A TEAM PLAYER

A short play

By

Dale Andersen
27702 Crown Valley Pkwy
Suite 117, D-4
Ladera Ranch, CA 92694
562-508-5820
http://www.scribd.com/daleandersen
andersen.dale@gmail.com
©2005

Synopsis

Henry, a successful man, frustrated by the drift and

malaise in his life, weds Madeline, a woman half his
age because he wants to revive, renew, refresh,
rejuvenate. But as the ravages of time conspire
against him, Madeline is left alone to perform one
final act of mercy.

Character Breakdown

Cop………………………………………male, twenty-something
Maddie………………………………female, early 40’s
Henry…………………………………male, early 60’s

Technical Requirements

Police uniform, wheelchair, softball bat, softball, 2

softball mitts
 A TEAM PLAYER 2

(Bare stage. COP standing. Behind him,

HENRY, in wheelchair, and MADELINE)

COP:
At ten in the morning, Madeline wheeled Henry out to
the swimming pool. Like so.
(As he describes, MADELINE & HENRY come
forward and demonstrate)
Positioned him on the pool deck at the deep end. Like
so. Eased herself onto his lap, strapped herself in.
She used one of those expandable belts, running it
under the seat and pulling it tight, securing it over
her thighs, like so. Then she switched the motor on
and they drove into the pool. They sank together.
(MADELINE & HENRY retreat upstage)
The coroner took one look. No sign of forced entry, no
sign of violence. Called it murder/suicide. First
murder in this town in fifty-one years. I grew up next
door to Henry. I recall before Madeline, there was
another woman. Then one day, the other woman was gone.
(Beat)
Dad and I were in the back playing catch. And there
was Madeline, doing stretching exercises. I said in
my six year old voice, “Are you the new mommy?”

MADELINE:
Yep, that’s me, little guy. I’m the new mommy.

COP:
She had a terrific laugh. She was really tall. And
when she bent over to shake my hand, I thought I
caught the scent of the ocean.

MADELINE:
Nice handshake. He’s gonna be a little toughie.

COP:
My Dad said, “Yup. He’s my little baseball player.”
She gave me her sweatband.

MADELINE:
All real ballplayers have sweatbands.
 A TEAM PLAYER 3

COP:
I thought, “Wow!” No one had ever given me a sweatband
before. She grinned. Great grin. Then she scrunched
down next to me.

MADELINE:
When a lady gives a little boy a sweatband, that’s a
sign of a special friend. Are you going to be my
special friend?

COP:
“Sure. You bet” And every year, until I was eighteen,
I got a birthday present from Madeline and Henry. It
was always from Madeline and Henry. Never the other
way around. And it was always athletic gear. Like when
I was ten, I got a chest protector. I was second
string catcher on my Little League team. I noticed
right away with the chest protector, I got more
innings behind the plate. I started noticing Madeline
at my games. Occasionally, Henry came with her. But
usually, it was Madeline by herself. She always sat
alone and she always watched the whole game. Not like
the moms and dads who only watched when their kid was
out there. Sometimes I’d get a note. Never signed,
but I knew who it was from.

MADELINE:
Choke up, Benjamin, stop swinging for the fences.
Benjamin, keep the ball in front of you. Use your
knee, Benjamin, use your knee to block the plate.

COP:
She came to my football and basketball games too.
Including the big game against Immaculata. Mom and
Dad weren’t there. But Madeline was. Right at
courtside. I’m matched up against a big dummy. I’m
eating him alive. His coach’s giving him hell.
Suddenly, five minutes into the second half, I’m on
the floor bleeding from my forehead. Blood in my eye
blinding me. I feel Madeline pulling me to my feet.

MADELINE:
Flagrant foul! Eject him, ref! Get that hoodlum off
the court!
 A TEAM PLAYER 4

COP:
The ref hits our bench with a technical because of
Madeline. Their coach comes at me and Madeline. I
hear her saying.

MADELINE:
Keep coming, I’ll drop you like a bag of dirt!

COP:
Meanwhile, my guy’s at midcourt snickering like a
typical Catholic asshole.

