The office of New York Yankees majority partner Hank Steinbrenner, at Yankee Stadium. Everything is mahogany, including his coffee cup, the chandelier, and his stainless steel bar fridge. The only non-mahogany items in the room are Yankees memorabilia, including a Joe DiMaggio bat, a game-used Mickey Mantle flask, and the skull of Jack Chesbro, which is used to hold gumballs. Hank is at his desk, feet up, smoking a cigarette. There is a knock on the door.
Alex Rodringuex you asked to Alex Rodriguez You see me, Mr. Steinbrenner?
Hank Come in, Alex. Have a seat on the mahogany couch over there. Would you like a gumball?
A-Rod No thanks. They always taste a little earthy.
Hank Well, that skull was in the ground for an awful long time, Alex, before we had Howard Spira dig it up. [He stubs out his cigarette in a crystal ashtray filled with Veuve Clicquot champagne, then lights another one with what appears to be a bearer bond.] Look, I need to talk to you about this poker thing. Since Star Magazine reported you'd been seen at high-stakes poker parties with Hollywood stars where cocaine was used and fights broke out, we've been getting calls. ESPN.com says you're being investigated by Major League Baseball. You could get suspended.
A-Rod But I didn't do anything wrong, Mr. Steinbrenner.
Hank You mean, other than allegedly hanging out with highpowered gamblers in a poker ring so rich that Tobey Maguire is getting sued for winning US$311,000 that was taken in a ponzi scheme? Other than hanging out in a poker ring that included Hollywood celebrities, billionaires, drug-takers, and scumbags like Joe Francis, the Girls Gone Wild guy, and Rick Salomon, the Paris Hilton sex tape guy? I'd have to rinse off with bleach if I even shook hands with those scumbags.
A-Rod I dated Madonna, Mr. Steinbrenner.
Hank (shivers)
A-Rod Anyway, don't worry, Mr. Steinbrenner. My publicist already said there were some factual inaccuracies to that story. That should clear everything right up.
Hank What factual inaccuracies?
A-Rod Well, I can't tell you everything, but let's just say that Nick Cassavetes is known for more than just directing The Notebook. Between you and me, he directed other movies, too.
Hank (picks up phone) Get me an intern! Now! (Intern rushes in. Hank slaps intern's forehead in disbelief, then sends intern out.)
Hank I stopped slapping my own forehead after the story about how you had two centaur paintings hanging in your house over your bed with your face on the centaur. Concussions are no joke, Alex.
A-Rod (Squints a little, purses lips.)
Hank Look, here's the problem, Alex. We're the New York Yankees. We -
A-Rod (Interrupting) That's a problem? Maybe we should change our team name, then. How about we call ourselves the Centaurs?
Hank (picks up phone) Intern! (Intern rushes in, a little uncertain on his feet. Hank slaps the intern's forehead, and pushes him back toward the mahogany door.)
Intern It was never like this at Harvard.
Hank (throws ashtray as door closes, It shatters, spraying Veuve Clicquot everywhere)
Hank Alex, here's the thing. In 2007, we agreed to a contract extension with you for 10 years and $275-million. You were 32. You're 36 now, and the rest of your contract looks like this: $29-million, $28-million, $25million, $21-million, $20-million, $20-million. You'll be 42 when it's over, plus we added $30-million in home run mark bonuses, as if anybody cares about home run milestones anymore. We're the Yankees, and we're paying Derek Jeter $33-million the next two years, plus a player option. But you're starting to decline, Alex, and that's a lot of money.
A-Rod I know! It really helps when I'm playing high-stakes poker. Tobey Maguire's really good.
(Hank reaches for the phone, but there's a call. Hank puts it on speaker.) Secretary Mr. Steinbrenner, Bud Selig is on line one for you.
Hank Put him through. Hey, Bud! How much is the suit you're wearing worth? I bet you got it for less that $200. Am I right? C'mon, you can tell me.
Selig Hank, I need to talk to Alex. He may be in trouble.
Hank What, you mean he's not going to get a statue of himself wearing a $200 suit outside a ballpark in Milwaukee? I'm shaking. You're not talking to Frank McCourt here, Bud. Go expand the playoffs or something.
Selig Yes, sir. (Hank hangs up. He lights another cigarette with a custom-made miniature working Apollo rocket engine, mounted to his pen holder.)
Hank OK, Alex, here's the thing. You give me headaches. Like the on-field junk like trying to knock the ball out of Bronson Arroyo's glove at first base during a playoff game, or yelling "HA!" while running past as Howie Clark tried to catch a fly ball, or running across Dallas Braden's mound. Or the hookers thing, where you dated the madam who dealt with Eliot Spitzer, and the text messages went public.
A-Rod Boy, did I learn the difference between 'your' and 'you're' that day.
Hank Or the steroid admission, where you showed up with lips so pink they looked like sequined pillows, and skin so orange you looked like an Oompaloompa with cheekbones implants, and then claimed you took steroids once or twice to deal with the pressure of your big contract, but didn't take them when you became a Yankee and signed a bigger contract.
A-Rod Yeah, even I can't believe anybody bought that.
Derek Jeter (popping head in): Don't forget Cameron Diaz!
A-Rod Shut up, Jeter! You think you're so cool!
Jeter (cackles, slams door)
Hank (still talking) . getting fed popcorn by Cameron Diaz during the Super Bowl. For God's sake, she went on Letterman and she was asked about it and she said, "I went, 'You know what? I love you too much, I'm going to give it to you. You deserve it.' "
A-Rod Yeah, she's great. I don't even have to pay!
Jeter (ducking head back in) I wouldn't date her on a DARE! (slams door)
Hank And now this, playing poker with Brad Pitt and Matt Damon and Tobey Maguire and whatever other thrillseeking bozos are trying to find the adrenaline spike they lost a long time ago. What am I supposed to do with you?
A-Rod Mr. Steinbrenner, I like poker. I used to get all the way to the end and then fold when it counted, but that's not important now. It's like Tobey Maguire told me once: You owe me money. You're going to pay me my money. Everything else, at the end of the day; well, that's your problem. Not mine.