Three Scoops is a Blast! (13 page)

RUSS: I appreciate what you’re saying but as I’ve told you before, the advice doesn’t really come from me. It comes from a very dear friend of mine, someone you refuse to believe in.

BRAD: You do understand my skepticism, don’t you?

RUSS: Not really.

BRAD: What you’re saying is I’m getting advice from an imaginary friend of an imaginary friend of mine, right?

RUSS: If you say so. She doesn’t seem so imaginary to me and what she says is always spot on.

BRAD: The advice has been excellent. When I wasn’t sure what career path to take, you convinced me start-up software development was a natural for me. And I’ve made a bundle.

RUSS: Absolutely true.

BRAD: And there have been several other times as well, although not as many as I would like. I’ll never forget when I made money betting on the Super Bowl. That was amazing.

RUSS: I remember. She told you, through me, to go against your team and pick the underdog, not only to cover the spread but to win outright. It paid off handsomely for you.

BRAD: Yes. It was a win-win situation. I was sure if I put money against my own team, it would give them a better chance of coming out victorious. It would be divine retribution.

RUSS: You have a fairly big opinion of yourself, don’t you?

BRAD: My only complaint is that you or this secret buddy of yours don’t help me often enough. But hang on a second, you’ve never told me before your other friend is a girl.

RUSS: If I don’t imagine a female companion, how am I ever supposed to meet a woman? Besides, you now have a girlfriend. Where’s that leave me? Do you want me to be lonely?

BRAD: I guess you’ve got a point there. Actually, I suppose it would defy logic if you didn’t have a special friend.

RUSS: One might even say it would be hypocritical of me.

BRAD: Yes, isn’t that interesting? You would be both denying your own self and losing out through self-denial. Why shouldn’t you have a sweetie? Is she nice?

RUSS: I think so.

BRAD: And you two spend your time talking about me?

RUSS: Give me a break. No!

BRAD: Well you must talk about me or how would she know what information to pass on.

RUSS: Sheila and I talk about all sorts of things. I could tell you it’s usually pillow talk, but that would be bragging. So let’s pretend she and I get together every night over dinner.

BRAD: And talk about me?

RUSS: We talk of world politics, the economy, movies, music and the latest trends. Feelings too, if I’m not careful. Then sometimes, occasionally, you come up in the conversation.

BRAD: I need the two of you to give me more tips.

RUSS: That won’t happen.

BRAD: Why not?

RUSS: Because Sheila doesn’t like you. She likes me. She only gives you enough useful information so you’ll keep coming back to me. She’s trying to keep me alive.

BRAD: What if I threaten to never see you again?

RUSS: You won’t. You’re both needy and greedy.

BRAD: Okay, is there anything she wants from me? I’d be happy to sign a contract.

RUSS: For what, your soul? Sheila won’t agree to something like that. She doesn’t have horns or a long pointy tail. She’s a sweetie and I’ll ask you to speak of her with respect.

BRAD: But she knows everything and she always gets it right. I have to tap into that.

RUSS: You’re exaggerating.

BRAD: Well she knows more than you do. Please explain.

RUSS: I think she can delve into your sub-conscious better than I can.

BRAD: That might make sense when it comes to my job or my relationships. But it doesn’t explain how she got the bet right.

RUSS: Don’t you have a theory that explains it? You’re always saying you cause what happens to your favorite teams. If you don’t do things in exactly a certain way, you’ll put a curse on them. For example, you know sometimes they play better when you’re not watching.

BRAD: That can’t really be possible. There are billions of people in the world. I can’t have a direct personal influence on the way a game turns out. Although I have to admit it does seem that way sometimes, doesn’t it. If I don’t put on my game-day jersey with the salsa stain on the front, comb what’s left of my hair in the wrong direction and eat nachos, they usually lose.

RUSS: It’s the deep sub-conscious at work. It’s where Sheila lives and thrives.

BRAD: That’s amazing. She can really go in there and make those things happen?

RUSS: Naw, I’m putting you on. I saw how she got the bet right. She flipped a coin.

BRAD: That can’t be true. Are you telling me I risked $1,000 on a coin toss?

RUSS: Yep. And you won $3,000. Pretty sweet, don’t you think?

BRAD: Okay, I still need some insight anyway. You know I’ve been seeing this new girl, Karen. I really like her.

RUSS: I am aware of that. I told you she was right for you. But only after Sheila gave her nod of approval.

BRAD: Right, well now I’ve bought her a ring and I’m thinking of asking her to marry me tonight. But I don’t know, I’m starting to have second thoughts.

RUSS: Why, what’s the matter?

BRAD: For one thing, if I tell her about you two, she’ll think I’m crazy.

RUSS: Go ahead and ask her to marry you. Sheila is convinced she’s right for you. And her intuition in these matters is dead on.

BRAD
(not entirely convinced)
: We’ll see.

Later that evening, Brad and Karen enjoyed a spectacular meal at their favourite Bistro. They were seated at a table with two extra spaces. At first, Karen was mildly disappointed since she noticed there were several intimate and romantic one-on-one table settings in remote candle-lit corners of the room. But the food and ambience were so good, she quickly recovered.

Finally, Brad broached the subject that had been dominating his thoughts for days. He asked Karen to marry him. But before she could answer, he explained there was something he had to tell her. Something that she might find alarming and which could cause their break-up.

Out of fairness, he wanted to make her aware of his one idiosyncrasy. He didn’t want Karen committing to something she might regret later. He told her about Russell to begin with and then he went on to outline the newest revelations about someone named Sheila.

