Friday, April 27, 2012

CHARLIE HUSTLE COMES CLEAN

My eyes pop open.  Something happened.  Somewhere.  Exciting.

My iPhone rattles right then on the desk.  I knew it.  Feet on the floor, I reach for my cell.

"It's  4:45am, so please speak slowly, whoever your are."

"Woody, it's me, Diego." says Diego. "There is no way you're ever going to believe what happened."

"I wouldn't know where to start, Diego.  But can't this wait..."

"I really don't know where to start.  So I'll just start." He takes a deep breath. "You know that cab show where they ask the passengers questions, like a quiz show?  Well, that's how I got the idea.  Why not me?  I can talk to people in the cab.  Make a show out of it.  I get interesting people, right?"

"Like Jerry Springer?"

"Yeah, well sorta. I guess, but no fighting.  Yeah, like that.  So guess what I did?"

"Don't tell me..."

"Yep.  I got a guy to put those little spy cameras all inside my cab.  Now everything that goes on inside is taped.  I had to tell you.  And I used it for the first time last night."

"Could work, I guess.  Why not?  Of course you'll be needing a director, and editors to watch all the footage, a post production crew, graphics, and ...distribution."

"Hey, thanks for killing a dream, here.  And how do you know so much about TV?"

"I was Rod Serling in a previous life."

"Who?...Okay, come on, I'm not done.  Here's the good part.  I got the cameras working and guess who the first person is in the cab?  Pete Rose."

My body jumps. "Who?  Pete Rose?  What?  No way."

"Fantastic, right?  First person on my show.  Charlie Hustle, himself."

"Pete Rose?  Now this is getting better. "

"You're telling me.  But you won't believe this.  He's got a smile on his face, and, are you ready, he won't stop talking, like he's had too much coffee.  He tells me he's been living in Las Vegas, and for five grand, you can have dinner with him.  Like a family dinner at some fancy hotel, but with him.  That's what he does.  And that's not all.  When he's not eating, he goes to people's homes, again for five grand and he signs a whole bunch of stuff, like baseball cards, hats, balls, anything they want.  He's all excited about it." 

"Yeah, I hear he's been doing that.  Fans still like him.  They think he's done his time."

"But wait, here's where it gets really good.  He says there's rumors that he could be voted into the Baseball Hall of Fame, if he breaks down and confesses about what he did.  You know, the gambling stuff.  So, he tells me, right there in the cab.  With the cameras on.  Can you believe?"

"Wait.  He tells you about the gambling?  Wholly Cow, Diego.  This is big.  Real big.  Did you get a release?"

"A what?"

"A release.  Did he sign, so you can use it on the air.  Otherwise you'll get sued.  They'll confiscate the tape.  You can't use it.  You have to have a signed release.   He'll just deny it, and say you made it up, on somebody's computer, photo shopped it, whatever."

"He didn't seem to care, talking about it.  When he was manager of the Reds, he bet on them to lose.   Fatal mistake, he said.  Guy batting .215 gets a walk off homer, and the Reds win, when he needed them to lose.  He left a pitcher in who was shot, who somehow won.   The last game, bottom of the line up rallies in the ninth.  Says he only bet on three games he managed.  Said he lost a lot.  It's all on tape.  He'd like to be in the Hall of Fame, but if not, he says his fans know how good he was."

"So that's how it went down?  It's true what he did."

"From the horse's mouth."

"Diego, maybe the National Inquirer, or the NY Post.   Maybe you can sell it to them.  They don't seem to care much about law suits.  They make more on the story than they usually pay out when they lose the case.  I'd tell Pete about it first, see how he wants to handle it."

"He knows already.  I got back to him through that reservation number.  I let him know it was all recorded.  Maybe he'd give me an intro to the first episode of my show, you know, some kind of build up.  But he wasn't all that happy about it."

"You think?"

"He didn't say much, only that he didn't know he was being recorded, and no way he wants me to show anybody the tape.  So I gave him your number, 'cause you'd know what to say to him, you being in sports and all."

