White: Hello? Hello?
Suddenly the lights come on and James Dolan is standing at center court.
Dolan: Welcome, gentlemen.
May: Uh, hi. Hey, uh, is Ray here?
Dolan: Nope. Couldn't make it.
Brown: Where's Glen and coach Woodson?
Dolan: Nope. Today, I'm running this show. And don't think that your pal Baron Davis is going to bail you out?
Brown: Bail... me .. out?
Dolan: Mr. White, I appreciate you putting on your basketball garb. But it won't be necessary. I've picked out an outfit for you (points to a white tuxedo hanging on a rolling cart.)
White: What? You want me to play basketball in that?
Dolan: Who said anything about basketball? (clicks a remote and a spotlight shines on a DJ setup courtside) Your name is D.J. is it not?
White: Is this a joke?
Dolan: IT'S NO JOKE! I'VE GOT TRAINED SNIPERS AIMING GUNS AT YOU FROM THOSE HOLES ON THE SIGNATURE MSG ROOF!
White: Holy shit! OK, man, stay cool, I'll do it! (Hurriedly dons white tux, as his face sours in recognition that the color is based on his name)
Dolan: OK! Now, Bobby, do that thing you do.
Brown: OK. Where are the basketballs?
Dolan: Jesus, you people with your props! I think there's one over there under the chair there. Now, MR. WHITE! Put on a record!
White: Uh, there's only Bobby Brown records here. And one Whitney Houston.
Dolan: Don't put on the Houston! That's only there to placate Allan. He sure does love his sister.
White: Uh, OK. (puts on Bobby Brown record)
Dolan: Whoo, yeah! Now do your thing Bobby. DO IT!
(Brown nervously dribbles the basketball while Dolan dances to "My Prerogative". After the song is over, he stops)
Dolan: OK, guys, that was great. Let's do one more.
Brown: Yo, JD, what about him?
Brown: him, Sean May. Why doesn't he have to do anything humiliating?
Dolan: Because he's the only one that actually "MAY" make the team. Get it? "May?" Hahahahahheeeeohoohohhohhhhooo".
(suddenly, Glen Grunwald, Mike Woodson and Jim Todd descend on ropes from the skybridge. Grunwald and Woodson hold Dolan's arms while Jim Todd puts a sack over Dolan's head, ties it, and administers a shot.);
Glen: Whew. I knew I shouldn't have gone on vacation. Sorry about that, guys. Went off his medication. So, what's it going to take for you guys to not mention this to the press, ever?
May: I don't know, gift card to Cheesecake Factory?
Glen: You got it. Bobby?
Brown: Partially guaranteed contract?
(Glen looks over at Woodson, who responds with an exasperated shrug)
Glen: Ok, stop by my office. D.J.?
Woodson: We're out of roster spots, Glen.
White: That's OK. Can I keep the suit?
White: And the records?
Todd: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!
Glen: We don't have a choice, Jim. Keep the records, D.J..