"Honestly?" A-Rod said. "What I love to do is go to the Metropolitan Museum and see the Impressionists. I could do that for hours."
The Man sounds like The Mom.
"That's how he is," said Derek Jeter, the Yankees shortstop and late-night club-hopper. "The man needs serious help."
Some people just don't get their roles. A-Rod refuses to show up in Star Magazine with some blonde wearing too much lipstick and not enough dress. He stays happily married, almost two years now. He does hit the bars for an hour after every game, but they're the bars with weights on the ends of them.
Fortunato left a message on his cell: "Call me. It's important." When Rodriguez called back, Fortunato told him about a quick TV spot that would pay half-a-million bucks. And A-Rod said, "Steve, I thought you said it was important."
"Hey, I just like to work on my game," Rodriguez said.
Your game? Hello? You were American League MVP last year! You've already got 383 career home runs, and you're not even 'roided up. There are two Gold Gloves on the wall over there! Work on your game? How many times can you comb Fabio's hair?
"This is how he's always been," griped Soccaras. "He is baseball 24 hours a day. When we were kids, he'd make me meet him at the park at 5:30 in the morning. I'd be half asleep, and he'd be like, 'O.K., drills!' We'd get to school all sweaty and stinky. You go through a lot of friends that way."
"But what do you do when you just want to splurge?" I asked Rodriguez. "You know? Buy something the rest of us can see only in the Robb Report? Maybe a cigarette boat, charter a 737 to Rio, light Cohibas with hundred-dollar bills?"