Okay, so where am I?

It was time to go north of the border to help out with some family things, but also to continue to doing research and interviews for my Kontinental Hockey League book. This time my travels took me once again to Montreal, Canada.

Maybe you don’t know Montreal. Maybe you think it’s that crazy city in that crazy provence that wanted to cede from Canada. Maybe you don’t care at all. I do, because Montreal is the Mecca of all hockey. The home of the greatest concentration of championships in the National Hockey League. Anywhere there’s hockey finds me an invites me metaphorically to explore the city and take in a game. But there’s more to Montreal than just hockey.

Montreal is a city with considerable French colonial history dating back to the 16th century. It began as a missionary settlement but soon became a fur-trading center. The city’s St. Lawrence River location proved to be a major advantage in its development as a manufacturing, financial, and transportation center. Montreal was the largest metropolitan center in the country from 1867, at the time of the Confederation of Canada until Toronto overtook it in the 1970s. It stands as the second largest French-speaking city in the world (after Paris).

The city has been a immigrant destination and is widely considered to be a cosmopolitan celebration of Québécois style. Montreal remains a city of great charm, vivacity, and gaiety, as well as one of unquestioned modernity. In short, Montreal is c’est si bon.

Fans enter the Bell Centre for the Montreal Canadiens game.

Bonsecours Market in Old Montreal.

The iconic hearts sculpture outside the Musee des Beaux Arts.

Rinkside at the Montreal vs. Carolina NHL game.

Love is in the air.

The Monument à George-Étienna Cartier

Outside of Parts, Montreal has the world’s finest French food.

Unique single-wind walk up stairs line the city.

The Basilique Notre-Dame is a confection of stained glass.

The post The 43 Postcards Project: Montreal appeared first on Media Guy Struggles.

Okay, so where am I?

My quest to build content for my Kontinental Hockey League book intensifies, this time in Saint Petersburg, Russia.

Maybe you don’t know Saint Petersburg. Maybe you think it’s a city in Florida. Maybe you don’t care. I do because the once capital city of Russia rapidly became one of my favorite cities on the world. I’ll devote a full column this month to the wonders it holds but in the meantime, a fast overview of its history. The city is not named for Tsar Peter the Great, aka Peter the I, but Saint Peter, one of the 12 apostles of Jesus Christ. Still, Peter the Tsar, who ruled Russia from 1682 until his death in 1725, is the city’s true father. Blessed with being nearly seven feet tall and also being very good at winning wars, Russia became a European powerhouse under his reign. After his victory against the Swedish Empire in the Great Northern War opened up the Baltic region, he founded Saint Petersburg in 1703 as a new, modern, westward-looking capital of the Russian Empire, a frontier town designed in the image of European cities, to integrate Russia into Europe. It is also the home city of President Vladimir Putin, who worked first for the Leningrad branch of the KGB and later in the mayor’s office, but Peter will always be number one here.

Before I get to the meat of this column (the visuals), I want to give a special hats off to Firebird Tours as they delivered opportunity after opportunity to get up close with Saint Petersburg and the people of Russia. Seems to me that I can no more book a trip without them as I can travel without my trusty camera to capture life, personalities, and cityscapes we seldom knew existed. Take a peek at my 16 favorites from a handful of days in the city that was the imperial capital for two centuries.

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Okay, so where am I?

I’m in Finland. Part vacation, part business trip. I am here to see the sights and to work on my Kontinental Hockey League book. Interviewing former players, executives, and broadcasters is much easier when you have the beauty of Scandinavia as a backdrop.

I breezed through this country in record time it seems and, well, Finland. It’s been a blast. Who knew this little Nordic country of 5.2 million could deliver so many micro-memories through the characters and souls I met in seven short days (and by short, I mean really short with less than five hours of sunlight each winter day). Take a reflective journey with me through a curated gallery of 11 captures that rest in my lens (and now in this blog).

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Okay, so where am I?

I am doing a little happy dance because I’ve been GREENLIT!

Yes indeed, my little pitch about writing a book on the wacky, wild, and sometimes great Kontinental Hockey League has been accepted for a 2021 publish date by Penguin Random House Canada.

