Bud Selig = E.B. Farnum

INT. BUD SELIG'S MILWAUKEE OFFICE - DAY - PRESENT

BUD SELIG, the Commissioner of Major League Baseball, sits at his desk, scarfing down a Gilles hot dog. On the floor, wrappers from dozens of consumed wieners. His number one man, ROBERT DUPUY, MLB Chief Operating Officer, stands impatiently at the door, waving an article about Barry Bonds.

DUPUY: The media’s asking for a statement about Barry Bonds again, Commissioner. They’re on deadline.
SELIG: If the conversation’s brief, I’m absolutely equal to the task. But allow me a moment, Dupuy, I am having a digestive crisis and must focus on suppressing its expression.
DUPUY: They just want to know, are you going to watch him break the home run record or not?
SELIG: My wish is to serve baseball, be the fashion great or mean.
DUPUY: Then I think you should stop avoiding the decision.
SELIG: May I quibble with “avoid,” sir, as inexactly fitting the case? Not all not-makings-of-a-decision are avoidances necessarily, would you say?
DEPUY: (picks up phone) Here, it’s Fox Sports. Take their call.
SELIG: Get away from me, God damn you! (Falls back on his Aeron executive chair, and yelps)
DUPUY: Bud, what the hell is your answer?
SELIG: Excuse me. I-I am mad. Tell him yes, I’ll be there to watch the home run... Wait, tell him, no I will not be there!... Wait, I mustn’t tell at all, lest I then wander the thoroughfare gibbering like a simian…brandishing my privates in my fist.
DEPUY: At least give them an idea when you think you’ll decide.
SELIG: (twitches) Is it warm in here? (fans himself)
DEPUY: You have the air conditioning set to 55.
SELIG: Chilly is it, Dupuy? You find it chilly!
DUPUY: (sighs) Okay, Bud...
SELIG: Why say “okay”? If you don’t mean to go on to explain yourself, why say anything at all?! Do you only feign stupidity while in fact plotting ways to madden me?!
DUPUY: I’ll just tell the media you still haven’t made a decision.
SELIG: Why did you say it, Dupuy? Why did you say “Okay”?!
DUPUY: Good bye, Bud.

(Dupuy tosses the Bonds article, leaves. Selig follows him to the door.)

SELIG: (yelling) Whatever day I do decide, count on me not to mince words. “Fans of baseball, as to whether to commemorate the record of Barry Bonds, reasonable men may differ. But as to whether the record is of importance, we all ought to speak with one voice. And our words should be, 'Take me out to the ballgame, take me out with the crowd!' Then we should rise up and buy many season tickets and MLB merchandise! Thank you very much.”

(Dupuy is gone. Selig yells after him.)

SELIG: Wash and stack, shit monkey! Or ready yourself for worse.

(Selig goes inside his office and shuts the door—panting in panic.)

SELIG: Cocksuckers. Think they can take away everything. Oh, cocksuckers. (picks up Bonds article off the floor) Bonds. He ascends, to be dug at and sifted and shoveled till his crucial vein is exposed. Then the fans will empty him out. (chuckles; pushes intercom) Dupuy, order me two more hot dogs!

With thanks to Deadwood and my hero David Milch