A special thanks to Amy Farr for ideas in creating the story
Head coach Dave Lewis acknowledged his presence and motioned for him to wait a moment. He seemed to be emerged in a deep conversation with assistant coach, Joey Kocur. The two normally wouldn’t discuss team matters in front of a player, but they never worried about what Datsyuk might overhear, since his English still wasn’t all that strong.
“…think we should do? Really don’t know if that’s….” As Kocur was speaking, Pavel struggled to pick up what they were saying.
“So…you think, Joey? Guess we better…..ship Shanny out….” Hearing these words from the coach made Datsyuk stand upright in shock. Without waiting to speak to the coach, he turned to hustle away and ran smack dab into Brett Hull’s chest.
“Hey there, Pavs!!” Hull gave him a wink and a smile. “What’s the rush this morning, kid?”
In a jumble of Russian, Datsyuk tried to explain what he had just heard inside the office, until he looked at Hull’s dumbfounded expression and realized whom he was talking to.
“Shanny – gone! Trade!! Dave no like, said, ship out!”
Brett cocked his head to the side. “Say again?”
Exasperated, Pavel exclaimed, “Irish jig, no more!!”
Understanding now, Brett grabbed Pavel’s shoulders and exclaimed, “Holy SHIT! They traded Brendan Shanahan??”
Without waiting for a response, Hull released the young Russian and walked quickly over to where the three members of the Grind Line stood talking. Watching from a distance, Datsyuk watched looks of horror, astonishment, and disbelief fall over their faces. Realizing that he had just sent the Brett Hull gossip meter off the charts, he wondered if that was such a good idea.
Soon the entire locker room knew of Shanny’s horrendous fate. He was being traded to Columbus, the deepest bottomless hole any hockey player could find himself in. They didn’t know the names yet, but he was going for a solid forward and defenseman, plus a first round draft pick in the 2004 entry draft. At his stall, Hull sat surrounded by throngs of reporters.
“I know; it’s a very sad day for Detroit hockey. I don’t give two shits who we got in return, you just can’t replace a Brendan Shanahan, on the ice or off it.” Getting a little emotional, Hull glanced away for a moment. “You know, I’ve played with Brendan a lot over the course of my career, and I can’t tell you how much I’ll miss the guy. He’s led such a long and distinguished career, and well…now it’s pretty much over! Going to a hellhole like that? I mean, if I were him, I’d hang up the skates, tell Ken Holland to fuck off, and sit on my ass for the rest of my years to come, drinking beer and getting fat.”
Hull was about to continue his rant when he noticed Shanahan stepping into the locker room. Brushing past the reporters, he jogged over to offer his consolations.
“I am so sorry, pal. I just can’t believe it…how ridiculous can you get, you know? Just remember, I’m here for you if you need me.”
One by one, his teammates lined up to tell him just how sorry they were. When Datsyuk’s turn came, he brushed aside a tear and uttered, “No more Irish jig?”
Hull stepped up and took over, patting the young player on the back as he led him away. “That’s right, son, but let’s not make this any harder than it already is.”
Joe Kocur stepped out of the coaches’ office and beckoned, “Hey, Shanny!! Can we talk to you for a sec?”
The rest of the team watched with heavy hearts as Brendan walked into the office to hear about his relocation into the pit of hell. Not more than five minutes had gone by before the big Irishman stepped out and with a tight smile to the guys, and walked right back out of the room.
After practice, Datsyuk drove home and lazed around for much of the rest of the day with the TV tuned into SportsCenter. Just as he stepped into the kitchen to make dinner, Dan Patrick began with breaking news. “ESPN has just received word that star forward for the Stanley Cup Champion Detroit Red Wings, Brendan Shanahan, has been traded to the Columbus Bluejackets for an un-named forward, defenseman, plus a first and second round draft pick in the 2004 entry draft. Talk about going from the highs to the lows in one day!”
Later that evening, Brendan Shanahan sat on his couch with his dog, Barclay, and flipped the TV to NHL2Night. He heard his wife calling for him from the next room. At the same time, John Buccigross’s voice filtered into the living room, “Reports out of Detroit have the defending champs trading star –” Hitting the power button on the remote, he headed into the kitchen to see what his wife needed.
The next day, Pavel Datsyuk opened the door and walked into much more subdued locker room than he was used to seeing right before a game. Someone had placed that day' Detroit Free Press on an empty table with the headline screaming, “Shanny evicted – winger survived years in Scotty’s doghouse, now dealt to wolves by Lewis.”
Datsyuk thumped down onto his seat and couldn’t help gazing across the Shanny’s vacant stall, with the jersey and equipment still inside. Suddenly the door flew open and in sauntered Mr. Shanahan himself, decked out in black slacks and a sports jacket and tie. He smiled and spoke up, “Hey fellas! What’s happening?”
Everyone sat and stared, looking stunned. The ever-vocal Brett Hull piped up, “What are you doing here, man? Don’t you have a plane to catch?”
Shanny laughed. “What are you talking about? More like an elevator up to the press box!”
“But…weren’t you traded to Columbus?”
“WHAT?!?!? I wasn’t traded!!! I have a day-to-day groin injury, jackass! I’m sitting out tonight’s game but I’ll be back tomorrow. Where in the world did you get the idea that I was traded?”
Hull looked accusingly at Pavel Datsyuk, who sputtered, “Ship out! But but…”
Shanahan rolled his eyes. “And we let this kid walk around without a translator? Joking, Pavs. Sit out, not ship out. For one game!” He laughed. “Well, good thing we cleared that up, we wouldn’t want a rumor like that getting around – do you know the trouble that could have caused?”