I mean, who would have thought that a 2018 side trip to CKSA Ice Arena in Moscow and a chance meeting with Igor would have produced a 2021-word article in my regular Jewels From The Crown (an LA Kings blog) spot and led to one of its most read columns in recent years. That success gave me the courage to pitch my book and low and behold, my author’s acceptance arrived nearly a year later.

Now the hard work begins, finishing the actual book. Mark Twain famously said, “Writing is easy. All you have to do is cross out the wrong words.” A comic he was…

The difficult part of writing a book isn’t getting published, it’s the actual writing and the self analysis that comes with it. As an author of multiple books, I can tell you without hesitation that the hardest part of a writer’s job is hunkering down to do the work. Books don’t just write themselves, you know. Sweat equity is the key. You must invest your entire being into creating your important piece of work.

For years, I dreamed of being a writer. Mostly for television and then for newspapers. I knew in my soul I had vital things to say that the world wanted to hear. But as I look back on what it actually takes to become an author, I realize that the process doesn’t always mesh with expectations.

To start with, you don’t just sit down to write a book like Paul Sheldon does in a cabin in Misery. That’s not how writing works. It begins with writing a sentence, then a paragraph, then maybe if you’re in a groove, an entire chapter. Writing happens in fits and starts, in bits and pieces. It’s a process. It’s the art of sculpting fog.

The way you get the work done is not complicated. You take one step at a time, then another and another. As I look back on the books I’ve written, I can see how the way they were made was not as glamorous as I once thought.

I did discover that writing in the same place every time spurred great words, incredible sentences, and better paragraphs. It doesn’t matter if it’s your patio or a a sauna or the backseat of your car, it really just needs to be a different space from where you do your other activities. Make your writing spot a special space, so that when you enter it, you’re ready to find that inner inspiration. It should reaffirm you of your commitment to finish.

Another important thing to keep in mind is the total word count. You should already see the light at the end of the tunnel. Here is a quick guide to what word ranges mean in terms of what you will get at the end of your writing:

• 10,000 words = a pamphlet or business white paper. Read time = 30-60 minutes.
• 20,000 words = short eBook or manifesto. The Communist Manifesto is an example of this, at about 18,000 words. Read time = 1-2 hours.
• 40,000-60,000 words = standard nonfiction book / novella. The Great Gatsby is an example of this. Read time = three to four hours.
• 60,000-80,000 words = long nonfiction book / standard-length novel. Most Malcolm Gladwell books fit in this range. Read time = four to six hours.
• 80,000-100,000 words = very long nonfiction book / long novel. The Four-Hour Work Week falls in this range.
• 100,000+ words = epic-length novel / academic book / biography. Read time = six to eight hours. The Steve Jobs biography would fit this category.

In the end, the hardest part is really getting the book deal but the real work is turning a 2000-word column into a 100,000 word novel. Wish me luck

The post GREENLIT! A New Media Guy Book appeared first on Media Guy Struggles.

It’s been a good year for the Media Guy Struggles. As the leading lifestyle media brand for those curious about the life of a modern (M)ad Man, the website is growing faster in unexpected ways. August marked the best month of all time for readership, advertising, and elevated Q ratings. To celebrate, I took to the road looking for the best food, drink, travel, and places to stay in the world.  The result is the Month of Travel where I tell tales and wax poetic about only the very best in the world. I’ll take you to Russia, Mexico, Lebanon, and Canada. At the end, I hope it inspires you to weave your own story through the fabric of travel. Today, I take you to Montreal and how one of the best hotels in downtown made all of my 4:30 a.m. paranoias go away. 

Okay, so where am I?

I’m in beautiful Montreal at the luxe Sofitel Golden Mile. I’m working on my hockey book and in town to interview some former Kontinental Hockey League characters and tour one of the Meccas of Hockey: Bell Centre, home of the Montreal Canadiens.

The only problem is that the player I am interviewing insisted to meet at six in the morning which left me with an ungodly pickup time to arrive in time. So I get up at 4:30 a.m., which quite honestly is one of the most ridiculous time on the clock ever conceived. I mean its it night? Is it day? What the heck is 4:30 a.m., anyway? I don’t really care who you are, whether you have to wake up at 4:30 or you have been awake until 4:30, it it utterly ridiculous. Of course if you’ve been up all night and it’s 4:30, you have other problems that I mustn’t get into here. If you’re that close to sunrise and you haven’t slept in 22 hours, that’s another whole level of “I need to make better life choices.” Yet I digress…

So there I am at 4:30 a.m., barely away and I realize that I forgot my toothbrush and toothpaste. One part of my inner dialogue is censuring myself with, “You fool, you travel one hundred days out of the year, how could you forget about your oral health? How are you going to go another fifty years without a cavity like you did the first fifty would a toothbrush?”

