"FLY ON THE WALL II"

INT. UNITED CENTER - THURSDAY, JULY 23, 2009, 4:20 P.M.

FORMER GENERAL MANAGER DALE TALLON sits behind an empty desk, SNIFFLES as he scribbles a hand-written note in pen. He pauses to wipe a tear away as he looks over the letter.

BLACKHAWKS "SENIOR ADVISOR" DALE TALLON (V.O.)
Dearest Marty ... You have to know how much it hurts me every waking moment of every single day that we are now separated from one another in this godforsaken world. While I'm eternally grateful that Rocky's still a big ol' sentimental son-of-a-gun and is keeping me on the payroll, I can't tell you how sorry I am that those goddamned Bowmans came in here and let McDonough disrespect you like that. You obviously have to know that you would still be a Chicago Blackhawk today if you had simply just——

Door FLIES OPEN.

BLACKHAWKS GENERAL MANAGER STAN BOWMAN
Dale, did you get that paperwork for "BWAH" filed like I asked you?

Tallon opens desk drawer, quickly pulls out a stack of blank papers. He begins fumbling with them, putting his letter to Havlat in the back of the pile.

DALE
Oh, it——it's here somewhere. Ha-ha-how didja' spell that feller's name again?

STAN
Just like it sounds, man. "BWAH": B-O-I-S ... "BWAH."

DALE
Oh, yeah. (chuckles nervously) Of course. Of course, I knew that.

Door FLIES OPEN.

BLACKHAWKS PRESIDENT JOHN MCDONOUGH
Fuckin-A! You guys got the game on in here?

Dale and Stan look at each other, then back to John. They shrug their shoulders.

JOHN
That hillbilly on that other baseball team in Chicago's got a perfect game going right now! You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?

Stan nods knowingly.

STAN
Ah, I see.
(RUBS CHIN)
Make the necessary calls?

Door FLIES OPEN, GIRLS SHRIEKING.

BLACKHAWKS RIGHT WING MARIAN HOSSA

Sorry guys, am I late?

JOHN
Terrific, you're here. What are your plans tomorrow?

MARIAN
Well, I actually had planned on trying to spend the weekend with my brother. I haven't seen him in, gosh, I don't know how long. He really hasn't sounded the same lately. But we were going to——

JOHN
How's your shoulder feeling?

Marian shrugs.

MARIAN
I don't know. Still a little sore, I guess. What, do you guys want to give me a physical——you know, now that I've already gone and signed a twelve-year deal with ya?

John and Stan nod "yes" vigorously.

STAN
We feel you should take it from our team doctor, Marian.

Door FLIES OPEN.

BLACKHAWKS HEAD TEAM PHYSICIAN MICHAEL TERRY, M.D.
You guys needed those X-rays?

STAN
Doctor, how does it look?

MICHAEL
Well, we feel that without immediate surgery, Marian's going to run the risk of suffering something like this.

Michael hands X-rays to John and Stan. They both do a FULL-BODY SHIVER.

MARIAN
What? Is it bad?

Stan sets the X-rays on Tallon's desk.

STAN
That's it. Buddy, cancel your trip. We're putting you under the knife tomorrow.

Stan SLAPS Marian on his bad shoulder. Sound of horrified women SCREAMING.

MARIAN
Shit ... easy, man.

Dale slides the Havlat letter out from the bottom of his pile of blank papers. John turns on the television set in the corner of the office.

JOHN
Dale, write this down.

Dale flips over the Havlat letter, pulls a pen from his breast pocket. On the TV, DeWayne Wise does THIS.

JOHN
"For immediate release: The Chicago Blackhawks announced today that team savior Marian Hossa——"

OTHER BLACKHAWKS "SENIOR ADVISOR" SCOTTY BOWMAN
(clears throat)

STAN
"Right wing Marian Hossa."

JOHN
Right ... "Right wing Marian Hossa will undergo surgery tomorrow, June 24, on his right shoulder to operate on ... you know, something not worth freaking out about."

MICHAEL
It's just a small rotator cuff tear. I mean, he'll miss the season-opener, maybe another 20, 40 games. You know, no biggie.

Dale stops writing, glances at the Havlat letter on the other side.

JOHN
We need to get this out to the media immediately. If we can get him in and out without anybody noticing, there'll be no point in making a big stink about it while he's recovering.

MARIAN
Works for me, I guess. But I mean, can I get the actual surgery done maybe like Monday. You know, still see my brother this weekend and THEN, go under the knife.

Stan and John look at Marian, then each other. They both rub their chins and look to Scotty.

SCOTTY
(clears throat)

John throws his hands up in the air and tilts his head with a look of, "Aw, shucks."

JOHN
Well, no arguing with you Scotty. You know best. Sorry there, Mirian, but sounds like your little bro's gonna just have to wait to see you when you're in recovery.

Mirian's shoulders sag in disappointment.

JOHN
This works out too perfectly. Gentlemen, are we all goddamned geniuses or what?

Door FLIES OPEN.

BLACKHAWKS CHAIRMAN ROCKY WIRTZ

Uh, John ... sorry to interrupt, but somebody's here to see you.

John and Stan look to one another, confused.

JOHN
Who?

NHL DEPUTY COMMISSIONER BILL DALY
Sixty-three million dollars over a dozen years? Are you serious?

SCOTTY
(clears throat)

STAN
I think what my father meant to say was, "Sixty-two-point-eight."

BILL
Well, I think the NHL would like to ask you a few questions about it and something called a "collective bargaining agreement."

John, Rocky, Stan and Scotty all SLAP HANDS across the sides of their faces.

FREEZE on moment, title card:

"TO BE CONTINUED?"

FADE OUT