(Wolfgang’s Steakhouse in New York City.  David Stern sits alone at a table.  Vince McMahon enters.) 

Vince McMahon: David!

David Stern: Vince!  You old so and so! 

McMahon: My old squash buddy!  How have you been?

Stern: Oh, you know.  Could be better, could be worse.  Oh, hi, Will.

(Will Smith walks by table.)

Will Smith: Hi, David.  Vince.

McMahon: Hey there, Will.

Stern: (back to McMahon) I mean, we’ve got this dream Finals match-up, but now we’ve got Donaghy flapping his gums again.

McMahon: Yeah, I’ve read about that. 

Stern: You know how there are just some guys that you know in your gut you shouldn’t have trusted?  Stu Jackson has been practically begging me to let him kill him for years.

McMahon: Well, look on the bright side - at least your guys aren’t always dropping dead on you!

(Both laugh uproariously.)

McMahon: Anyway, down to business.  I know you didn’t ask me to lunch just for the pleasure of my company.

Stern: Now that you mention it, we are starting to plan for next season…

McMahon: A bit early, aren’t we?

Stern: It’s just that, seeing as how this has been such a big year for us, I really want to hit the ground running with some fresh ideas for ‘08-’09…

McMahon: Okay.

Stern: …and I thought you could help me out with that big ol’ creative brain of yours.

McMahon: All this flattery, David…I’ll give you one hour to stop.

(Both laugh uproariously, drink shot of blood.)

McMahon: Alright, let’s begin with the basics.  It all starts with your top heel.  Who’s it going to be?

Stern: My…my heel?

McMahon: Your bad guy.  Your villain.  The one everybody loves to hate.

Stern: Oh, that’s easy.  Kobe.

McMahon: But people are starting to soften on Kobe, what with this whole “unselfish play” stuff.

Stern: Well…I could send him for more “surgery” in Colorado.

McMahon: Yeeeeaaaaahhhhh, but it’s been done.  Who else you got?

Stern: Joakim Noah has some real potential.

McMahon: But he’s not even a mid-carder.  We need someone big, someone who can make a splash…I’ve got it! 

Stern: Who?

McMahon: Steve Nash!

Stern: Nash?  But everyone loves that guy!

McMahon: Exactly!  What you need is a big Michael Vick-style heel turn.

Stern: I don’t know…

McMahon: Think about it, David!  The only thing people like more than cheering for their heroes is booing them when they fall.  It can’t miss!

Stern: (pauses) Okay.  You’ve convinced me.  But how do I do it?  Contract hold-out?

McMahon: Contract hold-out?  What is this, 1988?

Stern: Okay, smart guy.  How about a failed drug test?  Heroin, maybe?

McMahon: Yeah, you’re getting warmer.  But you need something big.   Something that will seize headlines.  Something that will…wait a minute, wait…a…minute.  That’s it!

Stern: What’s it?

McMahon: You know.  The ol’… (points to himself, then to Will Smith sitting one table over)

Stern: Surely you don’t mean the (silently mouthing) race card?

McMahon: (points to nose)

Stern: But…

McMahon: Think about it, David!  It’ll be the story of the year!  He’ll sell out every single arena he plays in, just so people can boo him.  Fans will be calling in to talk radio about it non-stop.  It will transcend basketball…nay, sports!

Stern: But how would we do it?

McMahon: Okay, listen up.  Have Nash call a press conference.  He shows up dressed in his whitest outfit.  I’m talking Bright Eyes t-shirt, Titleist hat, the works.  He says he is sick of playing with giant egos.  He wants to go to a team with “hustle” guys, who play “Euro ball”.   Players who “understand how to execute a game plan”.

Stern: Go on.

Nash: He then announces he is demanding a trade to the one team that fits that bill, the one team that knows how to “play the game the right way.”  He then takes off his shirt to reveal that underneath, he is wearing…

Stern: Wearing what?

McMahon: (gives Stern a disapproving look)

Stern:  Wait…a Raptors jersey!

McMahon: Bingo!

Stern: My God!  A competitive whitewash!  We haven’t tried that in years…

McMahon: It’ll be gangbusters.  And to top it all off, they’re Canadian!

Stern: We could throw T.J. Ford in the deal!

McMahon: Atta boy!  I can see that Columbia education wasn’t a complete waste.

(Both laugh uproariously, take bite of snow leopard tartare.)

McMahon: You have the Raptors run through the league this year.  Have them knock Kevin Durant out for the season in November with a flagrant foul. Make three of them starters in the All-Star game where they won’t pass to anyone else.  Release some pictures of Carlos Delfino grinding at a club with Rihana.  They can’t be stopped.  That is, until…

Stern: Until?

McMahon: Until after a hard fought seven-game championship series, where they trash talk through the press and whine about every single call to the refs, they lose on a buzzer-beater to…

Stern: …Chris Paul’s Hornets!

McMahon: See, you don’t need me, David!

Stern: Like hell I don’t!  Vince, you truly are a genius.  Next season is going to be our biggest ever! 

McMahon: Happy to help.  Besides, I still owe you for letting Karl Malone and Dennis Rodman wrestle for my competition.  Not three years later, I bought them for a song.

Stern: Well, the least I can do is pick up the cheque.

McMahon: If you insist.

Stern: You had the prix “fixe“, right?

McMahon: Do you even have to ask?

(Both laugh uproariously, light La Carona cigars with childrens’ letters to Santa.)