All language subtitles for pequenas 2 ligas

¡Hey! ¡Programas! ¡Recuerdos!.

¡Vamos, vamos,vamos!.

¡Sigan!.

La tengo.

¿Quieres que Tobik lo termine
por ti, Gus?.

No, estoy bien.

Sólo necesito salir de esta entrada.

Y respirar un poquito.

Hey.

Hey nada.

Esa bola está etiquetada.

Se va, se va...

a ningún lado.

Espera sólo un minuto.

Déjame ver la pelota.

¿Qué?.

Me escuchaste.
Déjame verla.

¿Pelota congelada, Gus?.

¿De dónde vino eso?.

You shouldn't have
to resort to this.

Quiero decir,
¿dónde está tu orgullo?.

Sabes, maldición,
busqué arriba y abajo,

y yo...

Sabes que voy a tener que sacarte.

Oh, vamos, Mick.
estoy a 5 ponches de terminar.

Lo siento, Gus,
pero tienes que irte.

Te vas.

¡Estás fuera de aquí!.

Better not hold on
to that too long, Mick,

if it freezes, they'll have
to cut your fingers off,

to get rid
of the damn thing.

Someone get me
a bucket of water!

Get me some water now!

That arm numb yet,

or is it in that
tingly burning stage

just before
everything freezes?

Well...

look what
the cat drug in.

Don't pretend like you're
not surprised to see me.

Picked up a whiff
of your cologne

about a half
an hour ago.

Would you look
at these fancy duds?

Flatterer.

Bullshitterer.

How you doing?

Sorry I missed it.

How'd you throw?

Pretty good.

I moved the ball around
a lot.

Even blew a few fastballs
by 'em.

Hmm.

I'm ok to drive.
I know you are,

but you're too drunk
to walk to your car,

so this nice
taxi driver,

is gonna give you
a lift.

Strong and capable
woman.

You left out
independent.

Uh-oh.
You must be smitten.

Went past smitten
a long time ago.

For the first time
in my life,

the woman I love,
and the woman I like

happen to be
the same person.

That's a dangerous
combo.

And the kicker is...

she loves me...

but she's not desperate
for me.

Which could only mean...

you're desperate
for her.

You got it.

Yeah, well, six marriages
had to teach me something.

You ever think
about getting out?

As a matter of fact,
this is my last season.

I'm, uh,
hanging it up.

Oh, yeah?

What are you
gonna do?

I'm still kicking
a few ideas around.

Well,
it just so happens

that I've got
a proposition for you.

And I thought you
came all this way

'cause you missed
the sound of my voice.

Oh, there is that,
but...

Gus, I wanted
to ask you,

how would you like
to manage?

Manage?

I got a Triple-A team.
A heap of talent

and not a baseball player
in the bunch.

What I need,
what they need,

is a genuine
baseball man,

someone who really knows
the game.

I figure with all
you know about baseball,

and their natural ability,

it'd be a perfect match.

I--I don't know, Rog.

I mean, uh...

I spent the better part
of my life

kicking around
the minor leagues.

Hell, my ass
has gone flat

from sitting
on hard benches

and riding bad buses.

I ain't so sure I want
to sign up for more.

But this is something
that you know.

It's something you could
be really good at.

Who says I can't be good

at something
other than baseball?

No one.

Look, thanks.

Anyway, I--I...

come the end
of the season,

I'm quitting--
cold turkey.

Hey, I know how to take
no for an answer,

but maybe...

you could do me
one little favor.

If I can.

I'd like you to take a look
at Mr. "Downtown" Anderson.

He is a pure hitter.

Uh-huh.

You got the day off
tomorrow, right?

Why don't the three of us--
why don't we go down,

and we can watch
the kid play.

I'm in.

So it's either wrestle me
for the ball,

or let me stay in.

So he let you stay in?

Yeah. Two dogs and two cokes.

Oh, just ketchup
and mustard on mine.

Thanks.

Do my eyes deceive me?

Is that who I think
it is?

Slick guy,
overdressed,

helmet hair,
shit-eating grin?

here you go, sir.

Thank you.

You must have eyes
in the back of your head.

Leonard Huff.

Manager/bullshit artist
extraordinaire.

I know a broken down old
ballplayer when I see one.

No offense, of course.

Hey, Huff.

Gus.

Whoa-ho-ho.

And who is this
lovely little lady?

I'm Maggie Reynolds.

Maggie.

Ok, that's four bucks.

Thanks.
Oh, I'll get those.

I got it.
No, no. Save your money.

