Alec Baldwin's Voicemail to the Chicago Cubs

By: T.R. Slyder, TRSlyder@yahoo.com


As many of you know, I recently had a creative collaboration with Alec Baldwin. Our agreement was that I would be the creative talent, and he would do basically everything else- production, distribution, etc. He also had the final directorial say.

My idea was to have Alec play me in the vignette, and call Cubs manager Lou Piniella to yell at him for the Cubs' recent poor performance. But in an attempt to avoid this tongue-lashing, Lou would then avoid my call, which would lead to "me" (i.e. Alec) leaving a vitriolic tirade of a voice mail about how their crappy play was starting to really piss me off.

I thought that idea was pretty good, but Alec had other ideas. Being a guy with a flair for the dramatic, he wanted to make this more of an allegorical saga; he wanted it to be about a father disappointed with his daughter. My disappointment with the Cubs would be symbolized by the father's disappointment with the daughter. I felt that was a little over the top, but he insisted that this allegory would ultimately make for a more heartfelt catharsis.

As you can see, we came to an impasse. And being that he had all the leverage, he got his way.
So in the embedded window below is the audio of Alec's finalized vision. Below that window is my original transcript and you may follow along as you listen and observe the alterations that Alec made to the text.






-At T.R.'s Apartment. It's messy with Cubs magazines scattered across the floor, and empty Old Style cans. The Cubs game is on the TV in the background. It's apparent T.R. has been crying.-


Alec: (Stern, Aggressive, Forthright, Fed up) "Hey I wanna tell you something, ok? And I want to leave a message for you right now. 'Cause again, it's 10:30 here in Chicago on a Friday, and once again I've made an ass of myself staying in on a Friday to watch your game at a specific time. When the time comes for me to watch the game, I stop whatever I'm doing and I go and watch that game at 11 o'clock in the morning in Chicago time, and if you don't pick up the phone at 10 o'clock at night. And you don't even have the goddamn phone turned on. I want you to know something, OK?

I'm tired of playing this game with you. I'm leaving this message with you to tell you, you have insulted me for the last time. You have insulted me. You don't have the brains or the decency as a human being. I don't give a damn that you're 64 years old, or 65 years old, or that you've won a World Series with the Reds, or that your mother is a thoughtless pain in the ass who doesn't care about teaching you when to pull a tiring pitcher, as far as I'm concerned. You have humiliated me for the last time with this ball team.

And when I come out there next week, I'm going to walk up to Wrigley for the day just to straighten you out on this issue. I'm going to let you know just how disappointed in you I am and how angry I am with you that you've done this to me again. You've made me feel like shit and you've made me feel like a fool over and over and over again. And this crap you pull on me with this goddamn Soriano leadoff situation that you would never dream of doing to your fans when you were with Tampa Bay, or Seattle or Cincinnati, and you do it to me constantly and over and over again. I am going to get on Clark St. and I am going to come out there for the day and I am going to straighten your ass out when I see you.

Do you understand me? I'm going to really make sure you get it. Then I'm going to get on Clark St. and I'm going to turn around and come home. So you'd better be ready Friday the 20th to meet with me. So I'm going to let you know just how I feel about what a rude little pig you really are. You are a rude, thoughtless little pig, OK?"

[fade to black]

[End]