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Ottawa Centaurs @OttawaCentaurs
asked our players to sign our autographs, they did not like it very much :((( [Video Attached]
[HARRIS enters one of the gyms. BARRETT is sitting on a bench press, no bar while he watches something on the tablet in front of him. The audio says it’s a Brooklyn Griffins game.]
[HARRIS happily shows the image to the camera. The photo in his hand is of a fat baby Troy Barrett in a pumpkin. The baby is somehow pulling the same slightly strained expression BARRETT is pulling right now.]
HARRIS: Hey Troy.
BARRETT: Yeah?
HARRIS: Sign this for me?
[HARRIS hands BARRETT the photo and a pen.]
BARRETT, not looking up: We don’t have room for another dog.
HARRIS: I— Troy.
BARRETT: We don’t.
[BARRETT signs the paper without even looking at it. Then hands HARRIS the pen and goes back to reviewing plays on the tablet in front of him.]
[HARRIS turns to look at the person recording the video, baffled, confused and concerned.]
HARRIS: I could’ve made you sign anything?
[BARRETT finally looks up.]
BARRETT: Oh. Uh— I didn’t just sign actual adoption papers, right?
HARRIS: No.
BARRETT: Then it’s probably fine? Um— can I go back to reviewing my footage now or do you need something else?
[BARRETT finally notices the phone pointed at him and shifts uncomfortably.]
HARRIS: Go back to what you were doing.
[The shot is of LEVIN and HAAS talking in the tunnel. They’re both facing each other, HAAS has his arms crossed and LEVIN is actively taking his hockey gear off and dropping it next to him.]
[HARRIS walks towards the two of them. HAAS looks up, immediately notices both HARRIS and the person recording and his face drops.]
HAAS: Whatever you’re doing is above your paygrade—
HARRIS: It certainly is not!
[HAAS looks incredibly afraid, looking off-camera like he’s about to bolt for the nearest exit.]
HAAS: Stop approaching me with a camera.
HARRIS: I just want you to sign something for me.
LEVIN: I’ll sign something for you, Harris.
HARRIS: I know you will Artemy.
LEVIN: Why does only Luca get to sign something? I have a whole signature prepared.
[HARRIS enters the frame, whoever is holding the phone recording is trying very hard not to giggle. HARRIS has a folded piece of paper and looks delighted about the entire thing. He hands the piece of paper to HAAS.]
[HAAS looks at the paper before shrieking and dropping it onto the ground. He goes to pick it up, but LEVIN beats him to it and picks it up. His entire face breaks out into a bright smile. HAAS swipes for the photo but LEVIN shows it to the camera proudly.]
[The image is of a younger Luca Haas, he is about twelve or thirteen. He has an emo fringe swept over his forehead, some slightly questionably placed eyeliner. On his head is a fluffy brown llama hat. He is wearing a TATINOF Europe sweater and tour pass. He also has cat whiskers drawn on his face. He’s grinning at the camera, giving a little peace symbol.]
HAAS: Oh god.
[HAAS turns an impressive shade of red.]
HARRIS: Oh, you don’t like that one? I have another you can sign.
[HARRIS hands another folded piece of paper over. It is HAAS in the same outfit, but he is smiling as Dan Howell of ‘danisnotonfire’ and Phil Lester of ‘amazingphil’ fame both stand next to him smiling at the camera.]
[LEVIN starts hysterically laughing as he looks at the mortified expression on HAAS’s face.]
HARRIS: Oh, I’m sorry Arty, did you think that was funny?
[LEVIN’s face immediately pales as HARRIS reaches into his pocket to pull out another image.]
LEVIN: Wait no—
[The image shown is of a younger Artemy Levin, he has dark brown hair longer than his shoulders and quite raggedy. He is wearing a white shirt with cat whiskers drawn over it. Resting on his head is a Dan face mask which is slightly horrifying. Next to him is a girl who is a little bit older than him with dark brown hair in a braid and a matching homemade cat whiskers shirt. They’re both grinning widely at the camera.]
LEVIN: I— how did you even get this?
HARRIS: I have my ways.
LEVIN: Did my sister send it to you, that [beep]ing traitor?
[HAAS is looking at the photo curiously.]
HAAS: Do you still watch them?
