Thomas J. McFeeley Communications

Proving he was not only the heart and soul of his beloved Yankees, but also Derek Jeter’s Sugar Daddy, George M. Steinbrenner was laid to rest today and, in the process, bankrupted his beloved franchise. Steinbrenner secretly cashed in all his wealth and buried it with him following closed casket services.

The first sign came hours after the baseball All-Star Game, when Jeter attempted to pay a $5,000 tab at “Ana Hyman’s” a popular Southern California strip club. Jeter’s debit card, in the name “Roger Clemens” was not accepted. Jeter first blamed the problem on technology because, well he’s Derek Jeter. But when his assistant’s assistant phoned the 24-hour customer service line, she was informed that his bi-weekly funds were not deposited on Monday morning.

Jeter escaped harm when, after a team of bouncers threatened to “mess up his pretty little east coast face,” their supervisor turned out to be Danny Tartabull, a former Yankees “can’t miss prospect” who turned out to just be another $20 million mistake by the visionary Steinbrenner. Jeter promised Tartabull a couple of his “West Coast Groupies” who turned out to be Sharon Stone and Dana Delaney.

Sources confirmed that Steinbrenner’s family learned of the ploy early on Wednesday at the reading of The Boss’s will.

“I have decided to take all the money because I AM the Yankees, and I didn’t want any of you to forget it,” the will read, in part. “Hank and Hal, I don’t want you to think I left you with nothing. You are each entitled to one of my boats which I have renamed ‘Inferiority Complex’ and ‘Boss’s Bitch.’  You guys can argue over which one you each get, but you have to get gas, and they are in a bit of what we call in the trade: disrepair. Good luck.”

Those same sources said Steinbrenner may have timed his death for the morning of the All-Star Game because, well, he wanted the spotlight to himself.

“Heart attack my ass,” said one source, who declined to identify himself, but his name rhymes with Stank Heinbrenner. “That old bastard always had to have the last word. Hey, can I borrow five dollars?”

Steinbrenner reportedly left enough money to pay for longtime Yankees PA announcer Bob Sheppard’s funeral because, well just when you think he’s a total ass, he does something completely generous so you might reconsider his legacy.

Reaction to the suddenly penniless Yankees ranged far and wide. Andy Pettitte, the gentile southern left-hander considered the conscience of the team, was designated the spokesman for the players.

“He’s really dead? We confirmed that,” Pettitte said. “Okay then. George Steinbrenner was a complete asshole. And a whole ass. Sure we said good things about him at last night’s game, but that’s before we got screwed by a fat Jewish corpse. I knew I should have stayed in Texas and roided up with Clemens. Sure it’s cheating but the tail I got when juiced up was worth the constellation of zits on my back. Besides I hired some dumb college girl to pop those.”

Joe Buck, the Fox broadcaster who lauded Steinbrenner’s innovation and character throughout the All-Star game, also commented through a spokesperson.

“I fuckin’ knew it. Daddy always told me not to trust nobody who never milked a cow,  but Daddy also told me I was talented, so who knows where his mind was at,” the spokesperson said. Buck was unavailable after suffering a stroke from saying so many glowing and positive things about someone associated with the Yankees during the All-Star telecast.  “Is it football season yet? Troy, is that you? Will you hold my hand honey?”

Buck’s partner Tim McCarver was asked for comment but repeated the same stories he’s told on baseball broadcasts since 1985.

“Hell, he fired me once and I’m Tim fucking McCarver,” he managed to say between homespun stories. “And he gave Bobby Mercer cancer. I’m just sayin’. Speaking of Mercer, did I ever tell you the story of when we burned a cross on Bob Gibson’s lawn…..God, I miss him.”

In a late development, Yankees General Manager Brian “Lack of” Cashman completed a deal that sent Jeter, Pettitte, Mariano Rivera and Mark Teixeira to the Pittsburgh Pirates for $10 million, a bucket of balls and the team trainer.

“Hey, I need to make at least one payroll before I skip town,” he said. “And I don’t know if you’ve seen our trainer….He’s not exactly buying green bananas if you know what I mean.”

New York Jets Head Coach Rex Ryan, fresh off some sort of rubber-band-around-the-stomach “weight loss” procedure, today announced in anticipation of his new body type, he has chosen a new personality to match.

“I might have flipped off some jackass Dolphins fans in South Beach, but I’m known as the Jolly Fat Guy in NFL circles. And you better believe, I am fuckin jolly. But if I’m not going to be the size of an abandoned Detroit warehouse, I need a new schtick,” he said.

That schtick, he said, would be the hyper, head-spinning guy who sleeps about 90 minutes a day.

“I won’t actually ingest cocaine,” he said with a wink only Santa Claus could replicate. “But you’ll sure as shit think I did. They don’t test coaches for that shit, do they? No, for real. They don’t test, right?”

In order to be ready for the upcoming season in mid-September, Ryan has been studying film of other hyper coaches and their mannerisms.

“Goddamn that Jon Gruden was a funny little fuck,” Ryan said. “I used to shit turds bigger than that guy, but what Chucky could do with his face was goddamn epic. You guys really should study the films. You’ll pee your pants.”

Asked why he felt the need to change his personality type, Ryan explained his “funny fat guy” routine was perfect for Jets fans who appreciate a foul-mouthed blue collar approach.

“See when you look like the swallowed the bag of footballs, you can shoot your mouth off and be generally foul,” he said. “But a skinny guy – he can’t be so aloof and display such jackassery. Us skinny guys need to be like intense and in your face and generally a little shifty. Plus the coca – the impression of cocaine use – will help me pace a lot and lose weight naturally.”

As a hyper skinny guy, Ryan said, he would also become a fan of REM, a “Lost” devotee, and would “Tweet a lot.”

Tiger Woods, in effort to promote good behavior and calluses, has partnered with actor Kevin James to promote the safest form of sex during his first tournament back to golf.

“We call it Masters-bating,” Tiger said, trying to suppress the smile people described as “winning” before it was discovered he put his putter in every tin cup within a five-mile radius of a golf course. The promotion will be humped during The Masters golf tournament in April. Woods is to make his return to the PGA during The Masters because, as one official described it “Tiger skipping the Masters is like Mickelson missing the dinner bell – just not gonna happen.”

“Practice your stroke through Masters-bating,” said a giggly Kevin James. “Get it?”

As part of the promotion, golf fans can text the word “IMPULSE” to “GETINTHEHOLE” – they will receive Tiger’s cell phone pics of the ‘trophies’ he collected on the tour just before he kissed them. Tiger has also partnered with the Office Max franchise team that created the “Elf Yourself” promotion to allow horny white guys to, “Tiger Size” themselves.

“Elf Yourself,” said a giggly Kevin James. “That shit is still funny.”

Clearing his throat (of god knows what) Tiger elaborated.

“You see, guys want two things: big schlongs and hot skanky women,” Tiger said. “And we figure, if we give them my enormous driver and the dream of scoring a Tiger-level skank, we will encourage wildly popular Masters-bation around the country. And God knows that’s better than getting with the wrong girl, ruining a marriage, breaking up a family, or creating unwanted babies who won’t grow up being nearly as talented as Tiger Woods.”

“So to the male golf fans around the country, we say text IMPULSE to GETINTHEHOLE and take out the big dog and show us your stroke,” said a giggling Kevin James, who added that he was involved in the promotion because ‘nobody has pet the little Tiger as much as me’ and that it was time to become semi-relevant again. “Nobody ever bought that I could be bangin’ Leah Remini anyway. And the only place ‘The King of Queens’ plays well is in the gay bars. It was time for a rebranding.”