"Me?  Look, Diego, you know he did time.  Marion, Illinois.  So he knows people.  Know what I saying?  I don't think I'd do anything crazy with that tape.   Wait...Diego...I got another call."

I thumb my iPhone.  "Speak to me."

"Like to talk with Brentwood Belair.  This is Pete Rose."

"Oh my Gawd.  Mr. Rose."  I freeze.  "This is...unbelievable. This is Brentwood.  I'm on the phone right now with Diego Garcia..."

"The cab driver?  Diego Garcia?  Okay, this is getting way out of hand.  I have to talk to you.  I already told him not to do anything with that tape."

"I just this minute heard the story from him."

"Oh, boy," says Pete.

"He's thinking about selling it to the National Inquirer.  I'm trying to talk with him now.  Pete, you know you're one of the biggest sports stories in the last half century."

"Okay," he says  "It was my own fault telling him."  Silence, then. "But I've thought about it.  It's time.  Everybody probably suspects what I did.  So, here's what I'm going to do.  I'm going to have a news conference, beat him to the punch, you know.  I'll give my story first, so people don' t get it from some tabloid, some tape of me in a cab."

"It's time?" I say.

"I could go to court, sue, and all that, but it just makes things worse,  makes me look bad."

"But what about Diego?  He's wants to sell the tape.  What should I tell him?"

Silence.

"Hello?  Pete?  You there?"

"Brentwood, I've read your stuff.  I trust you on this.  You seem to know this Diego, so please, tell him this.  He's the owner of a small cab company, right?"

"Fresh Air Cab Company."

"Yeah, so tell him I'll buy him a new cab, he keeps quiet for 48 hours.  Give me a chance to do this right.  It's time I told.  48 hours, okay."

"Pete, hold on,...Diego, you still there?"

"Woody, what's going on?"

"It was Pete Rose calling me.  So listen.  Here's the deal.  He doesn't want the story to be in the Tabloids, okay.  So he said he'll buy you a new cab, if you hold off for 48 hours before you try to sell your tape."

"But,... Woody,... I can make a lot more money..."

"You'll be in court, you didn't get any release.  And like I say, guy knows people, so you want to be on his good side, right.  Listen to me, take the car."

"But..."

"The car, Diego.  It's Pete Rose.  And your tapes will be worthless once he tells his story.  It's a good deal."

"Well,...I don't know...a new car?...I guess it's okay..."

"Thanks Diego...Pete?  Pete Rose."

"I'm here."

"He says okay.  I trust him, but you should tell your story soon."

"Tomorrow.  Yeah,  I'll do it tomorrow.  I knew this day would come.  Thanks for helping me here, Brentwood.  So I can do this right.  Means a lot.  You can let everybody know I'm doing a press conference, don't say what it's about, give you a drop on the others."  Pete sighs.  "Yes, it's time.  Big weight off my shoulders..."

"Okay Pete. Thanks, I'll see ya...Diego, you still there?"

"Still here."

"So, get back to Pete, e-Mail whatever, and confirm all this.  You're getting a new car."

"Well, I guess another cab in the fleet will work out nice, but...my idea of a Taxi TV show is still a good one, no?"

"Let's work on this first.  And Pete Rose knows a lot of very rich people.  My Gawd, he's Pete Rose.  You be his exclusive cab company when his friends are in LA.  Ask him."

"Hey, maybe this will work out.  Pete's people start talking about the Fresh Air Cab Company..."

"Okay Diego.  It's 5:00 am.  You woke me up, remember?  Like I'm going right back to sleep after this."

"Think he'd do an intro for my new cab show..."Diego's Cab,'..No, 'Inside the Hollywood Cab,'...No, no, 'The Diego Garcia Show.'  Yes, that's it."

"Focus, Diego, come on.  Forget about the TV Show.  Focus. You gotta focus here."
........................

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