George Steinbrenner is seated alone, in his office (the size of a small airport), behind his desk.  A game board with myriad pieces is strewn over the entire surface of the desktop.

Steinbrenner:  Awright...now I'll move all these armies to Kamchatka...who cares if you can't normally go from the Indian subcontinent to far Eastern Siberia directly...I didn't get where I am without rewriting a few rules...God, I love this game!

[The phone rings.  Steinbrenner picks up the receiver.]

Steinbrenner:  This better be good Sandra.  You know how I hate to be disturbed when I'm playing Risk against myself.  Aaron who?  Not Aaron Burr?  Oh...Boone.  What the hell does he want?  Never mind.  Send him in and let's get this over with.

[Yankees third baseman Aaron Boone enters the office, on crutches.  One leg is completely immobilized.  Struggling, he makes his way to a couch on the far wall, opposite Steinbrenner's desk.]

Steinbrenner:  What the hell happened to you?!?

Boone:  I'm sorry Mr. Steinbrenner, I tore the anterior cruciate ligament in my knee.

Steinbrenner:  What?  How the hell did that happen?

Boone:  Well, I uh...

Steinbrenner:  You damn well better not have injured yourself doing something in violation of the terms of your contract.

Boone:  I...

Steinbrenner:  If you did, you're in a peck of a trouble, mister.  I mean, I'll put you on a spit and roast you over an open fire.  Maybe stick an apple in your mouth while I'm doing it, for effect.  I've pilloried people for less, let me tell you that.

Boone: (somewhat evasively)  I...uh...I fell off my truck.

Steinbrenner:  You did what?!?

Boone:  (more assertively)  I fell off my truck.

Steinbrenner:  And just how in the hell did you manage to do that?

Boone:  Well, I was washing it, and...uh...I was up in the bed, and I slipped on a wet spot, and one leg went out from under me and the other was caught and stuck behind something and I heard this pop.

Steinbrenner:  A pop?

Boone:  Yeah...you know, like the cereal.  Anyway, the doc said the ACL was torn so he repaired it and as soon as I could, I came here to tell you.

[A long pause ensues as Steinbrenner appears to size up Boone's story.]

Steinbrenner:  Okay.  I thought you were going to give me some cock and bull story; you did the right thing to tell me the truth.

Boone:  (visibly relieved)  Thanks Mr. Steinbrenner.

Steinbrenner:  Now, let's deal with the fallout.  We've got a problem here, don't we?  I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but you were supposed to be our starting third baseman this season, weren't you?

Boone:  (sheepishly)  Yes, Mr. Steinbrenner.

Steinbrenner:  That's what I thought.  How long before you're able to start playing?  Will you be ready for the start of spring training or what?

Boone:  Um...ah...

Steinbrenner:  Come on, what's the story?

Boone:  Well...the doc says I'll probably be out for the season.

Steinbrenner:  What?!?

Boone:  He said I might be able to come back as early as August.

Steinbrenner:  August?!?!   August?!?!  For crying out loud, the season will be 3/4 over by then!  What are we going to do until then?  And why am I asking you?

Boone:  I...

Steinbrenner:  Shut up.

[Steinbrenner picks up the phone.]

Steinbrenner:  Sandra, get me...get me that snot-nosed, pimply-faced little weasel...what do you mean which one?  You know...whathisface...the one I gave the general manager's title to...yeah, yeah, Cashman that's it.  Get me Cashman!  Now!  I want him in my office pronto!

[Steinbrenner slams the receiver down.]

Steinbrenner:  That snot-nosed little...rotten little pimply-faced...ooh, wait 'til I get my hands on him.  Smarmy little know-it-all said "We're all set for the season.  We don't need to make any more moves."  Ha.

[Steinbrenner begins pacing back and forth behind his desk.]

Steinbrenner:  I don't know why I listen to these idiots.  I just knew that something like this would happen and we'd get caught shorthanded.  And here it is, late January...spring training starts in just a few weeks...and all the good third basemen who were available, guys like Tony Batista and Jeff Cirillo, they've all been scooped up by other teams.  What the hell are we going to do now...oh, just wait until I get my hands around the neck of that little goofball, I swear I'll...

[Steinbrenner realizes that Boone is still on the couch, watching and listening to all of this.]

Steinbrenner:  What the hell are you still doing here?

Boone:  W--

Steinbrenner:  Shut up!  Get the hell out of here!  Don't you have rehab to start or something?  Maybe if you get off your big fat butt and start working you'll be able to come back by the All-Star break!  Now get out of here and I don't want to see you again until you can leg out an infield hit!

[Boone scrambles to his feet, grabs his crutches, and leaves the room as quickly as possible.]

Steinbrenner:  Geezus, the people I have to deal with.  Fell off a truck...what does he think he is, stolen goods?

[Steinbrenner picks up the phone.]

Steinbrenner:  Sandra, where the hell is that weasely little...well then send the so-and-so in here for crying out loud!

[Steinbrenner slams the receiver down and rubs his hands together.  The door opens and Brian Cashman, tentatively, enters the room.]

Cashman:  You wanted to see me, boss?

Steinbrenner:  Cashman, get your ass in here; sit it down, right there!

[Cashman takes a seat in the same place that Boone vacated.]

Steinbrenner:  Have you heard about Boone?

