Thursday, July 8, 2010
Thursday Morning Cupcheck - Twilight: Modanoclipse
Say it ain't so, Mo!
Good morning, hockey fans! Here's hoping the legion of fawning yes-men surrounding Ilya Kovalchuk don't convince him to bring his flash-and-trash arse to wreck your favorite team. Last week we used the twin powers of Science and Sweeping Generalization to make sense of the free agent morass; this week, I was planning on filming my own one-hour infomercial for highly-coveted free agent extraordinaire Christopher Higgins (official motto: "Someone thought he was good once!"), but a certain spunky-fresh former Face of the Franchise has thrown a wrench into every Dallas Stars fans' offseason of forced apathy.
Yes, it seems that a certain over-the-hill forty-year-old wants another season to prove to the world that he still hasn't "got it." But rather than bore you with the trivial details of contracts, salary cap space and old white guys crying, here's a transcript of exactly what has been happening behind the scenes at Red Wings' HQ. Watch and learn, my friends.
EXT: RED WINGS HEADQUARTERS, IN A BUNKER DEEP BELOW THE EARTH'S CRUST
MIKE MODANO (VOICEOVER): Once upon a time, there lived an enchanting center named ModelFace McSkatesSoFast, er I mean Mike Modano. He was so awesome that his awesomeness couldn’t be contained in the tiny state of Texas, so he moved to Detroit. Time for my first day on a new team. Since every crumbling-from-age story requires the main character be a social outcast, I suppose I’ll have to endure being the unpopular new guy until I do something that proves my worth.
MODANO shows up and is INSTANTLY POPULAR AND BELOVED.
HENRIK ZETTERBERG: Oh my God I love your hair you’re so man-pretty will you be my new best friend?
KIRK MALTBY: Can we like go out sometime since you’re so awesome?
DARREN HELM: No way you ho-tards, I saw him first!
MODANO: Wow. I guess this is what it looks like when a forty-year old white man's pathetic daydreams become reality! But aren't you guys worried that since 28 other teams passed on me, I might have some serious flaws?
MALTBY: Flaws? Oh, well, um, I suppose you could argue that you’re a little TOO perfect and amazing. Let’s make out.
Suddenly, KEN HOLLAND enters. The paleness of his corpse-white skin reaches blinding levels while the girlish squeals in the hockey media reach deafening levels.
MODANO: Who's that tall, cool drink of man-freshment?
MALTBY: Oh, him? That’s Ken. He’s universally acknowledged as the hottest GM in the NHL but he doesn’t sign any free agents because no player is good enough for him.
MODANO sits next to KEN, who takes one look at Mike's gametape on the powerplay, throws up in his mouth and leaves Red Wings HQ for a week. Eventually, he returns.
MODANO: Hey, where did you go? Because you are an unsurpassed cheapskate, I find myself attracted to you.
KEN: For such a "skilled" player, you look about as comfortable killing penalties as Tom Cruise at a burlesque show. After your frequent lazy turnovers at the blue line, you skate back into the defensive zone with all the fire and passion of a pothead in line at the DMV. Giving you precious powerplay time on the point to pump up your stats (while avoiding most bodily contact) will only result in a half-dozen shorthanded goals against us at the most inopportune times.
KEN: Alright, alright, you got me. I was acting like a jerk because I secretly totally love you. Shall we say, one million American dollars? Very well, two million.
MODANO: Wow! A Detroit native AND rich!
INT: THE GIRAFFE LOT, BEHIND JOE LOUIS ARENA
MODANO is nearly hit by a MINIVAN while standing still with his mouth open in parking lot. KEN swoops in to save him.
MODANO: (stunned expression) You've got mad negotiating skills, spend a large portion of your day being an old man watching lithe 17-year old Canadian farmboys exercise, and lead a legion of paranoid fans that complain of referee bias despite 15 years of their team never getting called for a single penalty. I know what you are.
KEN: Say it. Don't spray it.
MODANO: You're a Skeletor.
KEN: Not really, I am a Bone Demon from the Icy Reaches of the Nine Hells. Here, let me prove it by carrying you piggyback around the lush urban dreamscape of Detroit.
MODANO: You really are a Bone Demon! Does that mean that crucifixes, holy water and the Power of Christ compel you?
KEN: Don’t be a moron. Being a Bone Demon just means I get vaguely-defined superpowers. It’s like being Superman, but somehow gayer. Also, my skin sparkles when exposed to direct sunlight.
