STUDIO 60 ON ROOSEVELT AVENUE
EPISODE 11
WRITTEN COMPLETELY BY AARON SORKIN TOTALLY ALONE AND UNDER GREAT DURESS
RELIVE THE EXCITING INAUGURAL SEASON!
PILOT | EPISODE 2 | EPISODE 3 | EPISODE 4 |
EPISODE 5 | EPISODE 6 | EPISODE 7 | EPISODE 8
EPISODE 9 | EPISODE 10

LOGLINE: Once the nation’s best and most respected baseball GM, Sandy Alderson has been reduced to trying to revive a moribund franchise in the depths of deepest, darkest Queens. Along with his sharp-witted and adoring protégés, he fights off the seemingly endless series of controversies and crises that beset him while trying to run a sports team in the country’s most bustling metropolis, and still look fantastic while doing it. Can the pressures of such an important job crush this singularly talented and gifted individual genius?

ACT I

SANDY ALDERSON enters the front office through a large set of glass doors and is immediately flanked by J.P. RICCIARDI, PAUL DEPODESTA, and MACKENZIE CARLIN, who trail him as he walks through the office

ALDERSON
So what’s the bad news, chums?

RICCIARDI
A Native American civil rights group believes our stadium was built on a Seminole burial ground.

ALDERSON
Inform them there were never Seminole tribes in this area but we have the utmost respect for their ancient and sacred beliefs nonetheless. Next?

DEPODESTA
Our new third baseman wants a patch on his uniform to commemorate Jerry Garcia.

ALDERSON
If he can sew it on himself, he’s welcome to. Next?

CARLIN
The city’s board of health has traced an outbreak of swine flu back to one of our concession stands.

ALDERSON
Then I guess we’re sending out for pizza today. Is that all? Sounds like an easy day, by my standards.

CARLIN
No, there is also a huge guy in a muscle tee in your office, demanding to speak with you.

ALDERSON
We didn’t lead with that, huh?

CARLIN
Always put your best stuff last.

ALDERSON enters his office and sees JOSE CANSECO sitting at his desk, feet up, frantically mashing a cable remote and flipping through channels on a large wall-mounted flat screen. An enormous, messy meatball sub sits on the desk. CANSECO is wearing very faded zubaz and a muscle tee that stops just above a protruding gut.

CANSECO
Do you guys get the pay porn channels here? I think this girl I knew in rehab is gonna be on one of ‘em in like five minutes.

ALDERSON
By all means, make yourself at home.

CANSECO
I already have.

ALDERSON
Yes, clearly. I was being…never mind. What do you want?

CANSECO
Don’t you wish they could make, like, a buffalo meatball? You got buffalo wings and buffalo chicken sandwiches but no buffalo meatballs? How come nobody’s done that yet? I would eat the hell out of a buffalo meatball sub. I’d eat the hell out of two of ‘em. Not even blink, man. I don’t care what I do.

ALDERSON
What do you want from me, Jose?

CANSECO
Remember when we talked in the parking lot the other day, Sandy?

ALDERSON
Yes, I recall you scaring me half to death, then ending our meeting with a vague threat.

CANSECO
C’mon, that’s all water over the bridge. I’m here because I can help you, Sandy.

ALDERSON
Yes, my office was dangerously low on marinara stains. I appreciate you helping out in that department.

CANSECO
No, in the playoff hunt! If you guys wanna make a run at the championship cup, you’re gonna need a bat like mine in your lineup.

ALDERSON
You do realize that at this point in the season, we can’t add any more players, because if we did, we’d have to expose someone on our 40-man roster to waivers, which…what am I saying, of course you don’t realize that.

CANSECO
Just gimme a tryout, Sandy. Let me prove there’s still some sugar left in this gas tank!

ALDERSON
Why do you even want to play baseball again? You look like you’ve been exercising to a John Belushi workout routine.

CANSECO
Because I miss it, Sandy. The crowds, the cheers, and yeah, even the boos. I miss the way I felt when I would walk out on a baseball field—alive, truly alive. I haven’t felt that way in years, and I want to feel it again, even if it’s just once before I die. And I also have at least three exes on my ass for child support payments. They repossessed my PS3, man!

ALDERSON
Fine. I’ll call up the coaches and scouts and get them to…

CANSECO
No, Sandy, I want you to give me a tryout. Throw me some BP. It’ll be just like old times!

ALDERSON
I never threw batting practice in Oakland.

CANSECO
I mean the old times the way they oughta be!

ALDERSON
[sighs] Fine, just give me a minute.

ALDERSON skirts around the desk and grabs the doorknob for his private bathroom.

CANSECO
I wouldn’t go in there. Someone clogged it up real good.

ALDERSON
Was that someone you?

CANSECO
I’m not sayin’ nothing. I ain’t no snitch!

ACT II

The locker room. CANSECO stops in front of a locker and drops a heavy equipment bag. He sits on a bench and begins to untie his shoes, when GRANT LINWOOD enters the room, looking perturbed.