Then a second inner dialogue kicks in and says, “hey take it easy on yourself, things happen!” Then the two inner dialogues go at for a while like two Japanese betas in the same bowl until finally my post-caffeinated logic kicks in and I realize that I am in a fancy French-Canadian hotel and I probably can call the front desk and ask them to send up one of those oral hygiene kits. But then I remember that the last time I did this in Melbourne what I received was like a half a toothbrush. You know, one of those plastic sticks with forty bristles that don’t do anything but splash water around and frustrate you. But just as that scenario plays out I remember again that I’m at the Sofitel Golden Mile and with a name like that, they have to have good toothbrushes.

So, like the brave person I am at 4:35a, pre-dawn with not a soul visible from my wonderful city view, I decide to call down for my toothbrush request. Wouldn’t you know it, no one answers the phone. That continuous ringing—something that you never heard past the mid 1980s when everyone had at least an answering machine—is not only a lonely feeling, but also sets up a paranoia mindset of epic proportions. Why? Because there’s always someone that answers at posh French-Canadian hotels. That’s why you stay there, for the service! So on the seventh ring or so, the first thought was; “VAMPIRES.” It wasn’t even a delusion, it was a real cognitive thought and I know my thoughts were real.

That initial real thought was followed by my 4:37 a.m. analysis… “How many more are there like me? Do I need to stockpile garlic? What time does the sun come up? Are they wearing special rings to make it so they can still go our in the sunlight? Is the Vampire Diaries” streaming on the CW website to get one of those witch’s spells to ward them off? Can I fashion a wooden stake from the desk in my suite? Did I pack a turtleneck?” …and on and on it went until I took a deep breath, one of the deepest in my life and came to the serious revelation that no (!) I could not summon my inner Lawrence of Arabia and push back the Great Vampire Revolution of 2019.

Just then the front desk picked and that the very pleasant voice on the other end apologized for letting the phone ring six times—yes, my 4:37 a.m. mind was losing it after only six rings—and I promptly overreacted and shrieked, “What in the holy hell is going on down there? Why didn’t you answer? I was going insane up here because we are in a world of trouble!”

She asked what the problems was, and still in full paranoia tilt, I screamed, “I need a freaking toothbrush, because of vampires!!!!” It was then I was horrified that I actually said that to an actual person and needed to make her understand what I had experienced in that six ring marathon of a call and said, “Sorry I need to interview a goalie in 82 minutes” like that would be a totally rationale explanation of why I would fear vampires before daybreak. I’m sure she hung up and said to her colleagues that there’s some dud on the seventh floor who is having a bad trip. Anyway, the toothbrush arrived in five minutes and what a toothbrush it was! Bountiful with full medium hard bristles with a healthy and generous tube of Colgate toothpaste.

All this brings me to why I’ll always return to the Sofitel located in Montreal’s Golden Mile (if they will have me, that is). It has 258 rooms and suites and stands proud on posh Sherbrooke Street just a few blocks from Mont Royal Park. McGill University is next door and the Bell Centre is less than a mile away. If you want artsy sophistication, the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts is there as well. I loved my luxury suite with its Impressionist-style paintings and black-and-white framed photographs with plush goose-feather bedding and the best beds in the world. The floor-to-ceiling windows will lure you to the hustle of the city and a perfect spot to brainstorm those big ideas. Le Renoir, the upscale restaurant serves seasonal French cuisine with locally sourced ingredients. The concierge and bell staff is amongst the most pleasant I have ever had the pleasure to know and they are more than happy to help arrange a ride (that’s never late), theatre tickets, or even a behind-the-scenes tour of Bell Centre, including VIP access to the Canadiens dressing rooms.

The location at the Golden Square Mile, which remains the champion of Montreal’s glitz and glamour scene since the 19th century. Today, this very area is the flashpoint of the excitement of downtown, blending celebrated magic with cultural gems and tourist destinations.

