GC: (deep breath)
BG: (steeples fingers, regards Carbo intently)
GC: Well, Bob, the kid is shaken. He's nervous when he plays the puck, he's missing long shots through the simplest of screens, his glove is slow and he's getting down on himself when he allows a goal. The team is expecting him to give up the lead every game, and it's hurting their confidence.
BG: Well, we've got a lot riding on Carey, and we don't want him to feel like he's failing.
GC: But Bob, he is failing. We're going to lose the series if he can't pick it up.
BG: I understand that, but it's a country thing. He's a cowboy who likes country music. All those songs are about tragic heroes. It's what he's into.
GC: That's just it, Bob...how can a guy with freakin' Garth Brooks on his face rise above disaster?
BG: You have to believe, Guy.
GC: I believe we're going to lose if we don't get better goaltending.
GC: (looks incredulously at his boss) Bob, are you drunk?
GC: So, we have to go with the kid again?
BG: (sits back down, steeples fingers)
GC: Alright then. I guess I'd better get to practice.
Carbo leaves Gainey and heads down to the ice.
Roland Melanson: Yeah, Carbo?
GC: We've got our orders. The kid's in again tomorrow.
RM: Jeez. We've got some work to do.
GC: Better work Halak hard today. Just in case.
RM: I'm on it.
Michael Ryder: Yeah, coach?
GC: You're staying an hour later today and shooting on an empty net.
MR: Am I in tomorrow?
GC: No, I just hate you and screwing with you makes me feel better.
MR: Sure coach. (To himself: I'm sooooo coming back to haunt you, you bastard. I don't care if I play for free next year!)
GC: You're in tomorrow.
Jaroslav Halak: NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! What da hell do I hev to do to get in da net? Kill a cheeken? Kill Price? What da hell? You suck! Dis team sucks!
Chris Higgins: So, does that mean no deking? Because I have a cool new move.
GC: (stares heavenward)