LEVIN: I— they like never upload. There’s nothing to watch.
HAAS: You are not nerdy enough to like Dan and Phil.
LEVIN: The [beep] is that supposed to mean?
HAAS: You like… went outside during your childhood. I asked you about your interests and you talked to me about surfing and kayaking for two hours straight. Then you asked if I wanted to go hiking.
LEVIN: Well, do you?
HAAS: No.
LEVIN: You are aware you’re like an elite athlete right?
HARRIS: So… am I going to get any signatures?
HAAS: No. Goodbye.
[HAAS leaves.]
LEVIN: Wait, I'll sign mine!
[Shot of LEVIN and HARRIS cheerily posing with the photo which is now signed.]
[HAYES is actively packing things into his hockey bag, not even looking at HARRIS as he approaches.]
HARRIS: Hey Wyatt, could you sign this for me?
HAYES: For charity? I’ll sign another stick if we need to.
[HAYES finally looks up and his face drops.]
[The camera pans to a photo of HAYES when he’s in university. He is wearing truly concerningly tight skinny jeans and has questionably done frosted tips despite also having blond hair. He is wearing a red flannel over a denim jacket which is over another flannel shirt that is buttoned up. He has a beer bottle in his hand and is sticking his tongue out at the camera which is reasonably blurry.]
HAYES: What— huh. Who— what?
[HAYES looks really, truly baffled by the entire thing. His eyes dart from the photo to
HARRIS: Can I get your signature?
HAYES: Is— is this like… for charity? Where did you— huh?
HARRIS: It can be for charity.
HAYES: Did Lisa give you that? Where— huh?
HARRIS: I know your internet footprint, they used this photo on Wattpad for a while.
HAYES: What— these aren’t real words.
[HARRIS just holds the photo out towards HAYES and shakes the pen in his hand. HAYES takes the pen wordlessly and autographs the photo while looking at it like he can make it explode with his mind if he tries hard enough.]
[HAYES hands back the now-signed photo, looking afraid.]
HARRIS: Thank you Hayes!
[HAYES slowly walks away, muttering something about ‘Wattpad’ underneath his breath as he goes.]
[The photo is of a ten-year-old Wesley Young who is wearing a Glenelg Football Club jersey. His face is painted yellow and black as he holds a Glenelg Football Club scarf up in the air. He’s mid-scream with only the amount of rage a very small child could hold.]
HARRIS: Would you sign this for me please?
[Unbothered YOUNG takes the paper HARRIS gives him. His face breaks out into a wide smile as he sees what photo it is.]
YOUNG: Oh man I miss them.
HARRIS: What are you even doing here?
YOUNG: Watching a Glenelg Football game… but like… Aussie Rules football not soccer— or American Football. I grew up in Glenelg and they were my team, my aunt and I used to go to all of their games.
HARRIS: Why were you screaming so loudly?
YOUNG: I was excited. Did you know they won the Grand Final like a few days ago, all my family went and I was stuck in stupid Canada… I should’ve gone into footie. I make better money here though, so… maybe not.
HARRIS: You aren’t very embarrassed about this photo.
YOUNG: Nah, this is pretty normal. This is the equivalent of finding a photo of a Canadian kid screaming about hockey. Do you have one of Holmy screaming at a hockey match?
HARRIS: No.
YOUNG: Man, I love Glenelg.
[YOUNG walks up to the camera, reaching his arm out to hold it and point it closer at his face.]
YOUNG: If you ever find yourself in Adelaide, go to Glenelg. It’s the best suburb and I’m not just saying it ‘cause I’m from there. We got beaches, we got a bar on the beach, check out North Terrace, then go and check out a Glenelg Football game. They used to be flops but they’re now champions— like we will be.
[YOUNG winks at the camera before darting out the door, singing ‘Oh we're from Tigerland’ loudly and repeatedly as he leaves.]
[HARRIS looks at the camera.]
HARRIS: Why does it feel like I was the one who got pranked?
HARRIS: Hey Bee, could I get you to sign this please?
VAN DER BIJ: Yeah sure— what.
[VAN DER BIJ’s face drops. The camera pans to a photo of VAN DER BIJ wearing an elaborately painted pair of clogs. He is wearing more clogs on his hands and grinning at the camera. Worse than that he’s also somehow squeezed into a very small Elsa dress. He has a blonde wig on his head.]
