Category Archives: Baseball

Studio 60 on Roosevelt Avenue

Studio 60 on Roosevelt Avenue: Episode 8

STUDIO 60 ON ROOSEVELT AVENUE
EPISODE 8
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

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

The front office, late at night, a manic scene. Assistants scurrying left and right from one end of the office to the other, clutching papers, yelling on cell phones, scribbling on dry erase boards. Caption: 48 HOURS TO DEADLINE. The camera pans through this chaotic scene, circling around random figures, for at least five minutes before proceeding into SANDY ALDERSON’s office. His assistants J.P. RICCIARDI and PAUL DEPODESTA are sitting on a large couch, each huddled over laptops with cell phones clenched in their shoulders. MACKENZIE CARLIN stalks the room, moving index cards around on a cork board and reviewing printouts. ALDERSON stands in the middle of them all, fielding every query calmly but firmly. The only person who looks nervous is DAVID EINHORN, who sits in an office chair and grabs on to a glass of scotch for dear life.

CARLIN
[handing over some papers] These trade proposals just came in.

ALDERSON
[scans each page and hands them back one by one] Pull the trigger, pull the trigger, hold your fire, keep the safety on, squeeze the trigger halfway and see if they flinch.

DEPODESTA
The Dodgers are on the phone. They want to know if they can have a second baseman on credit.

ALDERSON
Tell McCourt he needs someone with a decent credit score to cosign the loan. And make sure it’s not a psychic.

RICCIARDI
The office is getting antsy because we’re running out of food.

ALDERSON
Call up the kitchen and order up another 72 pizzas, 15 pounds of lo mein, and a small vat of Red Bull. And just a green salad for me. No radishes.

EINHORN
Jeez, Sandy. This trade deadline stuff is insane. I used to work on Wall Street, but this makes the stock market floor look like Girl Scout jamboree.

ALDERSON
Of course it does. You traders were just creating the financial future of our nation; we’re building a ball club here. Also, Girl Scouts don’t go on jamborees.

CARLIN
Yes they do.

ALDERSON
J.P., find out if Girl Scouts go on jamborees.

RICCIARDI
I’m on it.

EINHORN
Any of this balancing act going toward getting rid of our closer? Your predecessor gave him a contract option with an irrevocable 12-year extension and double-super no-trade clause that vests if he reaches 75 innings pitched. If that’s activated, we can say goodbye to resigning Grant Linwood, or anyone else for the next decade.

ALDERSON
No, David I was not aware of that because I’ve been living under a rock since I took this job, and I’m also blind, and I can’t read any of the newspapers who’ve been talking about it every day since spring training, and also I was born yesterday on the back of a turnip truck.

EINHORN
Alright, you’ve got the snark covered. How about some leads for a trade?

ALDERSON
We’re doing everything we can. The only thing that won’t help is worrying about it. My experience tells me these kinds of things tend to work themselves out. My mother always said, “For every old sock, there’s a shoe.”

EINHORN
That’s great. We’re on the brink of financial collapse and your solution is downhome folksy wisdom from your mother.

ALDERSON
Not a solution, David. Just a coping mechanism.

EINHORN
Until you can come up with more than that, I’m gonna have to tell our manager to keep the closer out of games.

ALDERSON
That would be a great way to sic the players’ union on us. We can’t keep him on the bench if we ever want to sign another free agent again. We have to just keep calm and carry on.

CARLIN
[handing over paper] The Yankees want our top prospect in exchange for an autographed picture of Kevin Maas.

ALDERSON
[handing it back] Hold out for half off the truffle fries at NYY Steak.

EINHORN
Ugh, too much talking and thinking in here. I need some air.

EINHORN abandons his chair and his drink and leaves the office, entering the even more chaotic venue outside. He narrowly dodges assistants zipping all over the place and yelling at each other, until he bumps into a confused looking GRANT LINWOOD.

EINHORN
Grant? What are you doing up here?

LINWOOD
It started as a quest for more sunflower seeds, and somehow I found my way into this office. I just picked up a random phone and I think I may have accidentally traded for a few Houston Astros prospects.

EINHORN
Impossible; the Astros have no prospects. But I’m glad I ran into you, Grant. I think I’ve thought of a way we can help each other out.

LINWOOD
I’m all ears, as long as it don’t involve getting naked or moving furniture.

EINHORN
I wouldn’t dream of making my number one star move furniture!

EINHORN puts his arm around LINWOOD and they walk off.

Continue reading Studio 60 on Roosevelt Avenue: Episode 8 →

Baseball

The Church of Jeter

So, Derek Jeter then.

The Captain notched his 3000th hit in just about the most dramatic fashion possible. The only way it could’ve been more The Natural-ish is if hit #3K was a grand slam that simultaneously won the World Series and healed the sick. I tuned into the game, halfheartedly paying attention while trying to write. When Jeter reached down and pulled the ball into left field for a homer, despite the fact that I was alone in the house, I blurted out loud Are you fucking kidding me? Of course, Jeter followed it up by going 5-for-5 and knocking in the game’s go-ahead run. It was all just too perfect. You know those sickeningly sweet breakfast cereals that kids gobble but which are way too sugary for an adult’s tastebuds? This was the sports equivalent of that.

