As we get into Ovechkin’s Mercedes, he says to me, “Sit in back.” Then he fires up his 700 HP AMG and peels out. I lean forward and ask if he has acquired any American ways. “No! No! No!” he says. “I am Rooshian. I stay Rooshian all my life.” Then he cranks up eastern European techno that drowns out any more questions.
(Ovechkin’s agent Konstantin) Selinevich is 38 but looks much younger, a slight man with a short, spiky hairdo. He tells me he has been in America for 11 years. When I ask what he’s been doing, he says, “Selling drugs and banging girls. I bring Russian girls to whorehouses in States.” Then he laughs.
Driving through Baltimore, (Ovechkin) takes a pinch of tobacco and puts it inside his cheek. He comes up on the bumper of a Saab approaching a green light. The light turns yellow, and the Saab stops. Ovechkin screams out, “Go through !@#$ing light! See what I mean? In Russia, yellow light means ‘!@#$ it.’