VAN DER BIJ: What— is that from my eighteenth?
HARRIS: Can you sign it?
VAN DER BIJ, looking at the camera: Mama, if you see this— this is photoshopped. This isn’t me. On my eighteenth birthday I was a very responsible boy and went home at seven in the evening and I drank tea.
HARRIS: I feel like I shouldn’t be hearing this.
VAN DER BIJ: I did not get drunk with my friends and then found the very nice handmade clogs that you got me for my eighteenth birthday. Then I did not sing Frozen songs at the top of my lungs in the street to the point the police were called.
HARRIS: This sounds weirdly specific.
VAN DER BIJ: That is what an irresponsible son would do, which I am not.
[VAN DER BIJ looks at the photo again and lets out a small breath.]
VAN DER BIJ: Wait did Willem send this to you?
HARRIS: I respect journalistic integrity and can not reveal my sources.
HARRIS: LaPointe can you sign this for me?
LAPOINTE: Yeah.
[The photo shown is a badly drawn stick figure.]
[LAPOINTE screws up his face.]
LAPOINTE: What’s this?
HARRIS: You don’t have any embarrassing photos of you that I could find.
LAPOINTE: I don’t?
HARRIS: No. I reached out to your mum and she said I wasn’t allowed to embarrass you on the internet, and I am not going to cross your mother.
[LAPOINTE pouts as he looks at the paper in front of him.]
LAPOINTE: So I just get a stick figure?
HARRIS: I didn’t want you to be left out.
LAPOINTE: Surely you could’ve used one from after Hollander’s and Roz’s wedding?
HARRIS: I have a feeling none of those are appropriate.
[LAPOINTE frowns, tapping his chin as he looks off into the middle distance.]
LAPOINTE: Probably not. Give me a second.
[LAPOINTE grabs his phone, scrolling through something rapidly before showing his phone to the camera. The photo he shows is of LAPOINTE when he was in his early teenage years, his hair is bright red and he’s wearing a My Chemical Romance shirt.]
LAPOINTE: This was my profile picture on LinkedIn for years.
HARRIS: What?
LAPOINTE: I thought it was cool and interesting.
HARRIS: You have LinkedIn?
LAPOINTE: Obviously.
[LAPOINTE turns the phone back to himself, opening an app and drawing his signature over it. He shows it back to the camera smiling.]
[DYKSTRA is looking at one of the speakers in the locker room like his life depends on it. There’s movement around him but no one else is in the video. Every time DYKSTRA looks at the speaker too long his smile gets a little bit wider.]
[DYKSTRA clearly has the evil intent of making the queerest team in the NHL endure country music.]
HARRIS: Dykstra! I have a photo for you to sign.
[DYKSTRA looks up, afraid he’s been caught doing something worse than he is. He relaxes when he realises he’s not going to get yelled at for eyeing the speaker and potentially making people endure country music.]
DYKSTRA: Oh, mornin’ Harris.
[HARRIS is holding a photo of DYKSTRA when he was twenty. He’s sitting on the back of a horse, posing towards the camera. His haircut is questionably short for his face, and he is wearing a truly impressive amount of denim and has two cowboy hats. One on his head and he’s holding the other one.]
DYKSTRA: I thought I deleted this…
HARRIS: You used it as your profile picture for seven years.
DYKSTRA: I… who do you want it made out to?
HARRIS: Me.
[DYKSTRA dutifully signs the photo. ‘To Harris Drover, the biggest pain in everyone’s side but seriously how are you getting these photos. From, Evan Dykstra’]
HARRIS: I am going to frame this.
DYKSTRA: If I go to yours and Barrett’s and this is on the wall I’ll be the DJ for your wedding.
HARRIS: First of all you will not, second of all what wedding?
[DYKSTRA immediately looks panicked. Chaos breaks out around the locker room.]
[HARD CUT.]
[JONES is crouched on the floor, inspecting something on the floor with a strange amount of devotion. He looks up as he sees footsteps approaching him and his entire posture changes as he notices that the social media people are walking towards him.]
JONES: [beep] off.