LINWOOD
That’s my locker, bro.

CANSECO
Funny, don’t got your name on it.

LINWOOD
All of these lockers have my name on ‘em, written in ghost blood. They’re all mine, cuz this is my team.

CANSECO
So you must be Grant Linwood.

LINWOOD
In the flesh-bone. And if you think you’re gonna march in here and run this hamburger stand, you’re sadly mistaken.

CANSECO
I’m just here to pitch in, fella. The way I hear it, this lineup is in serious need of a hot tater injection. Sandy practically begged me to come bail you guys out.

LINWOOD
You might make this team, but I’m still in charge of making everyone’s jobs way harder than they need to be and saying stuff that makes no sense. There can only be one mayor of Crazy Town, and that’s me, pal.

CANSECO
What can I say but, let the best man rage.

CANSECO starts to unpack his equipment bag, unloading a series of small, heavy looking packages wrapped in butcher’s paper and twine.

LINWOOD
What’s that?

CANSECO
My special bacon, Taylor ham, and fried egg subs. Gotta get my protein.

LINWOOD
*pfft* You don’t use Muscle Milk?

CANSECO
These subs are part of a fitness regimen that includes Mucle Milk, plus 72 ounces of whey protein a day, and this new stuff called Formula 78. Makes your blood absorb oxygen at twice the normal rate. I heard when the East Germans gave their swimmers this stuff, their muscle mass got so dense they displaced all the water in the pool.

LINWOOD
Can I try some?

CANSECO
Knock yourself out.

CANSECO pulls a large, all-black water bottle from his bag and hands it to LINWOOD, who takes a sip and looks immediately disgusted.

LINWOOD
Good god, it tastes like Nyquil mixed with Magic Sand…It’s glorious!

CANSECO
Learn from the master, young’un.

LINWOOD
I can feel power surging to every sinew in my body…I have become one with all the power in the universe! This is amazing! Is there anything the Germans can’t do?

CANSECO
I know a guy who can get you some killer stuff from Albania if you’re interested. The World Anti-Doping Association called it “an affront to god,” so you know it’s good.

LINWOOD
Yeah, sure. But right now I gotta find some kinda steak to chew on.

Cut to: ALDERSON’s office. He’s loosening up his right arm the way a reliever does, circling it and stretching it across his chest with his left arm. CARLIN looks on, concerned.

CARLIN
You’re really going to toss batting practice to Canseco?

ALDERSON
A small price to pay to get him out of our hair.

CARLIN
You seem oddly accommodating to this washed-up mess.

ALDERSON
I always think of guys who used to play for me as my kids. Maybe it’s because I never had any of my own, maybe it’s just a delusion, I don’t know. But where everyone else sees a washed-up mess, I still see one of the best prospects who ever went through any of my farm systems. In a way, I feel almost responsible for him. In an abstract, non-prosecutable way, of course.

CARLIN
You’re way too nice, Sandy.

ALDERSON
I’m not nice, I’m guilty. It’s the exact opposite of nice. Well, wish me luck.

ALDERSON leaves his office. CARLIN stares after him for a moment, then quickly but quietly closes the door behind him and begins snooping around the premises.

Cut to: The ballfield. CANSECO stands in at home plate, swinging a bat. He wears a pair of neon green batting gloves, a jersey cut off at stomach length, and upsettingly short shorts. ALDERSON stands on the mound behind a protective screen. RICCIARDI and DEPODESTA observe from near the on-deck circle.

CANSECO
C’mon Sandy, gimme some of that high cheese.

ALDERSON
Alright, Jose. Just take it easy on me. My feelings are 63 years old, too.

ALDERSON throws a slow, straight ball right over the plate. CANSECO swings at it wildly, almost corkscrewing himself into the ground.

CANSECO
No, high cheese!

ALDERSON
What does that mean, exactly?

CANSECO
[dropping to one knee, breathing heavily] Hold on, let me just catch my breath.

ALDERSON
Okay, whenever you’re ready.

CANSECO holds out a hand, as if to say “wait,” and maintains that position for a full minute. ALDERSON folds his arms and taps his foot impatiently. RICCIARDI checks his watch.

RICCIARDI
Think we’ve got time to grab lunch before the next swing?

CANSECO continues to wheeze as the scene fades out.

ACT III

Fade in: The ballfield. CANSECO is just now getting up on both feet.

CANSECO
Whoah, I feel a little light headed. Probably shouldn’t have had that espresso and Mountain Dew and 12 Red Bulls.

ALDERSON
Tell you what, Jose. We can take BP later. Maybe you should start off slower and shag some flyballs.

CANSECO
No can do, my man. This longball machine only operates on the DH setting.

ALDERSON
We’re a National League team, Jose. We don’t have the designated hitter.

CANSECO
I don’t even know what those words mean.

ALDERSON
They mean that if you play for us, you have to play the field.

