Of course he has a Starbucks alias. He’s Derek fucking Jeter. If he wants to be known as Philip when he goes to Starbucks, he can do it. He can go by Henry when he makes a reservation at a restaurant or fucking Geoffrey with a G when he’s checking into a hotel. He’s got 5 rings on his hand. I went to a strip club this weekend and my name was Steve, because in that situation everyone wants a piece of you. Strippers love Steve’s. For Jeter the whole world is a strip club and every girl just wants to give him a private dance. Only difference is instead of $20 a song they’re looking for $250k a month for the next 18 years.
I guess the moral of the story here is that even baseball immortals get sick of being the King of New York, slaying pussy everywhere from Manhattan to your mansion in Florida. You just wanna be an average Joe. Or in this case Philip. Doesn’t matter than everyone in the store can plainly see he’s The Captain. Just a man of the people, really. Philip Jeter orders his Venti Mocha Latte from Starbucks just like us. Then he goes back to his penthouse and plows perfect 10s.