June 20, 2008
I've got a chance.
It's the chance based on a phone call from a fool. But it's better than nothing.
I got a call on my cell from Pete Satt today. Satt is a hockey agent, one of those guys who hangs around midget tournaments all across Canada, pumping up egos, hoping to land a client who will be the next Big Thing.
Like most agents he's mostly all bluster -- promising things he couldn't possibly deliver. I've known him since I met him at a tournament in Oshawa when I was 15. He wears these impossibly loud suit jackets with pants that never match, like he's a reject from a 1970's action flick.
He's got a handful of clients who are NHL players. No one special but that's not surprising. It's a crowded, ruthless field. I've seen junior players go through three agents in a season and remember they haven't even signed a contract yet.
I mean some players have had visits at home from Bobby Orr, who is an agent now. Who are you going to listen to: Some guy who has gone to law school or a Hall of Fame legend? It's no contest. Parents fall to their knees when Orr visits.
I'll give Satt credit for a couple of things. He works tirelessly. He is always on the phone. He's always talking; he knows everyone in hockey.
There was this game in Kingston two years ago when about 300 people showed up because there was a huge snowstorm. Satt was one of those people. He was sitting up high in the stands but you could hear him from the bench talking to people on his cell phone. Never stopped talking.
The problem is he almost always mixes up his facts. He's kind of an absent-minded type. He forgets dates, player's names and even events. He's terrible remembering first names. He'll simply call a player sport or kid, simply because he can't remember. It's very strange.
Anyway, this morning he calls me at like 8 am. He had probably talked to about 40 players like me -- hopeful late round picks -- by that time in the day.
"Hey, Hurst, it's me Satt. I got some great news," Satt said.
"What's up, Mr. Satt?" I asked, barely awake.
"I've been talking to a ton of NHL guys -- I can't tell you who you understand -- but they're saying teams are afraid of drafting Russians this year because the NHL has no transfer agreement with Russia. They're scared like an a cat in a room of rocking chairs. They figure if they draft a Ruskie, they won't be able to sign him and get him out of the country."
"What does that have to do with me," I asked
"Don't you understand? If teams don't draft the 20 are so Russians that are usually taken in the draft, that means they'll be more chance they'll take North American kids. Isn't that great? You got a chance, kid."
"I guess so."
"I've heard a mid-western team might be interested in you."
"WHAT! What team? Who told you that?"
"I can't tell you. You know what I honestly can't remember the team. I think it might have been St. Louis or Colorado or one of those places."
"Are you sure they said Bryan Hurst? Are you sure?"
"I think so ... I think it was you. I think they said Hurst or Hurtz or maybe it was Hirshey. Anyway I gotta a run. Remember if you're drafted who told you first. See ya."
"Wait-"
But it was too late he had hung up. You didn't phone Satt back. It was useless, the phone was constantly busy.
So I've got a chance. The Entry Draft is going to be the longest day of my life.
