http://m.vanityfair.com/business/2013/02/memoirs-teddy-forstmann-billionaire-ghostwriters
In the spirit of E True Hollywood Stories - one of my favorite shows - learning how the rich get rich and how they live.
" One afternoon we drove to Roland Garros for the French Open, the reason Teddy was in Paris. As president of IMG, whose clients included Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer, he belonged at the tournament. IMG had a box at center court, four seats five or six rows up from the clay, amid the families of players. Teddy was out there every day, cooking in the sun. People stopped by to chat. Teddy would stand and smile. He'd been at the helm of IMG for several years and loved it. Not only was it the greatest sports agency in the world, it also represented top fashion models. When Teddy acquired the agency, some reporters depicted it as a lark: here's an aging LBO king seeking to spend his golden years immersed in his two great loves, athletes and models.
This infuriated Teddy. They think this is fun! They think this is a party, a walk in the park? Horseshit! This company was underperforming when I acquired it, and I took it over for the same reason I've acquired every company: hidden value! I saw something the others missed. You do not buy a $750 million company because you like pretty girls and want to sit at center court!
Meanwhile, we were at center court, in the wind, the sky a flawless early-summer blue, like the sky in a dream. Colorful pennants waved on the rim of the jewel box.
Between sets, a girl lingered near our seats. She was long and lovely and dark, with hair that went halfway down her back and the sort of heart-shaped French face that the existentialists could never properly explain. Teddy leaned over, whispered in my ear: "Do you see that girl?"
"Yeah, yeah, I see her."
"I mean, a girl like that, in Paris … "
"Yeah, I know."
"What do you think if I went over and just told her, Hey, my name is Forstmann, and I happen to own the biggest modeling agency in the world?"
"I don't know."
"Or if I sent a note. Maybe you. Would you bring a note over, then point me out to her?"
"The note thing, I'm not sure."
"Yeah, yeah, you're right. Stupid idea." "
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