I got it right here.

Here we go.

Yes, sir.
Out of 10.

Oh, the change is yours,
my friend.

Whoa!
Thank you, sir.

So, Maggie, Maggie...

are you, uh,
you a baseball fan?

As a matter of fact,
I am.

Ah. Well...

I manage a team.

Minnesota Twins.

Maybe you've heard
of them.

The Minnesota Twins.

Maybe I've heard of them...

you asshole.

Coming down!

Yep. First class
all the way.

That's how we do it
on the big team.

If he says "big team"
one more time,

I'm gonna pinch his neck
until his head pops off.

All right. Here's the kid
I'm talking about.

Now coming to the plate,

number one,
Billy "Downtown" Anderson.

Number one in your heart,
number one in the program.

Play ball!

Downtown!

Batter, batter,
batter, swing!

You like this kid,
huh?

safe!

Super.

It is just super.

Oh, I was just telling
Mr. Downtown here

that he's gonna be with
the big team real soon.

No question about it.

The sooner the better
as far as I'm concerned.

What do you think,
Gus?

I think he's got
a real nice bat.

Well, they say that
I've got a pure swing,

that I'm a natural.

Yeah?

Soon as you get over
that lack of confidence,

the sky's the limit.

All right. Good game.

Why don't you get
in the shower?

I don't want my star player
catching a cold.

Wait a sec.

Gus Cantrell.

6'1",185 pounds.

Throws right,
bats right.

Yeah.

Yeah, I had triples
of your rookie card

when I was
in grade school.

Huh. You, uh,
you still got 'em?

No. I traded them all

for one player to be
named at a later date.

I'm kidding.

See ya.

Smart ass.

Well...

I gotta roll.

I gotta get back
to the...

back to the big team,
huh?

Exactly.

Oh.

Margaret.

Nice meeting you.

Mm.

Listen, you ever get tired
of the minor leagues,

you, uh,
give me a call.

Just kidding.

No, seriously. Kidding!

Ha ha. Kidding.

All right.

Let's go.

To the airport,
my friend.

Hey, listen, keep me posted
on that kid, will you?

Let's go.

Yep, move it.

Big tip for you.

Like a vulture
circling fresh meat.

Yep.

Well, he wants
Downtown.

He's not gonna wait.
Trust me on this.

He's gonna wanna bring him up
before he's ready.

You see, that's exactly
what I've been saying.

You know how to bring
a player along.

A need a manager
with that kind of touch,

that kind of instinct.

I want you to take
this kid to Triple-A.

I want you to teach him
how to hit.

It sounds like
a lot of work.

Hey, look, you try it
for a couple of weeks.

You don't like it,
no harm, no foul.

You quit.

I need to think
about it.

Gus...

I need a coach.

Let you know
in the morning?

You're on.

What if I hate it?

You quit.

He even gave you
an out.

Are you scared?

No.

Yeah.

You know, you can't let
fear of the unknown

keep you from moving off
the dime.

No, really.

I mean, what if...

what if
Christopher Columbus

had let fear
get in the way?

I'd be playing cricket?

You know
what I'm saying.

You really think I could
manage a baseball team?

I know you can.

And, uh, what about us?

Us will be here.

Us isn't gonna
go anywhere.

You must be
Gus Cantrell.

What gave me away?

Frank Morgan.
Everybody calls me Pops.

I'll grab these.

Oh, uh, thanks.
Come on. Jump in.

This is Mr. Buzz.

Hi. How you doing?

Nice to meet you.

We're about an hour
from game time,

so I brought
your uniform along.

We'll move Mr. Buzz's head
up here.

Excuse me.
Watch your, uh...

you must be
pretty excited, huh?

Oh, yeah.

This is the clubhouse.

In some parts
of the world,

this is called
a basement.

The good news
is it's cool in August.

Other times it can be
a little musty.

Dank?

That, too, but cool.

Here's your office.

Another prayer
unanswered.

Lance Pere.

This is Gus Cantrell,
our new skipper.

Welcome to our unique
little troop.

Thanks.

You aren't stuck
or anything, are you?

Naw.

It's yoga.

A limber mind leads
to a limber spine,

which leads
to a long life.

As we go,
so goes the world,

for we are the world,
the world is us.

I'll have
to jot that down.

You better unwind
and get dressed,

unless you're planning
on playing naked.

Oh. All right,
Pops.

Came to baseball

by way of the New York
City Ballet.

Ballet?

Went to an open tryout.

He's such
a natural athlete,

they signed him.

