Hey, kids! Bored this summer and wondering what's going on with the labor talks of your favorite sport? Me too. Fortunately I managed to bug the offices of the NHL and record the latest "meeting" between NHL chief Gary Bettman and the head of the NHL Players Union, Bob Goodenow. The full transcript of the discussion appears below. To summarize the current state of negotiations and the likelihood of a hockey season, well, let's just say that it figures to be such a long winter that I'd recommend to you fans that you find a girlfriend or boyfriend to devote your time toward, and failing to achieve that goal because of general repulsiveness to the sex of your desire, considering another challenge, like law school. Just my advice is all. Anyway ...

Start of transcript

Gary Bettman: OK, Bob, let’s make this fast. I have a crate full of puppies that I have to light on fire and a nun-beating event that I have to oversee. After that I have that NAMBLA thing …

Bob Goodenow: I know you’re a busy man, Gary. So I’ll make it brief. Your offers suck Pat Quinn’s ass.

Gary: Who’s Pat Quinn? Wasn’t he the backup point guard for the ’86 Mavericks?

Bob: He’s the head coach of the Maple Leafs. In Toronto. Original Six franchise? Hap Day? King Clancy? Punch Imlach? Terry Sawchuk? Lanny McDonald? Mats Sundin?

Gary: Doesn’t ring a bell.

Bob: [Audible sigh] Tie Domi?

Gary: Tie Domi! I hate that guy.

Bob: Yeah. Anyway, back to the proposals. They’re unreasonable bordering on ridiculous bordering on psychotic. We can’t possibly accept them.

Gary: Aw, fiddly-sticks! I thought they were great. David Stern, um, I mean, the Board of Governors and I worked on them for a whole afternoon. We had lunch at the Tribeca Grill. Have you ever been there?

Bob: No. Getting back to …

Gary: Robert DeNiro owns the place. “You talkin’ to me?” “You talkin’ to me?” Ha! That always cracks me up.

Bob: Yeah. Anyway …

Gary: Hey! You ever see “Ronin”? Now that was a great movie.

Bob: Gary, no offense, but I didn’t come here to talk about movies and clown around.

Gary: Clown? Clown! So I’m some kind of a clown to you? I’m here to amuse you? Is that it?

Bob: Gary …

Gary: Get it? I was doing “Goodfellas.” That wasn’t DeNiro, granted, but he was still in it. Another good movie. You know that kid that played Spider that Joe Pesci shot in the foot is the same guy that plays Christopher in “The Sopranos”? Do you watch “The Sopranos”?

Bob: Specifically, I want to talk about Proposal #4, and maybe clarify some points about this revenue-sharing plan the BOG is advocating. I refer you to page 22 …

Gary: I can't believe they killed Adriana. Anyway, he wasn’t there.

Bob: Excuse me?

Gary: DeNiro. He wasn’t there. At the restaurant. He wasn’t there. I mean I know he’s a busy man and all, and it’s not like we were expecting him to be in the back frying up the calamari or anything. But you figure, he being the owner and all, maybe he’d stop in that day and drop by the table and say hello. I mean, we are the NHL Board of Directors, not exactly some gaggle of dykes from the WNBA. Bill Davidson flew all the way in from Tampa for Christ's sake. FYI: It’s the middle of friggin' July and he’s still wearing his Members Only jacket — hello? The filthy rich are some eccentric bunch, huh?

Bob: Proposal #4, page 22, subsection eight …

Gary: You know who was there, though? That girl, the young one, that does all those Disney movies and has the … you know … the bling bling, beep beep, say hello to my little friends? You know the one?

Bob: Subsection eight, paragraph two …

Gary: Lindsey Lowman, or something. I think that’s her name. Anyway, dammmmmmmmmmmmn. She can freak my Friday anytime.

Bob: Paragraph two …

Gary: You think they’re real?

Bob: Gary, I don’t see …

Gary: I don’t see it either. I mean, they’re just too perfect, if you follow my drift. Not that I’m complaining.

Bob: Jesus. Paragraph two, line seven. Specifically the phrase “Players will be responsible …”

Gary: “Players will be responsible for personally refunding all salary to owners in the event of a loss.” What about it?

Bob: Um, well, it’s a little extreme, isn’t it?

Gary: Not at all. These players are paid to win, right? So if you don’t win, you don’t get paid. Sounds fair to me.

Bob: But it essentially amounts to slave conditions. Every night roughly forty guys put their health and skill on the line to win a game while your owners sit in cozy boxes and make millions of dollars watching them do it, regardless of the outcome, and you only want to see them paid for their effort based on the final score. How is that fair? Why not just revert to the days of the Roman gladiators and have the winners behead the losers at center ice every night?

Gary: I thought we were talking about Proposal #4, not Proposal #2.

Bob: This is absurd, Gary. Do you and the Board want to even try to negotiate here and have a season?

Gary: It’s up to you and the Union, Bob. We’ve proposed six fair and balanced offers, all of which you’ve rejected. Who is really being unreasonable here?

Bob: Gary, all six of the proposals include a clause where the owners of a given team can harvest the crucial organs of any of their players under contract, any time, any organ, no questions asked.

Gary: Heh heh. Charlie Wang insisted on that one. He wants to see if Alexei Yashin has a heart. Heh heh. I said “Wang.”

Bob: Thanks for wasting my time, the players’ time, and the fans’ time, Gary.

Gary: Bob, wait. I can negotiate. Let’s talk about this for a sec.

Bob: Fine. Go ahead. We refuse a salary cap and instead favor a luxury tax, with concessions made to free agency and limits on the entry draft. How’s that sound?

Gary: Um, if a team loses a game, the owners get to have their way with the players wives.

Bob: Nice working with you, Gary.

Gary: OK, twist my arm. In the event of a first-round playoff loss, the players give their first-born child. Sounds fair, right?

Bob: Good day, Gary.

[Sound of door slamming]

Gary: Sure, Bob, go. Walk out that door, doom the fate of hockey forever. See if I care. See if anyone cares. [Brief pause, slight sobbing heard] I should never have left basketball. I have no idea what I'm doing. Nothing can cheer me up … except maybe my sock monkey, Mr Bananas. You still like me, right, Mr. Bananas?

Mr Bananas: Whoot whoot! Three million dollars a year is too much for Mikael Nylander! Whoot whoot!

Gary: It sure is, Mr Bananas. It sure is.

End of transcript

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