Tag Archives: david einhorn

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 →

Studio 60 on Roosevelt Avenue

Studio 60 on Roosevelt Avenue: Episode 7

STUDIO 60 ON ROOSEVELT AVENUE
EPISODE 7
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

LOGLINE: Once the nation’s best and most respected baseball GM, Sandy Alderson has been reduced to trying to revive a moribund franchise is 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 interior of a bus. In the back, players act rowdy, tossing paper airplanes and switching seats like little kids. Toward the front sit SANDY ALDERSON and DAVID EINHORN.

ALDERSON: I still don’t like this corporate retreat idea. Especially since we have to forfeit three home games to take it.

EINHORN: Gotta spend money to make money, Sandy. Sure, it’s three losses on our ledger, but you can’t put a price on an invaluable team building experience like this.

ALDERSON: But we already are a team. That I built.

EINHORN: I, I, I–too much of that word, Sandy. There’s no “I” in team. You have to be more of an organization guy, like me. Everything I do I do for this team. I am the consummate team player. Ask anyone about me and they’ll tell you that! C’mon, get into it! Look, even Old Man Wilpon’s jazzed for this trip.

Quick shot of FRED WILPON completely passed out in a bus seat, snoring.

Cut to: Hotel conference room. Entire team sits cross-legged on the floor in pairs, trying to build pyramids made out of clothespins and hardboiled eggs on top of a skateboard while one partner is blindfolded. The ACTIVITY DIRECTOR, a loud, blond, tanned type, shouts encouragement through a bullhorn.

ACTIVITY DIRECTOR: That’s it people, you can do it! Remember, the blindfolded person must trust his partner to give correct direction, and the non-blindfolded partner must trust his partner to listen! And to not crack any of those hardboiled eggs if you can, because they’ve been sitting around a while!

Pan over to ALDERSON, who is blindfolded, and EINHORN, attempting the activity. ALDERSON gingerly tries to place a clothespin onto his construction.

EINHORN: Easy, easy…[whispering] Listen, this whole thing is just a front.

ALDERSON: The clothespin?

EINHORN: The whole trip. I organized it as cover so we could initiate some secret talks with Grant Linwood for a contract extension.

ALDERSON: I thought Linwood said he wouldn’t negotiate in season.

EINHORN: Publicly, yes. Privately, his people have reached out to me. They’re willing to talk, but only if we can keep a lid on this thing. Problem is, there’s no way we can keep quiet about talks like this back home. Our offices are crawling with reporters and spies. I found Bill Madden in my washroom last week. That’s why we had to skip town.

ALDERSON: Don’t you still need Wilpon’s signoff on any big contracts like that?

EINHORN: We’re not going to actually sign a contract with him. We’re just going to hammer out the finer details, like how much money he wants and for how long.

ALDERSON: Oh, so just the little things.

EINHORN: Exactly! Then, we’ll leak word to the press that the negotiations are going on and whip the fanbase into a frenzy. By that point, Wilpon will have to approve the whole thing.

ALDERSON: Why not just conference with Wilpon to see if he’s on board with this?

EINHORN: You might have a lot of book-smarts, Sandy, but you don’t know jack about business. You don’t talk to your partners directly. You have meetings behind their back, strategize how to work around them, close all channels of communication. Then, right at the end, you loop them in and make it seem like what you decided is not only a good idea, but their idea.

ALDERSON: Sounds like the epitome of teamwork.

EINHORN: Of course it is! You know how many people you need to help you execute a proper back channel screwing? [pulls out a map, points to a spot] This is the golf course at this resort. There’s a bench right here, next to the 15th hole. You’re gonna meet Linwood there at 4pm today. You ask him, “Has the weather cleared up yet?” If he says, “Cloudy with a chance of meatballs,” negotiations are off. If he says, “Why yes, the forklifting is superior today,” that means he’s ready to talk.

ALDERSON: I don’t think all of this John LeCarre stuff is necessary. Can’t I just knock on his room door, or have dinner with him…

EINHORN: Not unless you want the press all over this and the word leaking out before we want it to. This has to be done in complete secrecy. Not a word of this to anyone. Not your assistants, not Wilpon, not your wife, not even me.

ALDERSON: But you came up with the plan.

EINHORN: [covering ears] I know nothing, la la la, not listening…

The ACTIVITY DIRECTOR suddenly stands over the two of them.

ACTIVITY DIRECTOR: [through bullhorn] Chop chop, gentlemen. Less talking, more communication!

Continue reading Studio 60 on Roosevelt Avenue: Episode 7 →

Studio 60 on Roosevelt Avenue

Studio 60 on Roosevelt Avenue: Episode 6

STUDIO 60 ON ROOSEVELT AVENUE
EPISODE 6
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

LOGLINE: Once the nation’s best and most respected baseball GM, Sandy Alderson has been reduced to trying to revive a moribund franchise is 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

Press conference. SANDY ALDERSON stands at a podium, fielding questions from a clamoring throng of reporters as flashbulbs go off in his face.

ALDERSON: My answer to that question would be no, I have no philosophical opposition to a dog playing for a major league baseball team. As to the question of whether or not a dog has a soul, I think that’s more of a query for the church. Yes, you over there?

WORMWOOD: Tommy Wormwood, New York Herald-Gazette. What do you say to the charge that the team has struggled lately because it relies far too much on statistics, to the point of fetishizing them and relying on them above all else, eliminating Americans’ childlike love of the game in favor of a cold, calculating, robotic approach?

ALDERSON: Has someone actually charged us with that?

WORMWOOD: I will, in my scathing column to be published tomorrow!

ALDERSON: This is old news, gentlemen. I’ve been called a “stat-head” and a “numbers-freak” and a “brain-lover” ever since I became the first GM to calculate batting average in the late 1970s. If wanting data to build a better team makes me a “computer-humper,” then call me a computer-humper.

WORMWOOD: But the thing is you haven’t built a better team. This team is barely batting over .200, has no frontline starting pitching, and their bullpen is a cruel, twisted joke devised by a blind idiot god. Maybe your computer-humping has blinded you to the intangibles that make a winning team.

ALDERSON: First of all, I’m sorry I ever used the phrase “computer-humping.” Secondly, how could I possibly target intangibles when I’m building a team? An intangible is, by definition, indefinable. If something is indefinable, it can’t be truly identified or located. How can I be blind to something no one can see?

WORMWOOD: [long pause] Because stats…the problem with them, you see…Derek Jeter’s spin move…

ALDERSON leaves the podium as the reporter continues talking.

Cut to: Stadium tunnel. ALDERSON stalks toward his office trailed by J.P. RICCIARDI and PAUL DEPODESTA.

RICCIARDI: Are they giving out press credentials in Cracker Jack boxes these days? What was wrong with that guy?

ALDERSON: I’ve had much worse. You remember the press conference where someone accused me of being a Satan worshiper because I signed Jeremy Giambi?

DEPODESTA: Speaking of Satan, our most hated rivals are coming into town for the Mass Transit Series…

ALDERSON: Come now, Paul. That’s no way to talk about another team. It’s alright for fans to get fired up and angry and hit each other with rock-filled whiskey bottles, but as executives we need to be a bit more dispassionate.

DEPODESTA: You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say, “and Cashman’s already here.” He called from his limo to let us know he expected an appropriate reception.

ALDERSON: Christ, already? Alright, we better go see what Ol’ Scratch wants.

Continue reading Studio 60 on Roosevelt Avenue: Episode 6 →