June 21, 2008
What a terrible, horrific first impression! The last call I'll ever get on that cell phone!
When dad told to go to the store today to get my mind off the NHL draft, I decided to contact Pete Satt on my cell. He's the agent who phoned me a couple days ago and told me an unnamed team was interested in me, or at least someone with a similar name.
Typical Satt. Talk first, facts second.
So I phoned him as I walked to the store. I didn't get through the first couple of times but then it rang and he picked it up.
"Hey, Satt, it's Bryan. Bryan Hurst. How's the draft going? Are you having fun in Ottawa?" I asked. I didn't want to be a jerk and ask him about me right away.
"No fun, sport. It's all work today," Satt said.
"Well, I hate to bug you but I'm just wondering if you've heard any scuttlebutt about me."
"I think a western team in Canada might be interested in you," he said.
"That's strange. A few days ago you said a mid-western team in the States was interested me."
"Bryan, I gotta run. Let me check into it and I'll phone you back. See ya."
Satt hung up. Clearly, he was lying. There was no team interested in me. I sat down on a park bench. I couldn't walk to the store, I thought I was going to vomit right there. He was lying. I kept repeating the words in my mind. I must have sat there for 30 minutes. The fifth and maybe the sixth round of the draft must be over by now.
My phone rang. It was Satt.
"Yeah, Hirshey, I talked to a couple of scouts and they say it's a mid-Western team that's interested in you not Canada."
"Damn it, Satt, my name is Hurst. H-U-R-S-T. Not Hirshey. Are they talking about me or Ryan Hirshey?" Hirshey was a rough and tumble defenseman with the Kamloops Blazers of the Western Hockey League.
"Sorry, I'll clarify that," Satt said. "Call you right back."
Satt hung up again. He's got to be the worst agent ever. I wouldn't have even phoned him in the first place but he knows everyone in NHL circles.
Satt phoned back.
"It was Hirshey not Hurst. Sorry, kid. But I've heard someone from the Sudbury Wolves might get taken. Wasn't that your team?" Yes, it was my team.
"Who is going to get taken from Sudbury, Satt? Who?"
"Gotta run, kid. Let me phone you right back. It's insane here in Ottawa. It's draft day, you know. Phone you right back."
I vowed right there to kill Pete Satt. I was going to strangle his fat neck. I was going to punch him in that fat belly until he screamed like a pig heading into the slaughterhouse.
The phone rang again. Screw Satt. We was going to hear how I felt.
"You are the worst, stupidest, dumbest --"
"Whoa, Bryan. You sound like one of the columnists writing about me in the Chicago Tribune"
That wasn't Satt's voice.
"This is Dale Tallon. I'm the General Manager of the Chicago Blackhawks and I just wanted to let you know we have selected you with the 240th pick of the NHL entry draft. Welcome aboard."
"Jesus, Mr. Tallon, I'm sorry."
He laughed. "I just hope you're that abrasive on the ice. We'll be in touch over the next couple of days. Bye."
I threw my cell phone high in the air and screamed. "I got drafted! I got drafted."
I jumped as high as an Olympic pole vaulter I started to run home and behind me I heard the crash of my cell phone hit the pavement. It busted into a hundred pieces.
Who cares? This is the best day of my life!