Cashman:  Yes.  He fell off his truck while cleaning it.

Steinbrenner:  And just what do you propose to do about it?

Cashman:  Well, since he's already fallen off, I don't think there's much that I...

Steinbrenner:  Not that, you nincompoop.  We've got a third base problem, have we not?  Our starting third baseman just pulled a Jeff Kent and here we are, late in January, and we have a big fat stinking hole at the hot corner.  What exactly do you propose to do about that, hmmm?

Cashman:  Okay, yes, we have a bit of a problem.

Steinbrenner:  A bit of a problem?

Cashman:  Well...here's how I see it.  We could try to rely on what we've already got on the roster to fill the spot until Boone's ready again.

Steinbrenner:  Who the hell have we got on the roster?

Cashman:  Enrique Wilson.

Steinbrenner:  Are you mad?

Cashman:   Miguel Cairo?

Steinbrenner:  Are you insane?  Have you got anything moving around in that skull of yours?  Do you really expect the New York Yankees to start the season with Enrique Wilson or Miguel Cairo at third?

Cashman:  Well...no, not really, but I thought I'd ask.

Steinbrenner:  What about whathisface...that football player you guys convinced me to give millions to three years ago?

Cashman:  You mean Drew Henson?

Steinbrenner:  Whatever his name is.  What about him?  Isn't it about time we started to see some return on that investment?

Cashman:  Well...

Steinbrenner:  Well what?

Cashman:  He's not ready for the big leagues yet.

Steinbrenner:  Still not ready?  What is it with this guy?  I swear, I'm starting to see visions of the fat...toad pass before my eyes all over again.

Cashman:  He's still young, boss...it's just not his time yet.  (Almost inaudibly)  He may never be ready.

Steinbrenner:  What was that?

Cashman:  I said...but just wait 'til he's steady.

Steinbrenner:  Alright, Mr. Smarty Pants...what do we do, now?

Cashman:  We could try to pick up Robin Ventura again.

Steinbrenner:  What is that, some kind of joke?  Didn't we unload him for a bag of rocks last year to make room for that...that truck washer?  Wait a second, what about that kid in Texas?

Cashman:  Hank Blalock?  The Rangers will never deal him.

Steinbrenner:  No dufus, not him, the other kid...the one with the huge contract.

Cashman:  (incredulously)  A-Rod?

Steinbrenner:  Right, the shortstop.

Cashman:  Uh...what about him?

Steinbrenner:  Well, they're trying like hell to move him, right?  Whaddaya say we make a play for him...pick him up--we won't have to part with anything, they just want to dump his salary, right?

Cashman:  Well...yeah, but we've already got a shortstop.

Steinbrenner:  What are you, some kind of dolt?  How much am I paying you, for Chrissake?  We move him to third.  Or we leave him at short and move the Jeter kid to third.  No muss, no fuss.

Cashman:  Um...I'm not sure either of them will accept a move from short.

Steinbrenner:  You know something Cashman, sometimes you're dumber than a tree stump.  One of them will move, no sweat.  We'll shame them into it if we have to, embarrass them in the media.  Geezus, do I have to think of everything around here?  What do I pay you people for, anyway?  Just remember how much these guys are making.  From what I read, the Rodriguez kid is so anxious to get the hell out of the Metroplex that he'll sell beer in the stands if it means moving to a contender.  Yup, the more I think about this the more I like it.  We'll just take the money it'll take to pay him out of petty cash.

Cashman:  Boss, he has a a no-trade clause.

Steinbrenner:  Who?

Cashman:  A-Rod.

Steinbrenner:  What's the matter with you Cashman?  We'll get him to waive it.  He was willing to waive it to go to those morons in Boston, wasn't he?

Cashman:  But his agent...

Steinbrenner:   What about him?

Cashman:  It's...

Steinbrenner:  Who?  Who's his agent?

Cashman:  (Jarring chord)  It's...Scott Boras.

Steinbrenner:  (A look of dread permeates his face)  Oh crap.  That S.O.B...

Cashman:  Sorry, boss.

Steinbrenner:  It was such a good idea.

Cashman:  It was inspired, boss.

Steinbrenner:  Damn.

Cashman:  Well, maybe we can still get Ventura...

Steinbrenner:  Screw that.  We'll go after the Rodriguez kid...

Cashman:  But boss, what about Boras?

Steinbrenner:  Screw him.  Screw 'em all.  We want the Rodriguez kid, that's who we'll get.

Cashman:  But how?

Steinbrenner:  You should be telling me that, but never mind.  Earn your salary for the week; get the Rodriguez kid on the phone for me...no, not in here, go to your own office and ring me when you've got him on the line.  I'll fix Boras' wagon.  I swear, I have to do everything around here.  Just get the hell out of here and let me know when you've got him.  Go on, get out.

[Cashman leaves the room.]

Steinbrenner:  We'll give the Rodriguez kid his own chain of dry cleaning places or something...I'll give him a couple million extra to dump that S.O.B. Boras and we'll pay off the player's association to allow the deal to go through.  We're going to win the Series again this year I can feel it...god, I love turning a negative into a positive...now let's see...if I move these armies to Brazil I can leverage Congo, Spain and New Guinea and Finlandize the Eastern Hemisphere...

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