Artsy and sophisticated rooms with floor-to-ceiling windows.

Marbled, spacious bathrooms.

Incredible front office staff.

Sublime Cuisine.

The Maurice Richard statue at Bell Center.

Me and Howie Morenz at the Bell Centre.

The Montreal Museum of Fine Arts

The post Month of Travel: Vampires in Montreal appeared first on Media Guy Struggles.

Repping the great Ilya Kolvachuk at a KHL game will earn you mad props. © Michael Lloyd

I took a wild trip to Moscow to get up close with Russian hockey. I wound up meeting Igor…read on!

While we wait for the boys to return from the combination All-Star break and mandatory five-day bye week to continue their #PlayoffPush / #LoseForHughes games, here’s a little excerpt from my KHL Moscow trip.

By now, most of the loyal Perspectives readers know a few things about me.

1. I don’t like the interim Kings coach (professionally, not personally).
2. I’m not a sportswriter (…okay let the jokes begin…at least I’m passionate about giving you 1,000 words of weekly contrarian opinion).
3. I made my living for the last 30+ years in the marketing and advertising worlds.

So why the buildup today? I felt it was important to let you know these things before briefly jumping into my intrepid journey in Russia covering the Kontinental Hockey League for an upcoming book I’m writing about sports marketing in Europe.

When the call came in October to travel to Moscow for a few days in and around Red Square to visit the periphery of the current CSKA Moscow team, I was a little hesitant. “Why” you ask?

Well…

Back in the nineties, Romania called. Literally, the country called. The economic development minister guided me over to CSP UM Timişoara, an also-ran in the Romanian Futbol League. I was signed to a nice six-figure contract to lay out the marketing plan and roll it out to the country. Long story short, after selling out the first (and last) game due in large part to my advertising campaign, the Romanian mafia who financed the club asked me to leave “Godfather-style” and promptly bankrupted the team.

At the time, the appeal of Europe for media and marketing was growing by leaps and bounds and it definitely makes sense. If you know your stuff and you can deliver smooth ideas and polished programs, you’re all set for a cushy life. It worked out for some. For me, that was my only attempt to “make it” in Europe.

So when my book editor arranged for a flight and a visa to Moscow, who was I to say no? I mean, who could refuse such an assignment? After all, this club was the home of all of those legendary Red Army players who dominated the world scene before the collapse of the Soviet Union: Slava Fetisov, Pavel Bure, Alexei Kasatonov, the KLM Line (Vladimir Krutov, Igor Larionov, and Sergei Makarov), Sergei Federov, Boris Mikhailov, Vladislav Tretiak…I could go on and on. They all played there.

Over the years, the KHL has earned a reputation as a wild and crazy place replete with heat-packing team owners, paper bag cash payments for players and staff, intense eight-week training camps, and a penchant for creating scandal you might expect only from a Netflix movie. This notwithstanding, since being founded in 2008 under the tutelage of Russian President Vladimir Putin, the KHL has solidified itself as the world’s second-best hockey league.

So, after securing a commitment to gain entry into Russia and very little else, I hunkered down into research mode. My research uncovered 25 teams spread across eight countries and two continents. I discovered a league that possesses a trove of talent most North Americans have never heard of and never will see. My goal quickly began to gain some sort of access to left winger Kirill Kaprizov and goalie Ilya Sorokin. In case you missed it, Kaprizov dominated at the 2018 PyeongChang Olympics, notching nine points (5G, 4A) in six games played, while being the darling of KHL hockey. Sorokin was drafted by the Islanders as an 18-year-old. Through 34 games backstopping CSKA Moscow, he sports a 23-6-3 record with a 1.25 GAA and a .937 save percentage to go with eight shutouts.

I jumped on the international Stubhub site to grab a pair of CSKA Moscow tickets for the December 28th game versus defending Gagarin Cup* champs Ak Bars. I quickly charged the $78 for the tickets in first seven rows, including fees, and even though Citibank put a fraud alert on my card for 48 hours because of the Russia charges, I was feeling pretty, pretty good.

