The following is a look behind the closed doors of the Oilers organization today. (in the styling of DGB)
INT KATZ MANOR – KATZ’s THRONE ROOM
The elevator opens. Lowe and MacT enter the room alone. They walk across the dark space to stand before the throne, President and GM, side by side, beneath the gaze of Katz. Lowe bows to his Master.
Katz Welcome, Craig. I have been expecting you.
MacT peers at the wild haired figure defiantly. Katz then looks down at Craig’s old hockey gloves.
Katz Those are no example to our legion. You won’t be needing them.
Katz motions ever so slightly with his roll of $100 bills and MacT’s gloves fall away, thudding to the floor. MacT looks down at his own hands, free now to reach out and grab Katz’s neck. He does nothing.
Katz Guards, leave us.
His ginger son and Pat LaForge turn and disappear behind the elevator.
Katz (to MacT) I’m looking forward to completing your training. In time you will call me Master.
Craig You’re gravely mistaken. I didn’t beat cancer just to steer this team into the ground. You won’t convert me as you did Tambo.
Katz gets down from his throne and walks up very close to MacT. Katz looks into his eyes and, for the first time, MacT can perceive the evil visage under that incredible hairdo and crooked grin.
Katz Oh, no, my young GM. You will find that it is you who are mistaken…about a great many things.
Lowe His Mini-stick!
Lowe extends a ringed hand toward Katz, revealing MacT’s Vancouver Canucks mini-stick. Katz takes it.
Katz Ah, yes, your weapon. Much like Kevin’s. By now you must know he can never be turned from the Katz side. So will it be with you.
MacT You’re wrong. Soon we’ll be in charge of a winning team…and him with me.
Katz laughs.
Katz Perhaps you refer to the imminent attack of your Rebel fleet.
MacT looks up sharply.
Katz Yes…I assure you we are quite safe from victory here.
Kevin smirks at Craig and flashes his 6 rings.
MacT Your overconfidence is your weakness.
Katz Your faith in young talent and the blue and orange colours are yours.
Lowe It is pointless to resist, my Protégé.
Katz turns to face MacT.
Katz (angry) Everything that has transpired has done so according to my design. (shows a futuristic image of fans surrounding the arena project) And your friends out there on the ice… (shows a picture of Yak, Hall, Ebs, Nuge, Schultz and Nurse)…
MacT reacts. Katz notes it.
Katz (cont) …have been walking into a trap! It was I who allowed the EIG to know the skills of Pronger and 2006. It was I who sent all the old stars away. It was I who recently sent away Ryan Smyth, and Sheldon Souray and Lubomir Visnovsky and… should I go on?
(They all pause in stunned silence realizing all the pieces to win had been there at some not so distant point…)
It was I who gave Yoda..er..Gretzky his supernatural powers and it was I who replicated Pocklington’s rings. The secret of winning is quite safe from your pitiful little draft picks, hold overs and acquisitions. An entire legion of failure awaits all of them.
Craig’s look darts from the Katz to Lowe and, finally, to the Sather mini-stick in Katz’s hand.
Katz Oh…I’m afraid the arena district will be fully developed and the profits rolling for me by the time anyone truly figures out what is going on.
In the screen behind the Katz’s throne can be seen the flashes of snazy advertising showing the the arena project in progress.
Katz Come, Craig. See for yourself.
Katz is sitting in his throne, with Lowe standing at his side. MacT moves closer to the screen.
Katz From here you will witness the final destruction of the Tier 1 and 2 fans, and the end of your insignificant Rebellion. I will be able to raise ticket prices to unprecedented levels and make it all but impossible for non-elites to attend games. Because of the deal I have reached with the foolish City Council I will know riches like no other owner ever has. Even Ed Snider will shudder at the sheer volume of my sporting wealth.
MacT is in torment. He glances at his Vancouver Canucks mini-stick sitting on the armrest of the throne. Katz watches him and smiles, touches the mini-stick.
Katz You want this, don’t you? The hate is swelling in you now. Take your weapon from a useless team that has never won anything. Use it. I am unarmed. Strike me down with it. Give in to your anger. With each passing moment, you make yourself more my servant.
Kevin watches Craig in his agony.
MacT No!
Katz It is unavoidable! It is your destiny! You, like Kevin, are now mine!
Katz, Lowe, and a horrified MacT watch the internet battle fireworks at the screen of Katz’ 1 million inch TV. Another Rebbel twitter account explodes against the MSM’s protective shield. Accounts like Jones, Stauffer, Matty, Brownlee, Spector, Gregor, and worst of all, Tencer, have continued to do an admirable job of thwarting the hopes and ideas of fans for years. Even when there was perceived dissension among the MSM ranks, the power of the Sather mini-stick always brought them back. Grit and size rule all. Using the incredible power of the Sather mini-stick, they’ve fiendishly contorted what Oilers Hockey really should be, all at the ultimate behest of Katz.
