Ballers

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Mr. Strasmore?

Welcome back. The doctor will see you now.

Let's do it.

So, Doc, you're new.

I don't remember seeing you last time I was here.

I'm one of the center's board members, actually.

- 12 years. - Ah. That's impressive.

Still, don't you think I should see Dr. Grodan,

considering he was the one who... who suggested

I take all these tests in the first place?

Dr. Grodan and his wife are on safari.

Good timing.

'Kay, uh, this can wait. Doc, this should wait.

- I think it's best if I see... - I'm the in-house specialist

on neurological disorders.

I've treated hundreds of athletes with brain injuries.

Waiting won't change your results.

'Cause it's bad.

I knew it. It's fucking football.

I mean, you tell somebody to put a helmet on

and run headfirst into another speeding object just like that

and of course this is what you... who does that for a living, let alone for fun?

It's fucking insanity. The whole thing is insane.

You're fine, Mr. Strasmore.

- What do you mean? - No swelling.

No new blood, no old blood, ventricles look healthy.

You have the normal, healthy brain of a 39-year-old man.

So I pass?

Well, there's nothing wrong with you neurologically,

but judging on the symptoms in your file,

the problem is more likely psychological.

Oh, so I pass.

It's not really a pass/fail situation.

Thank you so much, Doc. Get in here.

I mean, it doesn't change the fact that you're still...

Shh.

Just let me enjoy this moment.

Big V, what's up?

I'm stressed, Spence.

Feels like somebody outside watchin' me.

Nobody's watching you, Vernon.

Could've swore I saw a dude in my yard last night.

You didn't see a dude in your hard. It's all in your mind, brother.

You get the pictures back from Mr. Gomez yet?

They should be arriving today.

So you don't know for sure.

Look, we held up our end,

she's gonna hold up her end.

I should be workin' out, Spence,

instead of being locked up in my crib.

Vernon, you are the hardest-working player in the league.

Enjoy a couple of days off.

Lay low. We're gonna have you packed for Dallas

with a brand-new contract in no time.

You awful cheerful today. It's buggin' me out.

Trust me, stressing and worrying about this shit

ain't gonna change a thing, okay?

So put your mind at ease,

and I'm gonna call you when the coast is clear.

All right, Spence.

ScarJo, Rihanna,

Lupita Nyong'o from "12 Years A Slave,"

- Nia Long. - Nia Long?

Oh, from "Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" Nia Long?

- Yeah. - Oh, man, that's throwback.

Well, there's no restrictions on a hit list.

That's the beauty of the game.

All right, well, who rounds out your top five?

Hmm. It's gotta be Michelle.

The... the first lady?

Power, beauty, style, intelligence, and those arms.

Oh, my G... all very seductive qualities.

Man, you are fucked up.

- I'm fucked up? - Yeah, you're fucked up.

- I'm fucked up? - Extremely.

You're the one making gift baskets

to hush up some girls that you brought home from the club.

- It always worked for Jeter. - You ain't Derek Jeter.

You ain't even Derek Fisher.

Those motherfuckers got rings and class.

What, you sayin' I ain't got class?

You got caught pounding ass in a public restroom.

That's some A-Rod shit.

Man, why you always bringing up old stuff, huh?

Kicking a brother while he's down?

Look, you wanna win Bella back,

you're gonna have to change up your whole act.

Do something bold.

I feel you, T.

And, honestly, I'm tired of the lies.

I'm tired of the cheating.

All these gift baskets, a funhouse.

All this crazy shit I get myself into.

You know, it's time I step up.

It's time I start acting like a man.

It's time to take your ass to Bulgari.

Boating, booze and boobs... the holy trinity of fun.

Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!

Wow.

- Ahem. - Fuckin' Photoshop.

Leave the room.

- What? - You heard me.

- Mr. Anderson... - You think this is funny.

Why don't you go back to your office

and have a nice big fucking laugh?

- I was only... - Better yet, take the rest of the day off.

Go play some tennis, work on your suntan.

Maybe tomorrow we'll see you here.

Would you mind getting the door, please?

This is the way you handle yourself at business functions?

What can I say? I enjoy dancing at weddings and bar mitzvahs

and... corporate events.

It's a fucking fraternity party.

Mr. Anderson, these guys play a very dangerous game

for your entertainment every Sunday.

When they get a shot to let loose, they go big.

Plus, we hooked four big clients because of this party.

I don't care.

If it gets out that Anderson Financial

is sponsoring drug-fueled orgies on my yacht,

institutional clients will jump ship.

It says in the email that you gave this girl

150 grand?

Yeah, paid in full.

May I ask why didn't you deliver it in person like she asked?

- Well, because she's fucking crazy. - Ah.

She has been trying to shake down Vernon Littlefield.

Now she's trying to shake down me.

Trash like this is why I didn't want you here in the first place.

- Joe mentioned that. - Joe is a fucking idiot.

No, Joe's not a fucking idiot.

Joe hired me to bring in big money players,

protect the wealth,

and capitalize on the success of men in a world that,

with all due respect, Mr. Anderson, you don't know anything about

with the exception of when you watch the Red Zone Channel

on your very big fuckin' flat screen.

Monetize my friendships is what Joe's been preaching to me

from the moment I walked in the door,

and I always thought that that came directly from you.

Everything does except the bad shit.

And this is bad shit.

This is the price you pay when you want to do business in my world.

Well, I'm not sure that I want to pay it.

I don't need this office, Spencer.

Just an excuse to get away from my fucking wife a few days every month.

So if you don't go and see this girl in person

and get those pictures back,

I'm gonna shut the whole operation down.

Did I say this before?

I didn't want you here in the first place.

- Fuck Anderson. - Fuck Angie.

Fuck his fucking yacht

and fuck his fucking company!

Fuck her fucking pictures. Fuck her fucking emails.

10 years, man... I've been fucking grinding away

for this arrogant douchebag and he treats us like that?

We could fucking bury him.

We could, we could, but we won't go there.

Things are fucked-up enough as it is.

I'm... I'm fucked!

We're fucked. We are fucked.

Why didn't you just meet with Angie?

I'm calling her now.

It's already over, man.

Vernon's new contract's off the table.

Anderson's not gonna trust us again.

We should bounce.

Start our own fucking shop.

I'm fucking over this shit.

Hi, you've reached Angela.

I'm either busy or avoiding you.

You be the judge.

Dolphins tackle Nick Kovac will undergo surgery today

to stabilize the vertebrae in his back.

Kovac slipped and fell off his deck

while chasing his Pomeranian.

The Dolphins will look to replace the two-time Pro Bowler

before the start of training camp.

- Well, who does? - Bob does.

- What about the spares? - Those were the spares.

Dipshit number 2 lost the originals when he parked the truck.

What's the problem, guys? We got customers waiting.

Look, I gotta get this model off the floor,

the new one on display, and these two knobs lost the keys.

- All right, well, let's push it. - That thing weighs two tons.

- It'll be easy, come on. - Then move it yourself, big man.