A Day In The Life: Derek Jeter

The New York Yankees failed to make the postseason for the first time since 1993, which also means that this is the first year in which Derek Jeter will not be playing in October.

Kornheiser's Cartel recently spent a day with the Yankees' shortstop, and we were able to record his routine.

8:00 AM - Wake up after a good night's sleep. Roll over. Shit... Mariah. I've had all of the pressure of not making the playoffs and the closing of the Stadium placed on my exquisitely cut shoulders being the captain and all. I don't know how Varitek was able to handle sitting at home 4 different seasons, but he does have a beard and a "C" on his jersey to get him through the tough times.

8:05 AM - Flip on my XM radio, chug a Gatorade, and head to the bathroom. After a quick shave using my Gillette Fusion, I hop in the ol' shower. When I'm done I throw on my Nike gear and slip on my Jumpman shoes.

8:30 AM - Breakfast Time! Even though I keep trying to tell myself that everything's alright, I can't help but feel a little blue. So, to cheer myself up I think I'll eat Wheaties from my private stash of Yankees World Series Champions boxes. '98 looks good, after all we were the greatest team to ever play baseball (suck on that Varitek). ARod wasn't on the Yanks in '98 as I recall.

9:15 AM - Flip on the tube and watch some SportsCenter. A video montage of great playoff performances? Wow, I was in over half those shots...totally need to fire my agent because I haven't seen a dime from ESPN.

9:30 AM - Phone Call. Bud Selig. Yawn. He wants to make sure that even though I'm not playing right now, I'll still make an appearance in Tampa or something. I tell him sure thing, after all I am the face of the entire league. Plus I know a few Buccaneers cheerleaders.

9:45 AM - Plop down on the couch and bust out my cell phone. I usually play about 2 hours of Derek Jeter Pro Baseball 2008 every morning. Since they named it after me, I get special cheat codes that allow me to unlock historical players. I put my boy Brosius in at 3rd and Bernie back in center. Believe me, they're improvements on the current players.

12:00 PM - Lunch downtown at Masa with The Boss. Seriously, that's what he makes even me call him. Not Mr. Steinbrenner. Not Your Excellency. Not even Papa Georgie (that's what Cashman always calls him).

He starts off by saying that he doesn't blame me at all for our failure to make the playoffs. In fact I'm pretty much the only guy he doesn't blame. He tells me he's fired half of our scouts, sold the Trenton Thunder to some Japanese investment firm, and that the guy who sells hot dogs in Section 126 better watch his back. For some reason he is super pissed at Alex too. I tell him nobody was to blame. Except Alex.

After going over what I want my plaque in Monument Park to read, The Boss says he has to use the restroom.

35 minutes later - Obviously The Boss isn't coming back. He always sticks me with the check. Yogi warned me, but nobody ever listens to that old crackpot. He's such a sellout too. The way he turned his old phrases into an Aflac commercial, not cool. I pay with my Visa card and hop in my Ford.

5:00 PM - I'm a guest on a radio talk show. This show doesn't even begin to compare to the stellar analysis and up-to-the-minute score alerts that can be found on XM radio. But my PR guy says it's good for me to mingle with the people. They ask me my thoughts on offseason moves and I mention that we should look at signing Teixeira and converting him to 3B. The hosts seem perplexed, but I tell them that Posada will likely be moved to 1st, so we don't need anybody at 1B. They still argue that we're set at 3rd as well, but I've tuned them out by now. I plug a charity or two and then I'm gone.

7:30 PM - Dinner with Pettitte, Mariano, and Posada. We reminisce about the good old days and none of us can figure out how Jorge's former backup has become our skipper. We all text Torre saying we miss him and he responds with a huggie bear emoticon. He's so adorable.

9:45 PM - Pettitte knows of a sick party going on, so we all head out, like in Swingers. I'm obviously the Vince Vaughn of the group, since these other guys are super lame and have wives they have to get back to.

11:30 PM - As I'm leaving the party the valet starts riding my ass for not leading the Bombers to another World Series. I run my hand (with those 4 large rings) through my hair, tell him it'll be alright, and help Miss New Jersey into my car. I don't think I'll have as restful a night tonight.