Katz As you can see, my rookie GM, your fans have failed. Now witness the firepower of this fully armed and operational battle station. (into comlink) Fire at will, Commander.
MacT, in shock, looks out across the surface of the The internet to the twitter world and beyond. A trade rumour of Eberle for spare parts shoots across the internet and stuns all into varying states of shock, denial, anger or acceptance. Fans don’t even know what way is up any longer.
But in Katz Manner there is no sound of the battle. Then Katz turns to MacT.
Katz Your fans have lost. And your friends, OilersNation, Copper’N’Blue, Lowetide, Mc79, the Oilers Rig, they will not survive. There is no escape, my young apprentice. The young cluster will die…as all your friends.
MacT’s eyes are full of rage. Lowe watches him.
Katz Goooood. I can feel your anger. I am defenseless. Take your mini-stick! Strike me down with all your hatred, and your journey towards the Katz side will be complete.
Craig can resist no longer. His Canucks mini-stick flies into his hand. He tapes it in an instant and takes a slapper at Katz. Lowe’s mini-stick slashes into view, blocking MacT’s shot before it can reach the evil Katz. The two mini-sticks crack at contact. MacT turns to fight Lowe.
MacT and Lowe are engaged in a man-to-man duel of knee hockey and mini-sticks. But MacT is strong from his personal battles, time on TSN and hockey travels and the advantage is his. Lowe is forced back, losing his balance, and is knocked on his side. MacT buries a ball of rolled up sock tape top shelf and rests with butt on heels ready to score another goal.
Katz (laughing) Good. Use your aggressive feelings, boy! Let the hate flow through you!
MacT looks momentarily towards Katz, then back to Lowe, and realizes he is using the Katz side. He gets to his feet, rips the tape off his mini-stick, and relaxes, driving the hate from his being.
Lowe Mike Gillis has taught you well.
MacT I will not fight you, Kevin.
Lowe You are unwise to lower your defenses.
Lowe attacks, forcing MacT back to his knees. The surprisingly spry MacT leaps in an amazing reverse flip to guard the front of his dual pillow net. Lowe stands in front of him.
MacT Your hands betray you, Kevin. I feel the defense in you…the conflict. You always knew that a strong defense was important to winning.
Lowe There is no conflict.
MacT You couldn’t bring yourself to fire me before, I resigned, and I don’t believe you’ll stand by and let this team be destroyed any further.
Lowe You underestimate the power of the Katz side. If you will not continue to sell false hope, then you will meet your destiny.
Lowe throws the mini-stick and it cuts through the two pillows forming MacT’s goal posts, then returns to Lowe’s hand. Craig stumbles in a shower feathers and rolls out of sight under one of Katz’s numerous coffee tables. Lowe crouches lower to find him.
Katz (evilly laughs) Good. Goooood.
Lowe stalks among the many coffee tables on the level below the throne, searching for Craig in the semi-darkness, his mini-stick taped and ready.
Lowe You cannot try to build this team the way you want Craig.
MacT I will not score on you any more!
Lowe Give yourself to the Katz side. It is the only way you can save your friends. Yes, your thoughts betray you. Your feelings for them are strong. Especially for…
Lowe stops and senses something. MacT shuts his eyes tightly, in anguish.
Lowe A supporter! So…you have a twin supporter. Your feelings have now betrayed him, too. You were wise to hide him from me. Now his failure is complete. If you will not turn to the Katz side, then perhaps he will.
MacT Never-r-r!
MacT quickly retapes his mini-stick and screams in anger, rushing at Kevin with a frenzy we have not seen before. Feathers fly as MacT and Lowe fight in the cramped area. MacT’s hatred forces Lowe to retreat out of the low area and across a hallway onto a balcony overlooking a vast river valley. Each half clapper of MacT’s mini-stick drives Lowe further toward defeat. The Dark Lowe is knocked to his butt, and as he raises his mini-stick to deliver an illegal slash, MacT slashes him first causing Lowe’s cherished 6 rings to clink to the ground, gems, rubies and diamonds spreading all over the floor. Lowe’s mini-stick clatters uselessly away, over the railing and into the cold river below. MacT moves over Lowe and holds the blade of his mini-stick to the Dark Lowe’s throat. Katz watches with uncontrollable, pleased agitation.
Katz Goooood! Your hate has made you powerful. Now, fulfill your destiny and take Lowe’s place at my side!
MacT looks at Lowe’s rings, then to his own, and realizes how much he is becoming like Lowe. He makes the decision for which he has spent a lifetime in preparation. MacT steps back and hurls his Canucks mini-stick away.