He used to be
a ballerina?

I don't think guys
are ballerinas.

Balladeer?

Don't balladeers sing?

Ah, I think
that's a troubadour.

That was me.
I was out of position.

Hog Ellis, this is our
new skipper Gus Cantrell.

Hey.

What's up?

Nice to meet you.

Hog, show the skipper
your fastball.

Got some velocity there.

Yeah.

You can bet
on the hummer, baby.

It's all good.

Well, don't let me, uh...

interrupt.

It's cool.

"Cool" is the only thing
he said I understood.

Hog ain't much
on communication.

Remind me not to sit
next to him on road trips.

Gus Cantrell.

Remember me?

Rube Baker.

My God,
what are you doing here?

I thought
you were with San Diego.

Oh, I was with
San Diego.

Old control problem came
creeping back to haunt me.

Trouble making
the throw to second?

Yeah. Second.

And, uh, first.

Third, a little.

And I st-still
have trouble

getting it back
to the pitcher.

Well, come on.
I don't believe that.

Just take a deep breath,
rear back,

and let it rip.

Okay.

Mom, they did it again!

See what I mean?
I just...

well, you're a little bit
off the mark,

but don't worry.
We'll get you straightened out.

Okay.

You want me
to go get that?

Nah, don't worry about it.
Just keep warming 'em up.

Good seeing you, Rube.

It was good
seeing you, Gus.

You got
any more balls?

Yes, sir,
I remember Gus Cantrell

from the old California
Double-A league.

That was before Diet Coke
became my beverage of choice.

Gus was a pretty fair
pitcher,

but he'll have to be
more than pretty fair

to turn this bunch

into anything that
resembles a baseball team.

They suck.

Perplexed?

Carlton Windgate,
pitcher.

Everyone, uh,
calls me Doc.

Gus Cantrell, manager.

Everybody calls me Gus.

Oh, I'm delighted
to make your acquaintance.

Yeah. Likewise.

So you have a question
regarding the scorecard

or...

Uh, well, yeah,
as a matter of fact.

There's seems to be
a mistake.

You got Juan Lopez
at second

and Juan Lopez at short.

Ah. That's no mistake.
Juan!

Hello, coach.

Buenos dias.

Brothers?

Twins.

With the same name?

Confounding, is it not?

"Confounding" seems to
be the word of the day.

Listen, uh, from now on,
you're gonna be Juan 1.

Sí.

And you're gonna be
Juan 2.

Sounds good,
coach.

Uh, excuse me, but, um,
by numbering them,

you risk stifling
their identities

and squelching
their self-esteem.

I don't wanna
be rude here, Doc,

but how would you
like to be Juan 3?

Batter up!

♪ Baby, baby, baby, baby
Baby ♪

♪ Baby, baby, baby, baby
Baby ♪

♪ Baby-baby, baby-baby ♪

Watch out!

Oh!

Oh!

All right, Rube!
Good try, Rube!

So a routine throw becomes
a 2-base throwing error.

Mr. Buzz almost got nailed
by that missile.

And we all might
be better off

had he got nailed.

All right, Lance!
Shake it off, buddy!

Shake it off!
Get the next one, bud!

Lance the dance had
a slippery one that time.

They don't call him
ol' stone hands for nothing.

I've seen better hands
on a clock.

Juan 1 has the ball,
still time to make the throw.

No, Juan 2 has the ball!
Hey, wait a second!

It's a brawl!

Oh, here we go again.

Come on, cut it out,
you guys!

The brothers Lopez
are going at it.

Juan 2 looks hurt.

No! Here he comes
fighting back!

He connects with a right!

Whoo! What a shot!

Stop it! Stop it!

You can't play ball,
man! I'll kill you!

You're ugly! You're ugly!

You!

You!

You're both
out of here!

So all Juan Lopezes concerned
get the heave-ho,

and right about now,

Gus Cantrell has gotta
be wondering

why he ever took this job.

You know, fans,
it's games like this

that used to get me
overmedicated.

Ha-ha-ha.

Just keep hitting them
up the middle, all right?

They'll catch on.

He got a bad jump
on that one.

Not only that--he ran
too long in the same spot.

Huh. Couldn't get
a reading.

I got that used from
the highway department.

It doesn't pick up
anything under 55.

Under 55?

How was that, coach?

It was good, Doc.

Excellent.
You want to see

my change-up before you go?
No, no. I'm good.

Super. All right,
we'll stay with the heater.

That-a-baby.

Lance Romance.

