Most sports teams operate under the tradition of ‘what happens in the locker room stays in the locker room’ and the Mighty Ducks were no different. But since it’s been a while since I wore the uniform, and the company that owns the show just pulled the plug, I guess I can hit you with the unauthorized quack-all.
I could … share the story about those times teammates brought weapons to set or piles of drugs and Tom Sawyer Island but I wouldn’t want to ruin the reputation of a children’s classic.
I could … talk about how a few of us Quackers gave the prick who played MacGyver a split lip for bullying kids who could barely skate during hockey camp, but instead of tarnishing the stalwart legacy of Richard Dean Anderson, I’d like to begin “my tales from the pond” with algebra.
Yes, algebra. Mine to be exact.
It was the winter of my freshman year and I was falling behind. It didn’t matter I was in what was about to become a cinematic classic; one that would spawn sequels, a reboot, and its very own sports franchise (whose swag would soon dominate sports apparel and challenge the iconic logos of the day in terms of revenue share and … make a few people a heck of a lot of money — and a few other people very upset that they were not cut in on that).
But again, that’s not my story to tell. And besides, I don’t want the Disney police to dispatch Goofy to my door to merc me for quacking too loud about too much and offend their shareholders. So I’ll stick to Algebra … for now.
But to talk about the joys of doing Algebra in the locker room of a hockey arena I must talk about my father.
My dad has had more jobs than most humans. I believe his first one was at a funeral home when he was in swaddling clothes where he would sweep up at night, alone, with all the bodies.
He’s been a soda jerk, wired a nuclear power plant, and everything in between. He’s always been what you call “good at numbers.” I, on the other hand, am not what you would call “good at numbers.”
And it was just him and me - alone - for four months during a long Minnesota winter. My father’s big fear was that I would fall behind. Like he did. And he knew how hard it was to crawl out from that; so to him, it didn’t matter how big the movie was, I wouldn’t be alive to hoist Gordon Bombay into the air if I didn’t pass algebra.
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