MacT Never! I’ll never turn to the Katz side! You’ve failed, Your Highness! I am a GM, Not a pawn of your sick, losing obsession!
Katz’s glee turns to rage.
MacT stands still, as Katz reaches the balcony. Katz’s laughter has turned to anger. He raises his arms toward MacT.
Katz If you will not be turned, you will be destroyed!
Blinding waves of Rexall prescription pads, evil stationary, shoot from Katz’s hands at MacT. Even in his surprise, MacT tries to use his Stanley Cup rings to deflect them. At first he is half successful, but after a moment the pads of paper are coming with such speed and power that MacT just shrinks before them, knees buckling. The emotionally wounded Lowe struggles to his feet, and moves to stand at his master’s side.
Katz You fool…only now, at the end, do you understand!
MacT is almost unconscious beneath the continuing assault of Katz’s Rexall prescription pads. He clutches the railing to keep from falling into the River Valley as the paper cuts over him.
Katz Your feeble skills are no match for the power of the Katz side. You have paid the price for your attempt at vision!
MacT writhes on the balcony in unbearable pain, reaching weakly up toward where Lowe stands watching.
MacT (groans) Kevin, please. Help me.
Again Lowe stands, watching MacT. He looks at his master, Katz, then back to Craig on the floor.
EMPEROR Now, young GM…you will die.
Although it would not have seemed possible, the outpouring of Rexall prescription pads from Katz’s fingers actually increases in volume, the sound of flying paper screaming through the air. MacT’s body writhes in pain.
Suddenly Lowe grabs Katz from behind, fighting for control of the crazy haired figure despite the Dark Lowe’s weakened ego and gravely weakened ring hand(s). Katz struggles in Lowe’s embrace, his paper shooting hands now lifted high, away from MacT.
Now the evil stream of stationary veers back to strike at Lowe. He stumbles with the wiry billionaire above him as the paper showers down his yoda…er… Gretzky Jofa helmet and over his trusty old blue and orange #4 Lowe jersey. He holds his evil master high over his head and walks to the edge of the river valley at the eastern front of Katz Manor. With one final burst of his once awesome strength, Lowe hurls Katz’s body into the cold river valley below. Katz tumbles helplessly down the hill, arcing as he falls through the brush. Finally, when his body is down in the river, it explodes, creating a rush of expired prescription drugs back up the hill and through the house. Lowe’s old jersey is whipped by the wind and he staggers, and collapses toward the valley. MacT shimmies to his old friend’s side and pulls him away from the edge of the abyss to safety. Both the GM and President of Hockey Operations are too weak to move.
Chaos. For the first time, the Oilers organization is rocked by explosions as the Fans, no longer backed against a wall, zoom over, unloading a heavy barrage of ideas and love for the historic franchise. The team starts winning immediately. Katz troops run in all directions, confused and desperate to escape the winning atmosphere. BUT THE PROFITS! They scream. In the midst of this uproar, MacT is trying to carry the enormous deadweight of Lowe’s weakening ego toward an ETS shuttle. Finally, MacT collapses from the strain of carrying such a giant ass. The joy from the streets grows louder as Lowe draws MacT closer.
LOWE (a whisper) Craig, help me take this helmet off.
MacT But you’ll die.
Lowe Nothing can stop that now. Just for once… let me look on you without my 6 rings rings clouding my vision.
Slowly, hesitantly, MacT removes the Jofa helmet from Lowe’s head. There beneath the scars of loss, a huge scar in the shape of a C, L and P the most prominent, is an elderly, broken man. His eyes do not focus, but the dying warrior smiles at the sight before him.
Lowe (very weak) Now…go, my friend. Leave me.
MacT No. You’re coming with me. I can’t leave you here. I’ve got to save you. You need to see this team win again.
Lowe You already have saved me, Craig. You were right about me and the roster. Tell… Eakins…you were right.
LUKE Kevin…I won’t leave you.
Darth Lowe… Kevin Lowe… Craig’s biggest supporter, vanishes. A crush of fans, lead by Taylor Hall and the young cluster, rocks the front door . Slowly, MacT rises and, half carrying, half dragging the jersey of Lowe, he stumbles toward a waiting ETS shuttle with Oilers advertising emblazoned across the side of it.
At Rexall Place
MacT sets a torch to a pile of old wood hockey sticks stacked under a funeral pyre where Lowe’s #4 jersey lies, proud, blue and orange. He stands, watching sadly, as the flames leap higher to consume the jersey. In the rafters above, the MSM eats doughnuts and pop corn, their eyes tearing up from the rising smoke.
Feel free to share some banter with me on twitter, @Borisnikov
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