MADELINE:
Number eight marked you. You better mark him back or
he wins. Doesn’t matter if you scored twenty-seven to
his five. He wins if you don’t mark him.

COP:
I can’t do that.

MADELINE:
Then you’re a coward. Do you want to be a coward?

COP:
She gives me a hard shove. At which point my
instincts basically take over. I know I got to him.
I know I took him down. I know I got my ass kicked.
We forfeited the game. I got booted off the team. My
Mom cried. My Dad bellyached about how I ruined my
chances of getting into Rice or Duke. I didn’t care.
I wasn’t exactly Rice or Duke material. The next day,
we’re at Neil Homedale’s house down in his basement.
With my teammates listening in, I called Immaculata.
“Uh hi, this is number twenty-four, Mountain Lakes
High? Would you please tell that dogass number eight,
if he wants his front teeth, he can pick them up at
twenty-one Hanover Road. Go Lakers!” Damn, that
felt good!

HENRY:
Damn it all! Damn it all to hell! What do you do
when it gets to a point where everything stagnates?
Where everyone’s in a deep funk? Where nothing seems
to advance with a purpose? You ask yourself, is this
what it’s all about? Is this as good as it gets? You
recall how you used to look forward to each dawn as a
fresh miracle. Now, you just want it to end. Because
 A TEAM PLAYER 5

HENRY(Cont):
you’re too numb and burnt out to care anymore. Maddie
was twenty-two. I was forty. She had gorgeous eyes.
The first thing she did was knock me down. She was
incredible. She was. Well, let’s just say she was in
a higher league. She was a friend of a friend. She
came with Danny Benes’ sister, Lynnie. Lynnie and
Maddie had this dog-walking business. People too busy
to walk their dogs hired Maddie and Lynnie. And
speaking of dogs, it was the dog days of August, 1984.
Early evening. Sokol versus Scores for the league
fastpitch trophy. Sokol’s a Czech social club. I’m
Czech. Proud of it. Scores is this sports bar that
sponsors a team. For a bunch of fat drunks, they’re
not bad. It was a tough game. Final score, twelve to
nine, us. I crushed everything in sight. Four for
four. Two doubles. Two home runs. Six ribbies.
Read ‘em and weep. Afterwards, we all headed back to
Scores for the post-game bash. You know the saying.
Losers cry. Losers buy. Lynnie sits next to me.
“You and Danny had a great game.” Her brother Danny
went two for four. Lynnie introduces us. “Maddie,
this is Henry Slezak. He tells everyone he’s a bigshot
Republican attorney. So be nice to him, maybe he’ll
let us walk Reagan’s dog.” Maddie’s sitting directly
across the table. I grin, yeah, I heard about you
guys. Walking dogs for Yuppies. Talk about a scam.

MADELINE:
It’s not a scam. We do it all. We bathe. We groom.
We babysit. Tell all your rich Republican clients.

HENRY:
Do these Yuppies ever actually get to see their dogs?

MADELINE:
‘Course they do.

HENRY:
Well, I’m just a simple attorney. Don’t have time for
a dog. So what did you think of my four for four?

MADELINE:
You were pretty good.

HENRY:
Pretty good? Whaddaya mean? I had an MVP night.
 A TEAM PLAYER 6

MADELINE:
Their pitcher wasn’t exactly making you work.

HENRY:
What are you talking about? He could bring it.

MADELINE:
His pitches had “hit me” written all over them.

HENRY:
Say what?!?

MADELINE:
Hitting is timing. Pitching is upsetting timing.
There was no movement on his ball.

HENRY:
I suppose you could do better.

MADELINE:
Better than him.

HENRY:
Tell you something, Lynnie. You got a helluva partner
here. She’s got some balls. Lynnie giggles. I turn
back to Maddie, I bet you couldn’t.

MADELINE:
I know I could. I could dust you on two pitches.

HENRY:
Dust me? You’re gonna dust me?!? You hear that,
Danny? Bright Eyes here says she can dust me.
Danny rolls his eyes. Tell you what, Bright Eyes. If
you can dust me, I’ll buy you the best steak in town.
Just name the time and place.

MADELINE:
First of all, my name isn’t Bright Eyes. Secondly, I
don’t eat steak. But you can buy me a salmon fillet.

