Jerry Maguire Page #11

Arizona General Manager DENNIS WILBURN, 48, is on the phone

here in the command center for the Arizona Cardinals. All

around him, we see the boards and graphs for their upcoming

draft selections.

WILBURN:

Good, I hope he unloads him so I

can buy a decent quarterback.

Who's he talking to?

PATRICIA:

Right now, Dallas. Ha ha.

WILBURN:

They don't look interested do they?

PATRICIA:

Actually...

Wilburn looks concerned.

INT. MARRIOTT ESCALATOR -- NIGHT

Jerry and Tidwell rise triumphantly to the mezzanine level

above the bright-white lobby. Maguire looks down at the

scene. He breathes in the commotion. In another twelve

hours, he will be at the very epicenter with Cushman.

_

57.

TIDWELL:

I came all the way here for that?

To walk the lobby?

JERRY:

Yeah. And it might have even

worked too.

TIDWELL:

Let's do it again.

Jerry doesn't respond. Down in the lobby, Jerry catches a

glimpse of a familiar-looking agent. It's Sugar. Jerry is

consumed with a thousand other thoughts, but Tidwell

continues talking.

TIDWELL:

(continuing)

You believe they're shooting a

Nike ad down there? Did I ever

tell you my Nike story?

JERRY:

I gotta get back to Cushman.

TIDWELL:

Okay, I understand. I'll boil it

down for ya. F*** Nike. All they

do is ignore me...

Jerry turns to Tidwell, finally focusing totally on him.

JERRY:

You know what was great about you

down there? For about five

minutes, you unloaded that rather

expansive, let me just say "large"

chip that resides right there on

your shoulder, and you know what?

You were brilliant. Take care.

Jerry starts to exit.

TIDWELL:

You're loving me now, aren't ya?

JERRY:

(mock serious)

I'm not about love -- I'm about

"showing you the money."

Tidwell nods deeply, respectfully.

_

58.

TIDWELL:

Good. I was just testing ya.

(beat)

But just you saying that? Makes me

love ya.

JERRY:

Get some sleep. See you tomorrow.

TIDWELL:

Sure you don't want to go out and

find some karoake? I'm a very

good singer, man --

JERRY:

Call me tomorrow.

TIDWELL:

I might call you later!

Tidwell moves off, still feeling good about the walk. A

small pack of diehard Jets fans pass, looking for autographs.

INT. CUSH'S SUITE -- NIGHT

We glide into Frank Cushman's suite overlooking Times Square.

It's filled with NFL swag -- free t-shirts, athletic bags,

sweatpants, and more. Half-finished room service food

abounds. Matt, Keith and Cush's stylish college girlfriend

ANNE-LOUISE mill about the room, basking in the glow of the

man of the moment. Cush, who holds a guitar in his lap,

wears the odd combination of a Nirvana t-shirt and a NFL

jacket. He signs for more room service and continues

strumming the only song he knows on guitar, Cobain's

"Something In The Way." Jerry enters on a rush of adrenalin.

CUSH:

(to hotel waiter)

Hey, what size are you?

WAITER:

Eleven.

CUSH:

(grandly)

Why don't you grab a couple pairs

of them new Nikes by the door --

Waiter spots a very tall stack of new Nikes by the door.

WAITER:

Dude, you're like a God.

_

59.

CUSH:

(immediately)

God, you're like a dude.

It's a great line, and the room breaks up. This is charisma,

the future of the NFL. Waiter exits, as Cush continues

strumming. And now Jerry speaks, importantly.

JERRY:

Cush, Matt -- we have a decision

to make.

CUSH:

"It's okay to eat fish, 'cause

they Don't have any feelings...

JERRY:

Okay. San Diego just came in with

a last-minute scenario. It's big.

CUSH:

"Something in the way. Yeah."

MATT:

Well, he's gotta go number one.

CUSH:

"Ooooooo."

JERRY:

He still goes number one, but San

Diego wants to trade up with New

England -- they want him bad.

Cush turns to his curiously ambivalent father, who walks to

the window and looks out at the big Jumbotron with Keith.

MATT:

What happened to Denver?

JERRY:

Denver got very silent about a day

ago. San Diego's got a fever for

Cush. This stuff tends to happen

the night before a draft. People

get crazy. And San Diego, you

should know, is crazy to the tune

of seven years for thirty. Signing

bonus of eight.

(beat)

Million.

Anne-Louise whistles loudly. She is instantly embarrassed,

and puts a hand up. Sorry. In the next room, the phone is

ringing.

_

60.

MATT:

I don't know, Jerry.

KEITH:

Should I unplug the phone?

CUSH:

Reporters, Jerry. They been

callin' all night.

JERRY:

Just be friendly and say "no

comment."

CUSH:

Talking and saying nothing, man,

it's an art I have not mastered.

Jerry holds up a finger -- watch me. Jerry picks up the

ringing phone. He offers a near-perfect imitation.

JERRY:

"This is Cush."

Suddenly, everyone is, laughing. The room lightens.

INT. BOB SUGAR'S HOTEL ROOM -- DAY

Bob Sugar talks on his hotel phone.

SUGAR:

It's Sugar. He must be there,

right? Just sniff or something if

he's there.

(Jerry sniffs,

panicked)

Alright, buddydude. Just

remember. You're swimming with the

big boys now. You let your dad do

all the talking. I'm the one who

got you the deal you needed. This

is business not friendship. Be

strong. You're global now.

Sugar hangs up.

JERRY:

"No comment.

Jerry hangs up. The room is still laughing. His head is

spinning.

KEITH:

Hey, it's Cush on the big t.v.

again!

_

61.

CUSH:

Hell, I'm already sick of me. I

got "Cushlash."

More laughs. Jerry sits across from Matt, reeling quietly. He

speaks casually, directly.

JERRY:

Look, before I go back to Denver.

I think we should put something

down on paper. Something that

says, "hey, I'm with Jerry

Maguire."

He pulls out a yellow legal tablet. He scribbles a few

lines, as Matt looks increasingly nervous.

MATT:

Not right now, Jerry.

JERRY:

Do I know everything there is to

know here?

(silent beat)

You fellas aren't talking with Bob

Sugar, are you?

More silence.

MATT:

Apparently, Denver wanted to deal

with him instead of you.

JERRY:

(quickly)

Said who? Sugar?

MATT:

Hey, I'm learning as I go.

JERRY:

So you empowered Bob Sugar to deal

with Denver behind my back?

MATT:

I'm sorry, I --

JERRY:

I brought Denver to twenty

million. Denver deals with me all

the time. You listened to Sugar?

You let that snake in the door.

Jerry touches the coffee table. Calms himself.

_

62.

JERRY:

(continuing)

It's okay. You want Denver. I'll

fix this up. You didn't sign

anything with Sugar, right?

Another rough silence is broken by little brother Keith.

KEITH:

(blurts)

Mr. Maguire, someday I'm gonna be

a famous athlete and I'm gonna

sign with you'.

JERRY:

Shut up!

(beat)

I'm sorry... sorry.

KEITH:

(sympathy for Jerry)

S' cool.

Shot moves in on Jerry.

JERRY:

Now. Wait. You didn't actually

sign with Sugar, did you? Tell me

you didn't sign.

(beat)

Because I'm still sort of moved by

your "my word is stronger'n oak"

thing --

MATT:

We signed an hour ago. You were

in the lobby with the black fella.

Jerry moans. Silently, he rises and begins to gather his

things. Cush hangs on to his guitar.

CUSH:

I'm sorry, Jerry.

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