* – Speaking of the Gagarin Cup, much like the Stanley Cup we all love and revere, the KHL has its own sweet story for their championship trophy. The KHL hardware is named for cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin. He’s the first human to venture into space and was proclaimed as the “hero of the Soviet Union” by Nikita Khrushchev. Gagarin died in a plane crash nearly eight years after his space odyssey. He is entombed at the Kremlin.

I arrived to Moscow on Christmas Day (I know, I know; how Rocky IV of me) and after a VIP tour of the Kremlin, Red Square, and St. Basil’s Cathedral, along with a trip to Saint Petersburg, it was finally game day. Nothing could slow my enthusiasm. Not the snow or three-degree temperatures or even a snobby cab driver who lectured me about the “corrupt league where the banned doctors practice.” Misjudging the right time to get there, I was at the CSKA Ice Arena well ahead of the 7:30 match time, beating even the most of the security staff.

CKSA Ice Arena

Just to the west of the parking booth and gate was the one open door: the media entrance. There were cameramen and suited talking heads meandering through, so I decided to put my international press card into play. It came in handy here as I flashed it liberally to get through to the hallway leading to the locker rooms. This is where my plans to interview Kirill Kaprizov and/or Ilya Sorokin hit a brick wall. No, not a real brick wall, but rather Igor.

Who was Igor? He was simply a human that was thicker and stronger than any brick wall. Each bicep had a circumference that was easily more than my skull and his hands looked like could they crush my skull just like The Mountain did to the Viper in Game of Thrones. Nonetheless, I didn’t memorize five questions in Russian for my interview to be turned away by Igor.

At first, Igor laughed at me and scoffed at my international press card that dated my current salt and pepper style by at least ten years. Then he had me frisked by his colleague, who was easily the most terrifying man whomever guarded a hockey arena.

As soon as I tried to out-clever the duo, the conversation kicked in.

“Listen Mr. Michael,” he growled, “I don’t care how far you travel to meet our great players. No CSKA (pronounced “siska”) Moscow media card. No blonde hair. No cute smile. No enter my arena. Only Cowboy Reagan has chance to get here.”

To which I replied, “Reagan has been dead for years. Are you saying a dead man has a better chance than me to get in?”

That produced three giant belly laughs that lasted well over a minute. I earned some goodwill and bought myself some time but alas, no locker room entry and interviews were forthcoming. Seems that Igor was (purportedly) former KGB and didn’t catch on with the FSB (which succeeded the KGB). He knocked around the nightclub scene and even called in some favors to work security detail for some high-ranking dancers at the Bolshoi before landing on the hockey scene. Now he calls the KHL home and takes his work more seriously than anything he ever did at the KGB.

What I did win was a new friend in Igor and some ridiculous stories of the early KHL and Russia Superleague days.

During the 2004-05 NHL lockout, Ak Bars put together a squad that included 11 NHL players; among them were Ilya Kovalchuk, Dany Heatley, Alexei Kovalev, Vincent Lecavalier, and Brad Richards. “Here we try win championship for mighty Kazan’s 1000th anniversary,” Igor recalls. “We have giant payroll. But you know what they don’t have? There were no towels, locker room attendants, or drinks after games. Maybe that’s why lost in the first round of the playoffs.”

I learned about the practice of bazas. It’s a cultural thing where teams bunker down in desolate, rural buildings before important games and playoff series. Igor explained: “One club I was with put us in middle of nowhere. Mr. Michael, this is not a figure of speech. This baza is not on fancy Google Maps. As matter of fact, no map was ever created for this. It was an old, crumbling factory that have dormitories for workers. It was 35 kilometers from anything. Anything. Except forest. Forest was for training and there was tree for all of us. The coaching staff make everyone climb a tree before breakfast was served. Even staff.”

I dared to ask him why he’s been with so many clubs (this is his seventh in 15 years). “Many teams are very late in paying people,” Igor reports. “They would go months without paying us and then they would pay in plain box in cash. Of course there would be ‘taxes’ already taken from the cash. For players, this is fine because they don’t live payday to payday. But us ex-KGB guys need regular payments. You wonder if you ever get paid.”

As 7:30 approached, Igor reminded me that I wasn’t getting in. We had a good time trading NHL and KHL stories. We exchanged contact information and Twitter handles. He helped me bypass the giant staircase leading to the security entrances. I was safe after all having been patted down better than any TSA in the world. It was time to see what the KHL game was actually like.