MODANO and KEN continue not quite interacting with each other and having no chemistry whatsoever. MODANO goes to a FORBIDDEN BEACH, and meets JOE NIEUWENDYK in a HOODIE.
JOE: I've come to warn you, Mike. Don't fall for him, he's the Father of Lies. He'll convince you to sign for the league minimum, then tarnish your Hall of Fame credentials by making you a healthy scratch for 66 games. Also, I love you and want to nurture and take care of you, since you obviously can't take care of yourself. You should stay with my team in a front-office role.
MODANO: What, and deprive me of a season in which I score three goals and collect nine secondary assists? You'll have to do better than that.
JOE: (sighs). Gaze upon my abs, ye mortal, and despair! (lifts hoodie)
JOE: Also, I'm totally not a minotaur. I will never, ever leave you.
By the way, I am a minotaur after all. I can never see you again.
Inexplicably, a game of BONE DEMON BASKETBALL breaks out. The RED WINGS FANS enjoy it immensely, while EVERY OTHER HUMAN BEING ON EARTH is utterly confused. The game attracts the attention of some EVIL BONE DEMONS, who actually do the type of cool stuff demons are supposed to, like eviscerate human corpses and ravenously devour the souls of the damned. One of them, ROCKY WIRTZ, notices MODANO.
ROCKY: Hey, are you going to eat that?
KEN: Stay away from him or my legion of paranoid fans will have to kill you. Specifically, we’ll have to leap around BRANDISHING JAZZ HANDS and HISSING like the cast of Cats, and then kill you.
ROCKY: No problem, I'll just call Mike on the phone and tell him to meet me alone in an obvious trap. I'll make sure to ask him to not tell you about it so that he can do the stupidest thing possible and follow my directions to the T, despite having no reason or motivation to do so.
ROCKY: Aha! You fell for the oldest trick in the book! Actually, it's so ridiculously inept that it's not even included in the book! Now I will destroy you like I destroyed my Stanley Cup-winning team!
KEN: Not so fast ROCKY! Let's fight!
ROCKY: Them's fightin' words!
ROCKY and KEN prance daintily around the room on WIRES until KEN somehow WINS. In the POORLY-SHOT SEQUENCE, MODANO is AT DEATH'S DOOR ANYWAYS.
RED WINGS TEAM DOCTOR: Mike's been bitten! His immortal soul will be dragged down to the eighth circle of Hell within minutes unless you suck his essence out with your teeth! Or something! Also, I can’t do it for some reason or another.
KEN: I will do that thing you said in a very clumsy and dissatisfying way, as my legion of paranoid fans equate abstinence with romance, probably because no one will ever want to get within one hundred yards of their cobwebby genitals.
KEN bites MODANO's arm, then REALLY SUCKS.
INT: A HOSPITAL ROOM.
MODANO wakes up in the hospital, and KEN wakes up after him.
MODANO: I thought Bone Demons didn't need sleep?
KEN: Err, want to sign a one-year deal that will forever tarnish your image, Namath/Unitas/Jordan-style?
MODANO: Despite the incalcuable damage to my reputation, I want to be with you forever and ever. Can I get a 15-year deal like Henrik and Franzen?
KEN: You're asking me if I want to tie up precious salary on my capped-out team with an over-40 floater with little to no desire to play hockey and diminishing skills, locking up a roster spot that could be used by a hungry young prospect eager to get some on-the-job skills in the tiny window that I'll still have Lidstrom on the roster?
MODANO: Yes. For multiple years, preferably.
KEN: I CAN'T AFFORD NOT TO!
They go to the PROM, and DANCE TOGETHER VERY STIFFLY. THE END.
That's it for this week's dose of Red Wing lovin'. Tune in next week when we make fun of Detroit fans for not paying attention when Modano said he'd only try hard if he was playing with top-line wingers. Their startled looks and uncontrollable sobbing may surprise you.
See more stories in:
- Thursday Morning Cupcheck - The Five Worst Dallas Stars of All Time
- Thursday Morning Cupcheck - A Look Back at 2011, the Year That Benn Wrought
- Thursday Morning Cupcheck - The 2010-11 Dallas Stars Final Report Card
- Thursday Morning Cupcheck - Grading Big D's Big D
- Thursday Morning Cupcheck - Mourning the Jerenator