Don Pinchus Giamatti, known throughout the underworld for his ability to weasel out of federal charges as “Teflon Tush,” was furious. The McMahon-Stugatz Syndicate was muscling in on the west coast chocolate covered endive market, costing the Giamatti family millions of dollars.
“Get me ‘The Greek,'” Don Pinchus ordered his Lieutenant, Johnny “The Hotshot MBA Who Broke His Mother’s Heart” Siegel. “I got some business with the McMahon-Stugatz Syndicate that I need taken care of.” Siegel grimly hurried out of the room to make the call to Frankie Santucci, ‘The Greek,” the most successful hit man the previous season.
He reluctantly returned five minutes later. “Well?” Don Pinchus barked.
“His manager wouldn’t let him come to the phone,” Siegel responded.
“His what? Get me the bum on the phone… Now!”
Siegel dialed the number, and was soon arguing into the receiver. Don Pinchus impatiently snatched it from him and asked, “Who the hell is this?”
“This is Jack ‘Swifty’ Eagleson, Frankie Santucci’s Personal Management Facilitator,” a cheerful voice answered. “Do I have the pleasure of speaking to the Teflon Tush?”
“Have some respect!” Don Pinchus gasped.
“Don Pinchus,” Eagelson quickly corrected himself. “Sorry, babe. I been schmoozing with the fourth estate – I had to switch gears to talk to a real human being again. Siegel says you want my boy to play for you – that’s good. He’s eager to get back into the game. Only, he isn’t prepared to accept a contract until we can hammer out a more advantageous pricing arrangement…”
“What?” Don Pinchus exploded. “He gets 15 thou a hit, plus airfare, hotel, a car and a bonus of an apple pie baked by my mother. That’s the way it’s always been.”
“Hunh…I hear ya, Don. But, the old ways are not good any longer. Now, Frankie, I figure he’s worth 50 thou a hit, plus a 100 thousand signing bonus and the usual incentives for staying out of the papers, with an option for a second year at two million -“
“Two million? That’s outrageous!”
“Well, babe, frankly, I don’t see it that way. Frankie had 22 successful hits last year, and he saved six more for you when your starters were yanked from the game by the cops. Let’s face it: the kid is at the top of his game, and he’s worth a lot more than you’re currently paying him.”
“Maybe…but, two million a year!”
“Listen – Guido “The Spitter” Morris is getting one point five, and he only had 18 hits and two saves. You don’t expect Frankie, who had a better season, to accept less money, do you?”
“Aah, this is stupid! I don’t have to argue with you – Frankie has six more hits to go on his old contract!”
“Hey, babe, don’t play hardball with me. If you wanna pull out the contract, we’ll just have to see how Frankie’s rotator cuff is doing…”
“Rotator cuff?”
“Yeah. It’s a joint in the arm that was discovered during the negotiations for the 1985 season.”
“What the hell does the rotator cuff have to do with anything?”
“You wouldn’t expect Frankie to accept an assignment when he’s injured, would you? You’ll have to put him on the Disabled List…he could be out for the rest of the season…”
“This is blackmail!”
“You would know.”
“I’m not gonna pay! What are you gonna about that, wise guy?”
“Sorry, Don Pinchus, but you’re shooting blanks. We can always sign with another family willing to pay what the kid’s worth. If nobody’s willing, we could always play in Japan – I hear the triads are dying for American talent!”
“Go to Japan, then! The Dons will never get into a bidding war – it would bankrupt all the families!”
“Don Pinchus, I don’t think you fully appreciate what is transpiring here. The Dons have been making huge sums of money from the labours of the players. Let’s face it: superstars like Frankie are the people who make the money for the family – it’s time they had a fairer share of it.”
“Go to hell!” Don Pinchus shouted, angrily slamming the receiver into the cradle.
First baseball, then hockey, now organized crime, he thought to himself. Free agency is destroying all of America’s great institutions!