HARRIS: Could you sign this for me?
[The photo features a fifteen-year-old Gareth Jones wearing a het gymreig (Welsh hat) with a flag of St David’s wrapped around his shoulders. He’s grinning at the camera, showing a missing tooth. He is also holding a bright pink iced cupcake in his hand.]
[JONES stares at the photo for a few seconds.]
JONES: Where the fuck did you get this?
HARRIS: Just around.
JONES: You’re havin’ me on. This is not on the internet, did my mam give it to you? I swear to [beep]ing God.
HARRIS: Can you sign it?
[JONES snatches the photo and scrunches it into a ball, where he then pelts it down the hallway.]
LEVIN, distantly: OW?
[The moment is perfectly peaceful. BOOD is standing in a corner grinning at his phone, he looks relaxed and happy. It is a shame Harris Drover and his bloodlust for social media content is going to ruin that. BOOD groans as he sees the phone pointed towards him and HARRIS.]
[HARRIS shows the camera the photo with a wide grin. It’s a photo of Bood from when he would have been about fifteen, it’s a professionally taken photo. The photo is pretty good, showing a smiling BOOD at the camera. It’s a good photo, but was taken in the awkward years of BOOD’s youth where he has braces and doesn’t know how to pose with a photo.]
BOOD: Do we have to do this?
HARRIS: The word is getting around then.
BOOD: Jones actually ripped a beanbag apart he was so mad that someone sent you that photo. Haas is still bright red from whatever you showed him. Alright… what’s the damage?
[HARRIS just grins.]
BOOD: Is it going to be the one of me in the apron?
HARRIS: Nope!
BOOD: Is it going to be the photo of me crying when I found out Roz traded to us?
HARRIS: Also no, but a very good guess.
BOOD: Uh— is it going to be when my nieces did my hair?
HARRIS: You can keep going, or I can show you the one I actually chose.
[BOOD sighs. HARRIS reveals the photo and BOOD shrieks.]
[BOOD snatches the paper away before ripping it in two and then stomping on it on the ground. He then picks the paper up again and rips it into about twenty tiny pieces that flutter onto the ground like confetti. He looks up from the now crumpled and ripped paper on the ground.]
BOOD, looking surprised with himself: Sorry that was like— visceral.
[HOLMBERG is sitting in what appears to be some kind of kitchen that has never been seen on the video before. He’s sitting on the counter on his phone, and looks up in fear as soon as he sees a phone pointing at him.]
[He starts looking around for HARRIS like HOLMBERG is in a horror movie.]
[HARRIS pops up right next to him. It is unclear how he got there that quickly.]
HARRIS: Hey Holmy—
[HOLMBERG screams and throws his phone across the room.]
HARRIS: Can you sign this for me?
HOLMBERG: Luca and Arty warned me about this. How did you even find me?
HARRIS: How did I find you in my staff kitchen?
HOLMBERG: Okay. Yeah. Fair. Alright, what’s the damage?
[There are two photos on this page. The first photo is of HOLMBERG, probably around eight or nine. He’s sitting in the stands of an arena, wearing a ‘24 HOLLANDER’ Team Canada jersey. He is flipping someone off. HOLMBERG looks disgusted.]
[Next to it is the photo from the behind angle. A very young HOLMBERG is flipping off a younger ILYA ROZANOV who is on the ice in a team Russia jersey, yelling something back at the crowd.]
HOLMBERG: Is Roz going to see this?
HARRIS: Probably. Could we get some context?
HOLMBERG: Uh— that’s the 2010 World Junior Hockey Championships, it was in Ottawa. Russia had just scored a goal and the crowd was booing them. I was very passionate about hockey and Shane Hollander…
HARRIS: How did you feel when Shane got the winning goal?
HOLMBERG: Uh… very proud. I— are they gonna see this?
HARRIS: Shane doesn’t watch these, Ilya does sometimes but it’s anyone’s guess.
HOLMBERG: I mean Shane being Ottawa’s royalty isn’t like… a new fact to anyone. But being able to see the game being played in Ottawa and then Canada won and— I really wanted to be like Hollander when I was young.
HARRIS: And to destroy Ilya Rozanov?
