No, they do not make for great summer reading. No one will ever blurb the volume that contains them as "the perfect beach book."
But when all is said and done, here's betting that a whole bunch of folks will have buried their noses in the National Hockey League's constitution and bylaws by the time August is done. Because there, in the fine print, can be found the clues as to whether the Nashville Predators - or any of the others teams - are on their way to Hamilton.
What happened on Friday night, before and during the NHL draft, turns out to have been just so much posturing - but posturing that's easier to understand once you've read the rules.
First, there were breathless reports that the Preds' owner, Craig Leipold, had told Jim Balsillie to take a hike and had asked the league to stop considering him as a potential owner, in part, because of his desire to relocate the franchise.
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That didn't make much sense, especially since by triggering an out clause in his lease, Leipold suggested he was well aware the franchise was on the move.
By night's end, those same breathless reports were being amended, if not repudiated. If anything, Leipold was simply trying to turn up the pressure to get the deal closed. He is still, it seems, more than happy to take huge amounts of Balsillie's money.
And the larger truths remain unchanged.
The NHL is still stuck with a dead franchise in a disinterested market. Privately, people throughout the league have long acknowledged the inevitability of losing Nashville, in large part because the owners of "have" teams were sick of throwing shared revenue down a black hole.
Leipold, who had been a loyal soldier for commissioner Gary Bettman during the lockout, has surrendered. By triggering the out clause and then embarking on a fire sale of playing talent, he has certainly done more to "destabilize" the team (to use Bettman's term) than anything Balsillie or his retainers has said or done.
There are said to be efforts to cobble together a local ownership group in Nashville that would raise part of the purchase price and borrow the rest. Just imagine how well that might work with the salary cap going up, in a market where, under much better circumstances, the franchise couldn't come close to breaking even.
The other alleged alternative - would-be NHL owner William (Boots) Del Baggio - told a Nashville paper last week he had no interest in the Predators, that he was concentrating on securing an expansion franchise for Kansas City (because he'll have to split revenues there with the company that controls management rights to the new arena, he wouldn't have been able to match Balsillie's price in any case).
Meanwhile, Balsillie continues to go about the business of buying the team and moving it to the Copps Coliseum - assuming, of course, that after next season, the Predators are indeed free of their lease.
The league's propaganda engines have tried to undercut him by suggesting he's somehow unworthy of entry into their exclusive club, though his resources, his business history and the fact that he was unanimously approved as a potential owner of the Pittsburgh Penguins just a few months back would seem to put the lie to that.
All of which brings us right back to where we were before Friday's hiccup.
The Toronto Maple Leafs are understandably opposed to having another NHL team in their very wealthy, populous neighbourhood. Same goes for the Buffalo Sabres. Under a subsection of Article IV of the NHL constitution, their territorial rights are protected by what sure reads like a veto - which, according to another section, can only be amended by a unanimous vote of the governors.
Perhaps that's why the Leafs have been so quiet through all of this. They must be feeling rather secure.
But the league also has another bylaw absolutely prohibiting franchise relocation, period.
In order to protect itself under U.S. anti-trust law in the wake of Al Davis's lawsuits against the National Football League, that rule was amended - should it be deemed illegal, a simple majority vote by the governors could a give a team the right to move.
If the Predators were headed for, say, Kansas City, presumably that's what would take place.
But moving into the backyard of the Leafs and Sabres is another can of worms entirely, one that could put the legality of the territorial rights veto to the test.
Consider Gary Bettman's plight: At the end of the day, no matter what the outcome, one or more of his constituents are going to be mighty, mighty unhappy, and the lawyers are already sharpening their pencils.
Makes sense for him to chip away at Balsillie's character, to try to stall a deal by procedural means, to encourage him to walk away or, at very least, to prevent a vote, and a veto, at all costs.
A rock and a hard place, indeed.