Karen was less shocked than Fred thought she would be, although her first question wasn’t much of a surprise.

KAREN: Is that why we’re sitting at a table in the middle of the room with two extra chairs?

BRAD: Yes, I’m embarrassed to admit one of the side-effects of my condition is rampant superstition. I thought it appropriate that Russell and Sheila be here tonight for this big event.

KAREN: Then let me say you’ve made a big mistake.

BRAD: I was afraid of that. I’m so sorry. I’ll go far away and leave you in peace.

KAREN: That’s not what I meant. What I’m saying is when you made the reservation for four, you should have made it for six.
(Pause and deep breath.)
I have some friends I would like you to meet as well.

The Personal Injury Attorneys to the Stars

February 19, 2010

Tracy Tinsdale was at her wits’ end. This was the Olympics in which she was supposed to shine. Instead, she was struggling again. While the problem was mainly mental, it wasn’t all her fault. In fact, her condition had recently been given a name. It was going down in the medical books as a modern ailment. Often, despite all efforts to resist, she would find her head spinning like a figure skating diva.

Her Olympic career had started at the Vancouver-Whistler Games. Tracy was a star in the firmament of ladies’ downhill, super G and giant slalom ski racing. At the age of 18 in 2010, she made a respectable showing but didn’t make it to the podium. That had never really been in anyone’s expectations, including her own.

The media spokespeople used the usual phrases to describe her first appearances on the Olympic stage. She was coming back nicely from injury, a bad bruise from a nasty fall in a world cup event at Val d’isére France. She was well-positioned for the next Olympics scheduled for 2014 in Sochi Russia. And she recorded several personal bests. No wins, but personal bests. That was the consolation prize that had seen many other top athletes through tough times.

When the 2014 Games arrived and Tracy again failed to medal, there was more disappointment expressed at her performances. But she stepped up in the rankings. Also, in events immediately prior to and after the Olympics, she did very well. In fact, her career took off. The product endorsements flowed in and life in general became much easier. Still, there was the nagging dissatisfaction with failing to achieve success under the biggest microscope of all, the Winter Games.

Now it was 2018 and this was supposed to be Tracy’s year. In fact, the whole nation was counting on her. What everyone else did not know, however, was that Tracy had developed a severe case of nervous distraction. The offending party was advertising. She consulted, in secret, several sports psychologists and was surprised and relieved to hear she was not alone in her distress.

In fact, the medical fraternity had only recently given her condition a name – Games Advertising Philia or GAP for short, not to be confused with the clothing store chain that had its own love of advertising. Rather than putting her mental energies to work attempting to analyze her moves on the hill, Tracy was spending all of her time trying to figure out how various products might be of benefit to her.

The Olympics were a special case when it came to promotional efforts. Every firm wanted to tie its products or services to the Games in some way. This resulted in some strange alignments. Tracy could imagine the connection between an athlete’s training regimen and healthy food products, energy drinks and vitamins. This might also extend to coffee. Many people need a jolt to wake up in the morning. And beer. Lots of people need a relaxant to take the edge off after a stressful day.

The connection was more tenuous when it came to motor oil, rust-proofing and auto body shops. Of course, there was always the issue of transporting oneself to various venues. The relevance of other ads was more remote. Computers? Come to think of it, Tracy was able to study her digitally recorded moves on her laptop while resting. How about cell phones? She laughed to herself when she imagined phoning for the latest weather conditions as she was hurtling down the slopes.

Financial services? Tracy struggled to come up with much of a connection. Except she would be more likely to put this product to good use if she came first or second in one of her events. The lost opportunity cost of failure was steep.

Nevertheless, Tracy’s obsession with advertising was jeopardizing her chances of success. What she would have dearly liked was the insertion of video messages in the lens’ corners of her goggles. That way she could monitor products and services while both training and racing. Alas, that day was still some distance away.

To give the appearance of de-commercializing the Games, actual signage was banned from ice stadium boards and the fencing along mountain ski runs. It was a smart public relations move by Games organizers. Tracy was grateful for that much. She had no resistance to temptation. Had the signs been up, she knew she would be pausing to check them out while shushing down the slopes.

Tracy had it bad. Her addiction to advertising was debilitating. Thankfully, she’d learned one valuable lesson in life. Be careful who you jettison on your trail to the top. The people you encounter along the way can be really important to you. You never know who is going to become your friend over the longer course of life.

Tracy had met Inga way back in Vancouver. Inga was from Estonia and they’d been bitter rivals on the skiing circuit. Tracy had found Inga’s aggressive approach to competition off-putting. But over the years, they had developed a grudging respect for each other, at first, and then a deeper appreciation and affection.

Ultimately, Inga was the one Tracy chose to confide in. Missing gold, silver or bronze was costing Tracy millions of dollars in extra endorsements. Somebody should be made to pay. Inga had contacts who would know what to do.

While Inga represented an Eastern European nation in sporting events, she did her training in the United States. She became part of an active expatriate community. Inga was the one who introduced Tracy to certain people who were able to help her, along with several others, when her latest Olympic dreams collapsed.

Sven Lindquist and Vladimir Kolnitzen were a pair of North American-trained lawyers who respectively left their homelands in Sweden and Russia in their early teens. Standing somewhat apart from their other classmates, they became close friends in law school and set up practice together as personal injury attorneys. Initially, they represented asbestos workers and motorcycle accident victims.

Lately, they had branched out into a new lucrative arena of legalistic legerdemain. They started taking on the grievance cases of champions whose mental faculties, senses of well-being and, not insignificantly, financial fortunes had been adversely impaired by corporate advertising. Due recompense was their stock in trade.