In this situation, as a non-Yankee fan, one’s first inclination is to mock and denigrate, which naturally I did. This is dumb, because it just comes across as sour grapes, and because it denies me a chance to enjoy something that should be enjoyable. As a rational human being (or at least a person who tries to be one) and a baseball fan, I have to concede that 3000 hits is in itself a remarkable accomplishment. I also have to admit that the way Jeter did it is so storybook perfect it would be rejected from even the tritest screenplay. Can’t I just take this in as one of those magical moments that sports hands to us once in a blue moon?

I won’t say no, I can’t, but there is something that prevents me from even allowing polite applause on this occasion. However, the more I think about this rationally, the more I have to conclude that any ill feelings I have toward Derek Jeter have almost nothing to do with him as a player or person.

Continue reading The Church of Jeter →

Baseball, The Worldwide Leader

The All Star Power Outage, Live on ESPN

1 Comment

Hello there, sports fans! Chris Berman here, aka Boomer, aka The Big Dog, aka Leatherman, aka The Back-Back-Back Guy, aka Sheila under the right circumstances. It’s certainly a thrill for all of you to view me again in my annual sojourn into America’s pasttime, The Home Run Derby. Unfortunately, a rash of injuries has caused many of the game’s biggest stars to bow out of this year’s All Star Game. Jose Reyes has a hamstring issue, Alex Rodriguez is getting knee surgery, Shane Victorino sprained his douche-bone, and Derek Jeter came down with a case of I-Dont-Wanna-Go-to-Arizona-in-July-itis. But this is still technically the Midsummer Classic, and it should still be a barburner, ain’t that right, Krukie?

I ATE MY OWN WEIGHT IN GRAVY YESTERDAY, BOOMER.

Great, so the diet’s working! As I mentioned, a good number of stars have bowed out, but we still want to honor those team players who decided to show up. That’s why we’ve organized this new event called the Scramblethon. The game’s grittiest, most pint sized players will compete against each other in a series of thrilling skills competitions. First, we’ll see who can beat out the most Baltimore chops and swinging bunts. Players will be penalized for any ball hit out of the infield. Then, we’ll see which players can make a throw from shortstop to first without bouncing it. And finally, each uniform will receive a special black-light scan to determine which one has the most accumulated caked-in dirt. The winner will receive the coveted Bronze Lunchpail and a $50 gift certificate to Lowe’s.

LOWE’S IS GOOD PEOPLE. THEY NEVER GIVE ME A HARD TIME WHEN I SNACK ON THE DRYWALL LIKE THOSE JERKS AT HOME DEPOT DO.

Special event captains David Eckstein and Joe McEwing have picked out a stellar lineup of tiny, tiny players for this event: Sam Fuld, Matt Young, Augie Ojeda, Aaron Miles, Jamey Carroll…the list goes on, but frankly, I see no point in continuing to read it. Dustin Pedroia lobbied to be included, but was disqualified for having hit more than 5 home runs in his career.

PEDROIA PLAYS THE GAME THE RIGHT WAY: HUNGRY. THIS IS THE PART WHERE I’M SUPPOSED TO MAKE A JOKE ABOUT HOW HUNGRY I AM BUT I WON’T BECAUSE I JUST ATE AN ENTIRE CAN OF PIE FILLING THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

Now the players are being carted out onto the field and unpackaged. Remember, most of these guys are made of extremely delicate material and must be stored on dry ice in between games.

INTERESTING FACT, BOOMER: MOST OF THESE GUYS ARE ACTUALLY THE UNFORTUNATE RESULTS OF SCIENCE EXPERIMENTS, AND THE MOST OF THE OTHERS ARE PUPPETS WHO BECAME REAL LIVE BOYS.

The first up is Sam Fuld, who’s originally from Durham, New Hampshire but makes his winter home in a fur storage facility in Boca Raton. And here’s his first try, it’s a beautiful check-swing, and that one’s going backbackbackback, all the way past the pitcher’s mound, they’ll never throw him out! Oh, wait, he’s wheezing just shy of the first base bag. My best guess is he may have collapsed a lung; they are made of papier maché, after all.

THEY REALLY HAVE TO OUTLAW THOSE PAPIER MACHÉ LUNGS, BOOMER. THEY’RE WORSE THAN ASH BATS AND NOT NEARLY AS DELICIOUS.

Well, this is certainly a bleak turn of events, and I for one am at a loss to think of a quote from a dinosaur rock song to properly mark this occasion, so it looks like it’s time for an injury timeout. When we come back, we’ll have the Clap-Off. Participants stand on the top step of the dugout and cheer vociferously while a more talented teammate bats! We’ll be right backbackbackbackbackback…oh please Lord, take me now.