HENRY:
You mean, if you dust me.

MADELINE:
I mean, when I dust you.
 A TEAM PLAYER 7

HENRY:
So how about let’s do it right here? Outside?

MADELINE:
You are really pushing it.

HENRY:
That’s what I’m good at, pushing it. Okay, winner
crows, loser owes. She shakes, strong handshake. I get
a bat, two softballs. We gather in the alley behind
Scores. Half the people in the bar come out. We pace
it off, a piece of cardboard for a plate. I flip her
the softballs. Here you go, Bright Eyes, two balls,
two pitches. I settle into my crusher stance. She has
her game face on, staring me down. For the first time,
I focus on the whole Maddie. Inside, it was across a
table covered with beer steins, the air thick with
smoke. I see she’s about five ten, long straight black
hair, long legs, long arms, giving me a Sparky Lyle
smirk. I give her my Thurman Munson scowl. I spit. She
winds up, strides and releases. A riser toward the
middle of the plate letter high. Looks easy. I stride
into it, beginning my swing, just as it leaps up and
flashes past my chin. I pick myself off the asphalt,
you trying to kill me?

MADELINE:
Oh gee sorry. Guess it slipped.

HENRY:
Want me to move closer? Make it easier for you?

MADELINE:
You just worry about your hitting, Slugger.

HENRY:
I dig in. Her back to me now. She’s holding the ball
up to her face, talking to it. Then she turns, gives
me an Al Hrabosky Mad Hungarian glare. I counter with
my Gary Carter unflappable grin. I’m thinking, she
jammed me last time, she’s setting me up for the
outside corner. She nods, winds up, strides, a little
crouch just before she releases. The ball starts out
low, rising quickly and heading toward the outside
corner of the plate. Aha! Just as I guessed. But, as
I shift my body, it tails inside and kind of drops. I
pop up weakly to the mound. She one-hands it.
 A TEAM PLAYER 8

MADELINE:
I’ll have that salmon cajun style.

HENRY:
Damn! Was she ever good!

MADELINE:
Damn you, Henry Slezak. Damn you! Damn you! Damn you!
No! No, wait. Stop. I didn’t mean that. I take it
back. I don’t want you damned. At bottom, you’re as
good a man in your way as there has ever been. A
wonderful provider. A wonderful lover. A wonderful
companion. And a very stubborn man. The word “no” is
not in your lexicon. Does not compute. You bought a
dog. Twice a week, you knocked on my door with some
canine issue. I said, no, go away. Then the gifts
started coming. Gift after gift after gift. I said
no, no, no. Take them away. Then you camped on my
doorstep. I said, go away. But I had to let you in or
you would have caught pneumonia out there. The gifts
kept coming. I kept saying no, but you broke me.
You’re a big attorney. You know how to break people.

HENRY:
I want you on my team, Bright Eyes. We’ll be world
class.

MADELINE:
World class. You like that term.

HENRY:
So tell me. What’s it gonna take to add you to the
Henry Slezak roster?
(He hands her a pen and a pad)
Here, go ahead. You write a number. Then I’ll write
a number. Then we’ll compare, see if we’re in the
ballpark.

MADELINE:
Ballpark. Another favorite Henry Slezak term. Then
you divorced your wife.
 A TEAM PLAYER 9

HENRY:
(Holds up a thick legal document)
Look, Bright Eyes. The settlement agreement. I cut
Candace from the squad. She’s a free agent now.
(Turns to the last page)
See that number? That’s what it cost to buy out her
contract. You wanna know something? I would have
paid ten times that amount because.

MADELINE:
Because you were resolved to clarify your life, bring
the essential things into sharp focus. You said you
were intent on clearing out.

HENRY:
Clearing out the clutter. Clearing out the chaos. I
need to revive. Renew. Refresh. Rejuvenate. You’re
worth the investment, Bright Eyes, because you.

MADELINE:
Because I represent simplicity. Your word, Henry.
You were so sure you had me caught in your web. So
sure of yourself. So sure of your purpose. And you
were right. Who could resist you?

