Tag Archives: fred wilpon

Studio 60 on Roosevelt Avenue: Episode 9

STUDIO 60 ON ROOSEVELT AVENUE
EPISODE 9
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

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

FRED WILPON’s office. He’s sitting across the desk from RAY BARTOSZEK, a rotund, bald man of Eastern European extraction in a garish suit. They are laughing together when DAVID EINHORN walks past the open office door. He stops in his tracks and looks inside. The two men shoot each other strained glances. EINHORN stalks off, looking angry and almost tearful.

Cut to: SANDY ALDERSON’s office. He stands at his window, looking out on the field contemplatively as groundskeepers water it. EINHORN bursts in.

EINHORN
I’m being pushed out!

ALDERSON
Nice to see you, too.

EINHORN
Do you know that Wilpon’s in his office right now, talking to Ray Bartoszek?

ALDERSON
No, I didn’t know that, for despite all evidence to the contrary, I have not yet been granted omniscience.

EINHORN
Bartoszek was the guy Wilpon talked to about investing in the team before he chose me. Now he’s got him in his office and they’re laughing it up like a bunch of…laughing guys! Do you know what this means?

ALDERSON
Someone told a humorous anecdote?

EINHORN
It means I’m being pushed out! Wilpon wants another investor in this team!

ALDERSON
So? He’s not going to have majority control like you do.

EINHORN
I don’t have majority control! I don’t have any control! I just have exclusive negotiating rights with Wilpon. Except, I kinda forgot to negotiate anything. Officially, I don’t own anything yet, and Wilpon’s gonna sell it out right from underneath me!

ALDERSON
So you’ve been calling the shots for this team, making trades, taking us on team-building conferences, and you don’t even own the team yet?!

EINHORN
I was gonna take care of it, but my brother was in town for a few weeks, and then there was that day I had to pick up a chair I bought on Craigslist…I got a lot on my plate, okay! I need you to fix this, pronto!

ALDERSON
Why? You just told me you’re not officially in charge of anything. Why do I need to do what you say when I have so many other things to take care of? Just this morning I found out my second baseman will be featured on an upcoming episode of Hoarders.

EINHORN
Well…all the fun times we’ve had, for one thing.

ALDERSON
Like when you traded for the most expensive player in baseball behind my back, then filled him with enough drugs to kill Keith Richards.

EINHORN
Only some of those words are true! C’mon, I thought you loved solving crises!

ALDERSON
I don’t love it, I’m just incredibly good at it.

EINHORN
Sandy, please, I need your help. You’re the closest thing I have to a friend right now. Everyone else I know is either indicted or in mutual funds.

ALDERSON
That’s rough, mutual funds. [begins to walk EINHORN out the door] All I can tell you, David, is that a business partnership is like a relationship.

EINHORN
Because you pay for it with cash and hate each other?

ALDERSON
No, because every now and then you have to rekindle the spark. Why did you and Wilpon do business in the first place? Remember that, and you’ll find the way to get back in his good graces.

EINHORN
What if I can’t think of it?

ALDERSON
You can ask J.P., or Paul, or Carlin. They’re all top-notch assistants who can help you with your problem when they’re not managing the incredibly difficult job of keeping a ball club together.

EINHORN
And what if they can’t help me?

ALDERSON
Then maybe you and Wilpon shouldn’t have been together in the first place. David, I’m sorry, but I need to be alone right now.

ALDERSON gently pushes EINHORN out of his office and shuts the door. EINHORN looks worried as J.P. RICCIARDI and PAUL DEPODESTA walk by.

EINHORN
What’s with Sandy? He normally loves to solve problems like this.

RICCIARDI
He’s been a bit on edge lately. He gets like that every now and then.

DEPODESTA
Best to just wait it out. A genius mind like that needs a break from time to time.

Cut to inside ALDERSON’s office. He’s staring out the window again. From a nearby corner, an apparition of ALDERSON’S FATHER emerges, dressed in army fatigues and a GI helmet.

ALDERSON
I thought I told you to leave me alone.

FATHER
You never listened when I told you to get a haircut, ya damn hippie, so now I’m returning the favor. You know why I’m here, son–to berate you into relapse

ALDERSON
I’m not doing that.

FATHER
It’s right in your desk drawer. Why do you have it if you don’t plan on using it? You want to use it, you weakling!

ALDERSON clenches his eyes, grasps his temples and tries to massage the pain away. FATHER chuckles.

Continue reading Studio 60 on Roosevelt Avenue: Episode 9

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
PILOT
WRITTEN COMPLETELY BY AARON SORKIN TOTALLY ALONE AND UNDER GREAT DURESS

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

Long tracking shot. We transition from ballplayers talking in front of their lockers to earnest reporters, through a long utility tunnel, and into the team’s lush executive offices. Audio: intermingled bits of in-game sound, post-game interviews, and the typical hustle and bustle of office life. Shot should last at least 7 minutes.

Suits scramble back and forth across a hallway lined with framed covers of old yearbooks, blown up photos of World Series celebrations, etc. SANDY ALDERSON emerges from his office and stalks down the carpet, trailed shortly thereafter by PAUL DEPODESTA.

DEPODESTA: You should look happier, considering tonight’s results.

ALDERSON: This is my happy face, you can’t tell?

DEPODESTA: The team came down from 12 runs down in the bottom of the ninth to win.

ALDERSON: There is no “winning” in this game, Paul.

DEPODESTA: I think there is actually winning in baseball, Sandy.

ALDERSON: We don’t play baseball, we play feeding frenzy. Win or lose, you have to face the reporters who want to know why this guy bunted in the third, or when you’re gonna trade for an ace to bolster the pitching staff. Win or lose, they’re back again the next night, hungry for more. If Sisyphus was alive today, he’d be a GM.

DEPODESTA: If it’s all so pointless, just quit.

ALDERSON: Everything’s pointless, Paul. Might as well do hardest pointless thing there is.

DEPODESTA: Is that what you learned in the Marines, Sandy?

ALDERSON: [shoots a withering look]

DEPODESTA: Sorry, Sandy. I forgot you don’t talk about, well…

Continue reading Studio 60 on Roosevelt Avenue