Coach?
Let me see your mitt.

Huh?

Try this
for a while.

Hey, I can't field
with this.

Well, I hate
to tell you,

but you ain't so hot
with a glove, either.

Yeah, but--

I want you to get used
to feeling the ball.

Loosen up those hands
a little bit.

Okay, coach.

Go ahead,
open it up.

It's a first baseman's
mitt.

Yeah, that's what the guy
at the sporting goods store

said it was.

I'm no first baseman.
I'm an outfielder.

Been an outfielder
all my life.

I know you're
an outfielder, pops.

I just think it might be
better for the team if we--

Hold on now.

I've been around
a long time.

You don't have
to give me

"the best thing
for the team" speech.

I'll take it straight.

You're too old,
you're too fat,

and you're too slow.

Straight enough?

Ah, that'll do it.

But I like your bat.

And I need a leader
on the field,

and I think
you're my man.

So, uh...

What do you say? You want
to give first base a shot?

Sure. I'm...

if you think that's best
for the team.

Thanks, Pops.

Yeah.

Okay, so, "pure hitter"--
now, what's that mean?

See, I got these naturally
quick hands, you know?

Nuh-uh.

Yeah, I got
a pretty good eye, too.

No, no, no.

Niçoise.

I told you.
We got ranch, Italian,

chunky blue cheese,
which is 50 cents extra.

Okay.

Do you have any
balsamic vinegar?

I got ranch, Italian,

chunky blue cheese.

Ok. You know what?

Forget the salad.

Bring me a gun, and
I'll just shoot myself, ok?

Pops,
I was wondering--

you, uh--you ever make it
to the show?

Came close once.

Yeah?

With the Red Sox
organization.

Mm-hmm.

It was in October.
A player got injured.

I got the call.

And I was on the plane
flying into Boston

when a freak
snowstorm hit.

We couldn't land.

Two days later,
weather's fine,

so is the player.

No way.

That was it?

Twenty years,
professional baseball,

I circled the show.
Couldn't land.

Windgate is what you'd call
a finesse pitcher--

moves the ball up and down,
in and out,

relies on control
and savvy.

They time this kid's fastball
with an hourglass.

He-he-he-he!

Oh.

Anderson.

Sacrifice him over.

Sacrifice?

Yeah. Bunt him over
into scoring position.

You're kidding me.

No, I'm not kidding.

Lay one down.

Hit one, Downtown!

Okay.

Come on, D.T.!

Anderson drives one
to left and deep.

Hey, get up,
get out of here, gone!

For Anderson...

and the Buzz
lead this game 3-2.

Good job, buddy.

D.T.!

D.T.!

Baby, baby!

Food. I want
some food, baby.

Roast beef sandwich.
I want some cheese,

some bologna,
some turkey,

some potato salad,
a pickle...

Anderson.

Anderson.

I need to see you.

Uh-oh.

Someone's in trouble.

Doesn't look good.

If I'm not back
in five minutes...

I'll put this sandwich
to go, bro, all right?

All right, you guys.

Just make him
his sandwich.

Yeah.

Hi.

Pull up a chair.

See, uh...

this ain't
the Downtown show,

so, uh...

when I ask you
to lay one down,

you lay one down.

But I won the game.

Well, that's not
the point.

We're a team here.

We do what's best
for the team.

And I make
that decision.

See, this isn't about
one guy

doing what he wants to do.

Even if that one guy
wins a ball game?

Even if that one guy
wins a ball game.

Okay.

I'm benching you
for the next three games.

You're serious?

Yeah.

But I'm on a roll.
I've had five hits

in my last 12 at-bats,
and you're going to bench me?

Three games, you sit.

Is that all?

Yeah, that's it.

Skipper, can I talk to you
for a second?

Sure. What's up, Doc?

Well, I've been
working with Rube,

trying to help him
to open up.

Open up?

We were actually
breaking down some walls,

and I really believe

that Rube's whole
throwing problem

goes back to an abrasive
little league coach.

Rube can't throw
worth a shit

because of some jerk-off
little league coach?

In layman's terms, yes.

And I want to ask you

if you could just
be gentle with him.

See, Rube's psyche

is far more delicate

than his rugged facade
would indicate.

You want me to give him
my gentle speech?

If you would be so kind.

And, skipper,

I want to thank you for
making yourself accessible

to such an open dialogue.

You bet.

Mm-hmm. It's strong
for your legs.

It'll be good
for first base.

Balance yourself,
Pops.

Okay.

Ok, now we're going
to do jetés.

