D2: The Mighty Ducks Novel

A NEW PERSPECTIVE

As Luis had predicted the Italian team was no match for Team USA, which won 11-0. Team USA seemed unbeatable.

     Gordon out short his after-game hang with the kids and retreated to the beach house with Tibbles and Marcy Hendrix. Tibbles had arranged an afternoon reception in Gordon's honor. The house was filled with Hendrix executives, sports jour nalists, and even some movie stars. After a while Gordon found himself on the patio with Tibbles and Hendrix. They were drinking frothy cappuccinos and breathing in the salty ocean air.

     "Bet you didn't know you have so many friends, huh?" Tibbles asked Gordon.

     Gordon smiled at Tibbles and Hendrix. "It's nice to be appreciated for your work," he admitted.

     "You bet it is," said Hendrix. Then she opened her briefcase and pulled out a stack of papers.
     "These are letters of intent that will bind us to gether should we decide to use you in any and or all of our product endorsements," she explained to Gordon. "Here you can see the guaranteed feen you will collect. We trust these new numbers are fair."

     Gordon glanced at the papers. "Those are nice, fair numbers," he agreed. He couldn't believe how much money they were giving him. "You'll pay me that much just to endorse sports apparel?"

     "What do you say?" asked Tibbles.

     "Got a pen?" replied Gordon.

     Tibbles handed Gordon a pen, and Gordon signed the papers.

     "Now there's only one thing left for us to do, Gordon," said Hendrix,

     "What's that, Marcy?"

     "Enjoy."

     Gordon took another sip of his cappuccino. "I can do that," he said smiling.

     While Gordon sipped cappuccinos at the elegant beach house, Team USA was finishing up its daily lesson in a classroom on the UCLA campus. Ms. MacKay was just rolling up the map she used for geography as the kids bolted out of the class room. It was Friday, and she knew the kids wereanxious for some fun before their next game on Monday, except for Adam Banks. Ms. MacKay had no- ticed that he didn't seem to be enjoying himself as much as the others.

     "Adam," Ms. MacKay called out as Banks headed for the door. "What're you going to do with your free time?"

     "Practice," Banks said automatically.

     "Practice, practice, practice," said Ms. MacKay. "You're a thirteen-year-old boy in the middle of Los Angeles. Maybe you could try to have a little, oh, I don't know ... fun?"

     "Hockey is fun," said Banks. "Adam, there's more to life than hockey."

     "Not to my life," Banks retorted. "We win here, then I go to the juniors, then the pros. What could be better for a Minnesota boy?"

     "What if you don't become a hockey player?" asked Ms. MacKay.

     Banks didn't hesitate. "I will," he said. Ms. MacKay turned to the blackboard and picked up a piece of chalk.

     "Let's do a little math," she said. "There are how many teams in the National Hockey League?"

     "Twenty-four," replied Banks. Ms. MacKay wrote the number on the blackboard.

     "How many players on each team?" she asked.

     "A team can carry twenty players," answered Banks.

     Ms. MacKay wrote that number down as well Then she began to calculate.

     "Twenty-four times twenty," she recited as she continued to write, "Four hundred and eighty players. Now, junior hockey leagues nationwide report forty-five thousand members. Let's be generous and say only one third of those are serious about hockey. One third is fifteen thousand players competing for four hundred and eighty slots."