HENRY:
(Takes folded sheet of paper from pocket.
Unfolds it. Hands it to her)
The prenuptual agreement. Hereinafter called, “The
Agreement.” Everyone’s using them these days. And
they’re a good thing. Think of it like a contract to
play for a team. Defines your relationship to the
team. Outlines your.

MADELINE:
Outlines my duties and responsibilities as a member of
the team. Specifies the rules and guidelines of the
game.

HENRY:
The ump doesn’t say work ball. He says play ball. K.
I. S. S. Keep it simple. You got a question, go to
the Agreement. Read the guidelines. Read the rules.
It keeps things simple. Lets you focus on the game.

MADELINE:
I must admit, I like rules.
 A TEAM PLAYER 10

HENRY:
Rules are what separate us from the animals.

MADELINE:
Break the rules, suffer the consequences.

HENRY:
Do the crime. Do the time.

MADELINE:
Should Pete Rose be inducted into the Hall?
Absolutely not! He broke the rules!

HENRY:
Exactly!

MADELINE:
(Reads)
“The parties to this marriage have discussed their
future plans and desires relating to having/adopting
children. Both parties hereby acknowledge they shall
not have/adopt children once married. This provision
is based upon an analysis of the parties’ present and
anticipated family structure, financial situation and
the lifestyle the parties anticipate having.”
(He gives her a pen. She signs)
Of course I signed. And the next fifteen years were
absolute heaven. Trips to Southeast Asia, East
Africa, Peru, the Galapagos Islands, Sweden,
Antarctica. Receptions at the White House with
President Reagan and President Bush. My Henry, the
big VIP, the donor, the political fundraiser. A man
to be stroked and treated with respect. I on his arm,
tall and thin and bright-eyed, basking in his glory.
I could feel heads turning. Could you feel them,
Henry? But time passes. That’s what time does.
You’re not forty-one anymore. Three strokes in three
years. 1999. 2000. 2001. Ding dong. Ding dong.
Ding dong. Like a giant tolling bell. You’re dead,
Henry. The cupboard is bare. I feel empty, drained,
sucked dry. Somewhere it says you’re immortal through
your daughters and your sons, but Maddie doesn’t even
have a dog. Because you’re allergic to dander, Henry.
I pretended the boy next door was mine. I celebrated
his birthdays, his graduations, his Bar Mitsvah. I
watched him grow. When he graduated from the Police
 A TEAM PLAYER 11

MADELINE(Cont):
Academy, I almost choked. I almost lost it. I almost
said, “I’m so proud of you, son.”
(Beat)
So it’s down to you and me, Henry. No regrets except
it was much too short a season. But we’ve made a heck
of a team, haven’t we? Winners. You know what they
say about winners. You don’t break up a winning team.
Look what happened to the Sox after they sold Babe
Ruth. But damn you, Henry Slezak! Damn you!

COP:
Damn, you should see it! Town’s filling up. Hotels
packed. Funeral’s at one. Henry was a mover, lots of
bigwigs and high mucky-mucks paying their respects.
People from the Reagan and first Bush administrations.
And because of how he died, the media is here. The
whole Department’s on overtime. I hadn’t seen
Madeline for over a year. My job took up all my time.
Even so, every now and then I’d get a snippet of
information about her. People said after Henry’s first
stroke she pretty much kept indoors. She insisted on
taking care of him personally. But, at the end, I saw
that same attention to detail she used to apply to my
batting stance. She was meticulous. Every bill paid
off in full. The insurance policies laid out on the
dining room table covered with post-it notes. A
handwritten note directing that Romans chapter five
and “A Mighty Fortress” be included in the funeral
ceremony. Madeline’s people were Lutherans.
(Lights up on a small table on which there’s
a package. COP goes to package, opens it.
takes out letter, scans letter as he says
the following)
Then a FedEx to me from an attorney firm. Inside, a
short letter noticing me of two trust funds, each
amounting to $10,000.00, set up for any children I may
have. At the bottom of the letter, in Madeline’s
familiar script, the following: “Remember, Benjamin,
you are immortal through your daughters and your
sons.”
(Long pause)
Well damn. Damn it all.

(Blackout)

The End