We're going to leap
like a gazelle.

Mm-hmm.

Follow me, baby.
Gazelle.

Whoo!

Leap!

♪ Takin' care of business ♪

♪ Every day ♪

Let the ball get further
across the plate, right?

Further in on you,

and then hit
the inside half of it

right into right field.

You can't help
but hit it that way.

Well, why do I want
to hit it into right field?

I mean,
I'm a pull hitter.

I know you are,

and it won't be long

until every pitcher
knows it, too.

Just try it.

All right,
try again.

This time, act like
you give a shit.

Hey, Rube.

Hey, skip.

I've been wondering--

you got any,
uh, hidden skills?

Hidden skills?

Yeah. Like if my car
wasn't running right,

could you take the carburetor
apart and fix it?

No.

No, I don't know nothing
about carburetors.

How about if I bought you
some lumber--

could you make me
a coffee table?

Uh, nope.

Don't believe I could.

So your skills then
lend themselves

primarily to baseball,

we could say that?

Yeah, we could say that.

If another routine throw lands
15 rows in the grandstands,

I'm sending your ass home.

So you better make
your throws,

or I suggest you invest
in some how-to books

and find a fallback
profession, understood?

Yeah. Yes, sir.

I'll just...

Mitt.

I thought you were going
to give him the gentle speech.

That was it.

♪ Whoo ♪

God...

if you can hear me,

please...

send me one real
baseball player.

That's all I ask.

And if you can't grant me
that, then, well...

you might as well
just strike me dead

right here and now.

God?

No.

Moses?

No, but you're
getting warm.

Cerrano.

Hello, Gus.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Be careful, now.

You scared me to death.

Do you mean when you
realized God is black?

Yeah.

I thought she was white.

I must've been out
a long time

if it's Halloween already.

What's your point?

Pedro Cerrano, the original
voodoo man from Mars,

dropped out of baseball

to find whatever the hell
it was he lost.

Maybe his mind.

Anyway, he's back with
a new piece of lumber.

Let's see if he remembers
how to swing it.

Hey, how about that?

Cerrano must have
bumped into

the god
of all line drives.

He just hit a bullet
down the left field line.

Two runs score,

and the Buzz put one
in the win column.

Yeah!

They're on a roll now, baby.

Whoo!

Juan!

The Lopez brothers
pull off a double play--

4 to 6 to 3.

Hey, and not a punch
was thrown,

not a drop of blood
spilled.

All right, Pops,
nice stretch.

All right.

Nothing like a little
brotherly love.

Bunt!

Whoo!
Out!

So the Buzz win
their third in a row.

Oh, my.

Cerrano?

Yo.

Cerrano.

Sí, Gus, what?

Is that who
I think it is?

Jesús Cristo.

Tanaka.

Did your part
to beautify America.

I see you've got it
made in the shade, man.

Peace of brain?

Peace of mind.

Basically, yeah.

Uh, what does your
inner voice tell you?

:

:

Ah...

sounds like Taka
needs a vacation.

I got just the thing.

Come on.

Watch your step.

Go, Taka!

Come on, you can do it!

Taka Tanaka, like Cerrano,

left baseball
for a while.

Here's the windup
and the pitch to Tanaka.

He swings and lines
a single to right field.

Tanaka hit that one
right on the screw.

♪ I'm turning Japanese,
I think I'm turning Japanese ♪

♪ I really think so ♪

Holy crapola!

The Buzz just pulled off
a double steal.

Either someone got
their signals crossed,

or this is starting to look
like a baseball team.

Safe!

What the hell is that?
What's he doing?

Bravo!

I think that's a--a curtsy?

Lance Pere is curtsying
to the crowd.

Huh. He's blowing kisses
and curtsying.

This must go back to his days
as a balladeer.

Oh, he was a singer?

Dancer.

Oh.

All right, Lance.

Now batting, Carlos Liston.

Baltimore Orioles, eight...

Minnesota Twins,
nothing!

Huh?

Coach, you're doing
a fine job,

a real fine job.

Get your heads
in the game, ok?

Huh?
Put the magazines away.

Put the phones away.
Bye, mom.

Pick it up.
Get ahold of one now.

Eighteen million
over three seasons,

and he doesn't even
wave the bat at the ball.

What?

Thought you'd like to know.
The Buzz won again.

That puts them
in second place.

Really?

Well, maybe I'll take
a trip down there,

watch somebody
who's interested

in playing baseball.

The next game
is not until Thursday.

They've got two days off.

Hey, Gus.