CANSECO
Oh, I’ll play the field alright. They didn’t call me the Bash Brother for nothing.

ALDERSON
You used to be an outfielder.

CANSECO
I used to be able to poop without sweating, but that ain’t happening no more, either.

RICCIARDI nudges DEPODESTA.

RICCIARDI
Where’s Carlin? How did she get out of witnessing this debacle?

DEPODESTA
No idea. Let me check Outlook. [pulls phone out of pocket] Weird, she’s got a whole hour blocked off for “snoopin’”.

RICCIARDI
I gotta ask for time off for snoopin’ in my next contract.

Cut to: ALDERSON’s office. CARLIN is carefully rooting through drawers and looking under couch cushions while talking on the phone to DAVID EINHORN.

EINHORN [ON PHONE]
Did you check under the ceiling tiles? That’s where I keep my most horrible stuff.

CARLIN
I don’t have a ladder, David, and I feel bad enough about doing this as this is. I’m going to make one pass over the room and that’s it.

EINHORN [ON PHONE]
If you feel so bad about snooping in Sandy’s office, why are you doing it?

CARLIN
Because I’m a horrible person, okay? Are you happy?

EINHORN [ON PHONE]
Check his private bathroom. And see if you grab me some Q-Tips while you’re in there.

CARLIN opens the door to the bathroom but stops short.

CARLIN
Oh dear god…I think Canseco’s been in here.

EINHORN [ON PHONE]
For god’s sake, get out of there, woman! And whatever you do, don’t open your eyes!

Cut to: The ballfield. CANSECO is now standing on the mound, while ALDERSON stands at the plate.

ALDERSON
Jose, I really don’t think this is a good idea.

CANSECO
Don’t you worry, I’ve got pinpoint control.

ALDERSON
It’s not me I’m worried about.

CANSECO
Look, the only way I’m gonna play the field is if I’m on the mound hurling my patented fireballs and sending hitters back to the pine. I’ve pitched before you know.

ALDERSON
Yes, and do you remember what happened when you did?

CANSECO
As far as I know, I was the greatest pitcher ever. Alright Sandy, prepare to be blown away.

CANSECO goes into his windup.

Cut to: A hospital bed. CANSECO is laying down, moaning in pain. A DOCTOR with a clipboard stands on one side of the bed, ALDERSON on the other.

DOCTOR
According to your MRI, you managed to damage every single ligament in your body by throwing one pitch. I’ve never seen anything like it.

CANSECO
That’s right, Doc, I even injure epic. Ow…

DOCTOR
I’d try to not talk too much; your jaw is in bad shape, too. Same goes for pretty much every joint in your body. I’d recommend getting plenty of rest and increasing your calcium intake immediately. You should also cut back on the processed meats; your blood tested for very high levels of Taylor ham. Well, I’ll leave you two alone to confront each other.

DOCTOR leaves.

ALDERSON
You doing okay, Jose?

CANSECO
Never better. You know, pain is just weakness destroying the body.

ALDERSON
Jose, I’m sure you already know you didn’t make the team…

CANSECO
No, I think I did.

ALDERSON
Actually, you didn’t. You swung at one pitch and missed, refused to field fly balls, and crumpled in a mangled heap when you tried to throw.

CANSECO
Well guess what? I think you’re gonna sign me anyway for $5 million, or there are gonna be some nasty stories in the paper in a few days.

ALDERSON
Really? About what?

CANSECO
About certain information concerning a certain general manager of a certain ballclub, that will certainly make his name certain mud if it were to ever come out.

ALDERSON
Is that so? Well, if a certain former player is in possession of certain information, he should certainly know that this certain GM is capable of anything.

CANSECO
I certainly…can’t quite remember what we were talking about.

ALDERSON
You want to wage war on me, Jose? Go right ahead. I’ve been through war, real war. I’ve faced worse than you and come out without a scratch. Whatever kind of hell you can unleash on me, I’ve seen it. Whatever weapons you’ve got, I’ve dodged them. So go ahead and do your worst, because it’s sure to seem like a picnic compared to what I’ve I’ve been through before

ALDERSON stomps out of the room.

CANSECO
[yelling after him] You’ve signed your own death warrant, Sandy Alderson! You hear me?! When I’m through with you, you’ll beg me to kill you! Also, can you send that bag of subs back to my place? Just send it care of the Comfort Inn by the airport, they all know me down there.

CODA

CARLIN’s apartment, late at night. The lights are off, but the TV flickers back in her face. In one hand, she holds a phone to her ear. The other holds a framed portrait in her lap we can not see.

EINHORN [ON PHONE]
So what’s the verdict? Did you find anything juicy? Anything at all?

Pan down to show the portrait in her lap. The picture is black and white and shows two men–one young, one middle aged–in army fatigues and helmets in a jungle, holding up a small boy. Silver marker on bottom of pic reads ME, DAD, AND BILLY – DA NANG, 73.

CARLIN
Nothing at all.

FIN