HOLMBERG: Did you hear he can probably play for team Canada next year— it’s been over four years since he represented Russia. If Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander both play for Team Canada at this year’s Olympics…
[HOLMBERG stares off into the distance, an increasingly maniacal smile taking over his face.]
[The video starts outside what looks like an office. HARRIS leans towards the camera.]
HARRIS: I need to be sneakier about this one or else Shane will just run away. I tried to get them alone but they’re literally never alone.
[Cut to: ROZANOV and HOLLANDER are standing next to each other in front of a table. The table has a tablet that’s playing some kind of hockey video. HOLLANDER is explaining something with his hands and ROZANOV is nodding, arms crossed.]
[ROZANOV says something else and HOLLANDER rolls his eyes, he taps on the tablet again and then flicks ROZANOV in the forehead. ROZANOV opens his mouth to do something else, but HOLLANDER’s eyes land on the phone with a freakish sense of it.]
HARRIS: Shane! Ilya! I need you to sign something for me real quick.
[HOLLANDER immediately looks nervous.]
HOLLANDER: Uh— is this about the Centaur’s donation to the Canadian Cancer Society because I thought that came from the organisation not us— why are you recording us?
HARRIS: No, no, not about the donation. I just have some fans who would like some photos of you signed.
ROZANOV, suspiciously: What for?
[HARRIS reveals one of the printed out photos.]
[The photo is of ROZANOV. He is wearing an Adidas tracksuit and squatting amongst the snow. He’s a teenager, and pointing at an unconscious wolf next to him. He’s also holding a bottle of vodka and has a firefighter’s hat on.]
[ROZANOV’s face goes very blank as he tries to accept that situation in front of him.]
[HOLLANDER very, very slowly turns towards his husband.]
HOLLANDER: What the fuck are you doing with a wolf, Rozanov?
ROZANOV: Posing, obviously. It was sleeping.
HOLLANDER: What the fuck?
[The video speeds up as HOLLANDER and ROZANOV argue in high pitched noises because of how quickly the video is sped up. The video slows down as ROZANOV reaches out to grab the paper and pen HARRIS has held out for him.]
HOLLANDER: You freak out over birds but posing with a sleeping wolf is fine?
ROZANOV: I was very drunk.
HOLLANDER: It was the middle of the day!
ROZANOV: I am very Russian.
HARRIS: And Shane could you sign this one for me—
[The photo is revealed to a teenaged HOLLANDER. He is grinning at the camera, with one arm thrown around a body that is cut out of the photo. He is wearing giant jeans that are far too large for him, a long sleeved black shirt and a shorter red t-shirt with tasteful rips all over it to make it look a bit grunge.]
[Most noticeably he has two earring in his left ear and a skateboard leaning against the wall next to him.]
[HOLLANDER quickly loses the colour from his face.]
HOLLANDER: How… what… I— not even my mum has that photo.
ROZANOV: YOU HAVE PIERCED EARS?
[ROZANOV reaches for HOLLANDER’s ear, starting to look around it for the signs of previous piercings. HOLLANDER bats him away.]
HOLLANDER: No, uh— they were clip-ons, I was going to get them pierced but then hockey happened. I just— had some friends when I was a kid who were into skating. The outfits were also kinda like… good for sensory issues. Nothing was really too tight.
ROZANOV: Can you do a kickflip?
HOLLANDER: Yeah? I mean I could, I don’t know if I could anymore. I’ve bulked up a lot more since I was fourteen. I think I could though?
ROZANOV, with barely controlled lust: We need to buy you a skateboard.
[HOLLANDER smiles, signing the photo that HARRIS gave him.]
HOLLANDER: Wait, Harris. Can you sign this for me?
[The baffled and afraid look that comes across Harris Drover’s face is something to behold.]
[HOLLANDER reaches into a pocket and pulls out a nicely printed out photo of HARRIS.
[The photo is of HARRIS when he’s about twelve. HARRIS is awkwardly smiling into the camera, his hair is a questionable assortment of colours that can only come from a pre-teen who is clearly working through some sexuality things.]
[Younger HARRIS is wearing too much flannel even for a Canadian and is wearing some really badly applied eyeliner and is also for some reason wearing fingerless gloves.]
HOLLANDER, grinning: Could I get this signed?
[END OF VIDEO].