D2: The Mighty Ducks Novel

NEW DUCKS

      "Welcome back, Ducks," said Gordon, beaming. "I sure missed you guys." The seven Ducks cheered. They were grouped around Gordon front of the old District Five band box.

      "All right now," said Gordon. "Who's ready to fly?
   
     The kids cheered again. "COACH!" they shouted in unison. "COACH! COACH! COACH! COACH!"

      While they cheered, a white limousine pulled up behind them. The sunroof of the car opened, and up popped Don Tibbles.

      "Hi," he said, greeting the Ducks, and began to pass out his business card. "Don Tibbles. Hendrix Hockey Apparel. Your official sponsor. Good to see you all. You look like a fine bunch. Not so close to the car, please. Gordon, step into my office."

      Tibbles dropped back into the car and opened the back door. The Ducks swarmed around trying to get a peek at the inside of the limo.

      "Adults only," said Tibbles as he motioned for Gordon. "You kids practice your puck sticking."
     
      "That's puck handling," smirked Gordon as he entered the limo.

      Tibbles closed the door behind them. Gordon settled into the backseat. The plush leather interior with the built-in TV and bar reminded him of the kind of car he used to drive when he was working as a highly paid lawyer.

     "Nice," Gordon commented. "I used to ride in one of these, a little smaller though. How many channels does your TV get?"

     "How many do you want?" quipped Tibbles. "Listen. Before we head to Taylor Falls, we have to talk about your endorsements."

      "Endorsements? I'm just a coach."

      "Just a coach?" Tibbles sounded surprised. "Is Pat Riley just a coach? Chuck Daly? Ditka?"

      "Ditka's out of a job," Gordon said sarcastically.

     "Go down to the bank and you'll see him laugh ing his head off. Listen, Gordon. Coaches today have images. Images mean dollars. I sell you, you sell the sport. We both get rich. How's that sound?"
     
      Gordon wasn't sure. "I've got nothing against making money," he said thoughtfully.

       "There is so much more to life, I know," Tibbles said, finishing his thought for him. "You do well at the Goodwill Games and the sky's the limit. With your legal experience you could move into the front office, Want to coach in the pros? Go from the Games to the minors right into the NHL? Think you can still play? I can get you a priority tryout with any team in the league. It can be easy if you know the right people. Fortunately for you, I happen to be one of those people."

      Tibbles shoved a contract into Gordon's hands. "Look these over when you get a minute," he urged. "I'll see you tomorrow in Taylor Falls."

      "Why are we going there?" asked Gordon.
     
     "Team USA training facility - two hours north, total boondocks, supposed to limit distractions," explained Tibbles as he turned the knob to open the back door. "We train for two weeks, then straight to L.A., my kind of town."
 
     Tibbles tried to open the door but couldn't budge it. He pushed a little harder, opening it a crack. A hand pushed through, then an arm, then a face.

     It was Goldberg. Behind him were the rest of the Ducks. They were trying a full frontal assault on the limo.

     Tibbles pushed Gordon out of the car and into the flock of kids. It was the only way he could shut the door and prevent the invasion.

    Gordon grinned as he watched the limo peel away from the band box. Around him were his Ducks. They were all fired up, excited about the prospect of going international and playing against the world.