Every aisle, in every section, has two cheerleaders with pom poms. During stoppages they all perform in sync with each other in perfect synergy.

I wound up sitting next to Anatoly who, as a former official at the United Nations, was a former season ticket holder of the New York Rangers. He was there in 1994 when the Rangers won their first Stanley Cup in 50 years and he was in Kazan in 2017 when Ak Bars won the Gagarin Cup. I was told that the principal dissimilarity between the NHL and KHL is the pressure of the season. At only 60 games, there are few nights, if any, where you can take the night off. Teams don’t have the luxury to give away wins (worth three points when earned in regulation). Ownership fires coaches left and right. “Everyone is George Steinbrenner here,” Anatoly brags.

The style of play grabs you from the start. The surface is Olympic-sized so the players can move around and you can feel the skill. There’s very little dump and chase. You can see the roots of Russian hockey on display at all times. The spirit of the legendary Anatoli Tarasov, “the father of Russian ice hockey”, lives. He taught his players what he learned observing the Bolshoi Ballet, transferred it to hockey, and gave rise to creativity so the improvisational could flourish.

Tonight, CSKA Moscow hardly let AK Bars touch the puck for two periods, outshooting them 30-8 and tripling their attack time. If they couldn’t carry the puck into the zone, they would regroup three, four, five times before entering the zone. Each pass was crisp, hitting the tape without error. It all about puck possession.

And the fan experience?

“It’s wildly entertaining,” says Anatoly. “The fans are fun to watch. Cheerleaders are fun to watch. The kids bring signs and hold them up through the game, all game. There’s booster clubs left and right with special cheers. People aren’t sitting on their hands, they’re really into it. Also CSKA has not one, but two mascots—a horse and a star.”

As the horn sounded to end the final period, CSKA Moscow cruised to a 4-2 win. Maybe I witnessed the future 2019 Gagarin Cup champion here tonight. And my would-be interview? I guess I was scooped:

Note: This column originally appeared on Jewels From the Crown, January 28, 2019

The post Behind the Curtain: A Peek at the KHL appeared first on Media Guy Struggles.

Okay, so where am I?

Happy New Year from the desk of the Media Guy Struggles!

I’m currently on assignment in the former Communist Bloc countries covering the Kontinential Hockey League. It will be a fun series of articles once I am done. For now, I have been all around Russia and in subsequent days I’ll take some vacation (?) in Bulgaria and Romania.

I’m a little nervous about Romania, considering the last time I was there I was “asked” to leave the country by the local mafia I wound up working for at the time. In case you missed my article back in 2011 (and I know most of you did), here’s a tip of the hat to the first time I was tossed from the arms of Bucharest. Could be a good book in this column. (Hint hint, Penguin Books USA!)

Yet, I digress…

I was asked today, of course, what my New Year’s Resolutions will be.

I went with the usual: a) workout more, b) be more patient, and c) drink less coffee. I also went with the unusual: Get people to stop asking others, “So, How’s Life?”

Small talk ain’t easy. Making an attempt at it takes perseverance and some courage. I mean you have to work with people so small talk is critical to your success and it’s not easy.

“So, How’s Life?” is comparable to asking children how their day was. Common replies include “same-same,” “the usual,” and of course, a rushed pirouette out of the room.

It makes sense. The infinite possibilities are brain busters, and the dialogue concludes before it could begin.

Just because everyone does it, doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a great idea. In fact, the contrary is probably true. If everyone does it, it probably stinks. As evidence, I present college loans, buying cars fresh off the assembly line, and cheating on your taxes.

Look, I fumbled the small talk routine all the time, too. It’s simple to autopilot this stuff. But if you give a little extra sweat equity, you’ll find that your relationships at work and at home will flourish.

THOUGHT-INDUCING QUESTIONS TO ASK NEXT TIME:

• What was the best part of your weekend?
• What was the worst part of your weekend?
• Would you rather have the ability to spot every lie, or never be lied to again?
• Brutal weather today, right?
• What movie should I watch next?
• Trump, huh?
• Why do you reheat fish in the microwave?
• How old were you when you lost your sense of smell?
• What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten?
• Do you even understand what I’m capable of?

Give it a whirl and let me know how it goes.

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