The top floor of the Toronto Maple Leaf Tower holds the presidents private sanctuary. Brendan Shanahan’s home away from home on those nights when work forces him to stay away from Catherine and the kids. Much to his dismay Brendan is here more and more lately, as he sinks deeper into the mess that is Toronto Hockey.

The day starts at 6am for the president. Without turning on a light or opening a blind he completes an intense and intricate Yoga and Tai Qi routine in the dark, keeping his perfect physique in prime condition.

Naked and sweaty, Brendan leaves his room, entering the days light for the first time. Waiting outside the door, three beautiful naked women hold his coffee, newspaper, and silk robe respectively. The newspaper is always opened to the comics. Brendan likes the funnies. He walks to a lush array of cushions beside a koi pond where he laughs while sipping his coffee, breathing deeply to take in the serenity of the moment. He prepares for another day managing the greatest franchise in all sport. Then his phone rings.

Today the first caller is a surprise, given the hour, Brendan answers. “Jeff, how are you.” It is the O-Dog Jeff O’Neil.

“I’m amazing Brendo, I found a mini-putt out by Ajax that has the best chili fries you ever tasted in your life. You gotta get out here man.”

“I would love to but,”

“But nothing. This place is open 24 hours. I’ve been here for 3 days. The course is really challenging, but not so hard as to spoil the fun you know.”

“It’s mini-putt”

“I know right. And the chili fries, man! I’m freaking out here Brendo. I may never leave.”

Brendans phone starts to buzz as his usual first call of the day arrives. “I gotta run O. Call Noodles for me buddy. He can help you.” Brendan switches calls before Jeff can reply. “Good morning Mike, how are ya?”

“Hey Brendan. I am having a great time as you know. Came up with a seven hundred and thirty-fourth possible ice time breakdown for each skater for the first period in the preseason. Probably gonna work shop a few more. Lots to do, lots to do. I was calling, you know, hoping we could say it together, just you and me. To get’er rolling, you know.”

“Sure thing Mike” Brendan holds his hands together and knows that Mike Babcock is doing the same. After a moment of silence they speak in unison as if the words were a spell. And maybe words do hold the power to create.

“Dear God and Lord Stanley, Thank you for bringing us together here in Toronto, and please help Steven Stamkos find his way home.”

“Thanks, gotta go.” Says the coach, hanging up.

Brendan finishes his coffee and comics in peace. Invigorated by the caffeine the president heads to the shower. Two more beautiful naked women are waiting for him. One holds a loufa sponge, the other a bottle of Mane ‘n’ Tail. The shower is running, and steam is filling the room.

Brendan always has his showers at 119 degrees farenheit for three minutes. The scrub he employs is a hard fast one. Pink with a fresh layer of skin, he steps out of the shower and receives his towel from one of the beautiful naked women. The other holds his under clothes waiting for the president to be dry. Two more beautiful naked women have selected the days outfit and await Brendan in his palatial closet. They help him with his daily grooming as he gets dressed. Every detail of the presidents image must be immaculate.

Brendans phone has been placed at a table for one, in front of a floor to ceiling window. Looking out over Leafs Nation as the sun rises Brendan meditates on the path he walks before he sits down. A beautiful naked woman serves him his usual breakfast, three eggs and a pound of tofu bacon fried in coconut oil. The same beautiful naked woman returns in a moment with a fresh mug of coffee.

His phone starts to ring, Brendan checks the caller ID and returns to his breakfast. It takes seven and a half minutes for Brendan to finish. The same caller tries back three more times and Brendan lets it ring to voice mail each time, knowing the sting this causes the ego on the other end. The hook to C.R.E.A.M. by Wu-Tang Clan never gets old which is why it is the standard ringtone on Brendans phone. As he eats, the president is reminded that cash rules everything around most. ‘Dolla’ dolla’ bills y’all.’

The fourth time his phone rings Brendan takes a sip of coffee before he answers.

“Good morning Patrick.”

“Call me Le Roy Shanny.” The hall of fame goalies french accent is really thick today. This tells Brendan a lot.

“What time is it in Colorado?”

“Time. I not know. I am a party with some bikers. Time is good. Listen Shanny, I am call for Joe okay.”

“Joe can call me himself.”

“But he asked for me to call you because he wants to trade. Trade with you.”

“I’m sorry Patrick”

“Le Roy”

“Like I told Joe before, all trades go through my GM.”

“Come on Shanny, Lou is an asshole. You know this. Does Stevie Whyzeeman need to deal with Lou? I bet no. Come on we are all in the Hall buddy. Don’t make us deal to that prick. I know you hire him for this. I respect moves. Come on.”

“All trades go through my GM Patrick.”

“Le Roy.”

“No exceptions, not even for old friends.”

“This is the bullshit Shanny.”

“I’m sorry Patrick.”

“Le Roy.”

“Tell Joe to call Lou. I gotta go.”

“Fuck you.”

Brendan actually gets to finish his coffee in peace, but the clock seems eager to get to quarter to eight. As he stands to leave a beautiful naked woman approaches with his briefcase. She speaks softly, doing her best to make eye contact with the elusive president..

“We are having another orgy on Saturday. Can you and the missus come by?”

“I don’t know.” Brendan is noncommittal knowing how fast his plans can change.

“Please. It’s never as much fun with just us girls.”

Brendan considers her frown for a moment. “Talk to Catherine okay.”

“Oh goody.” There is a spring in the beautiful naked womans step as she turns away.

Brendan does not notice as he steps into his private elevator. The ride is quick since the offices of the President and the GM are only one floor below. The first thing Brendan sees when he walks into Lou Lamoriello’s office is the clock that keeps the time since the Leafs last Stanley Cup win. It strengthens his resolve with every second it counts.

“Your fuckin late.” The silky voice of his surly GM brings Brendan back into the moment. Mark Hunter and Kyle Dubas have made it to the office before Brendan. “Who the fuck shows up late on a fuckin Lous’day.”