It's just the way it goes when you tangle with the best. (The crowd goes nuts as Tiffany scores and the red team celebrates with a pile-up in the corner.) Oh, she's good all right. But you should see her when she gets into a fight.
(Fade out as they bring the face-off back to center ice.)