Hey, I knew you could turn
that bunch into a ball team.

The first couple of weeks
were pretty rough,

but we're starting
to come together.

Gus, look, you've got
a couple of days off.

Why don't you hop on a plane,
come up here,

and let me wine and dine you
Minnesota style?

I can't.

I promised Maggie I'd spend
the next couple of days off

up there with her.

All expenses paid,

first-class trip
to Minneapolis.

In fact, my assistant
is calling the hotel

as we speak and booking
the presidential suite.

I don't know, Rog.
By the time we get up there,

we got to turn around
and come back.

I'll send
my jet for you.

Very sexy. Nice vacation
for you and Maggie.

Lear jet.

Okay.

Okay, you're on.

Yeah.

So, um...

what's the deal
with Carlos?

Well, Carlos
is in a love fest...

with Carlos.

What about
the rest of your team?

Well, one of them wants
to be traded to New York,

so he can get a little more
press coverage.

My center fielder
is threatening to quit

'cause he wants to become
a male model.

And my shortstop and
second baseman aren't speaking

because one of them's
got a bigger shoe contract,

and they haven't turned
a double play in over a month.

So, out of
your 25 players,

baseball is a primary
concern for how many?

Fourteen...

maybe.

Ah.

Oh, God,
I love this team.

What? I like it.

Huh.

Well, I'll tell you
this, all right?

If I had a good
short reliever,

I could turn this team
around.

In his wildest dreams.

What's that?

Nothing.

No, no. Come on,
go ahead.

Gus.

I'm just saying
that a short reliever

is not going to solve
your problems.

Why's that?

You got no unity.

It's every man for himself.
Nobody's playing for the team.

Well, that's right.
We got a few bad eggs

who are spoiling it
for everyone else.

Well, you see,

when you have
major talent,

you get major
personalities.

Maybe you got too much talent
and not enough team.

Uh-huh.

See, this game is about
nine guys working as one.

They don't have to be the best
nine guys who ever lived.

They just got
to work together.

Oh, that's sweet.

That really is.
That's--that's so sweet.

Nine guys working together
as one.

Come on, everyone.

Om.

Rah, rah, rah.
I love that.

I do. I love that,
but...

uh, eh...

you're just going to have
to trust me on this.

You don't know what
you're talking about.

Is that so?

This might be a good time
to get the check.

Yeah, no, that
most definitely is so.

See, let me explain, okay?

There are two kinds
of baseball, right?

There's big league...

and then there's
little league.

And you, my friend...

you are in the latter.

That smells a little bit
like a challenge.

If you're foolhardy enough
to take it as one,

yeah, it is.

Any hour, any day,
any week,

my guys will be
on the field ready to go.

Waiter?

Wait a second.
Say what?

You would actually step
onto the same field

as my Twins?

Is there an echo
in this room?

Let me tell you
something.

Don't poke me.

If you had
the first idea--

I said don't poke me.

In fact, if you had
any idea of what--

Ow! Ow!
Ow, ow, ow, ow!

I told you not to poke me,
you loudmouth moron!

You are breaking
my finger!

Son of a bitch!

Let go of my finger,
you putz!

Stop!

One minute,
you're telling me about

the new, improved,
responsible Gus Cantrell

and the next thing
I know,

you're rolling across
a barroom floor

punching, kicking,
and biting.

I didn't bite him.

Besides, it wasn't
my fault.

It wasn't your fault?

No. Huff asked me
to hit him.

That's funny. I don't
remember hearing him

request a punch
in the nose.

It's, like, a secret
guy language.

When somebody pokes
you with their finger

more than once,
they're saying,

"Come on and hit me."

A secret guy language.

I mean, I knew
about the handshake

and the decoder ring,

but the language thing
is new to me.

Hello.

Yeah, he's right here.

It's Roger.

Listen, Rog,
I'm really sorry.

Uh, right now?

Okay.

Okay.

On my way.

Good morning,
Mr. Cantrell.

Follow me, please.

No, that
sounds great.

I think that'll
work out great.

Uh-huh.

Behind you
all the way, sir.

Thank you.

I'll tell him
you said that.

Oh, my God.

Ok, gotta go.
Talk to ya. Bye-bye.

Are you out of your mind?

You know, you are
the fifth person

this morning to ask
me that question.

We can't play the Twins.
We're a minor league club.

You said nine players
playing together.

I know what I said,
damn it.

Don't throw it
back at me.

You don't believe it?

Well, of course
I believe it. It's...

Coffee, sir?

Yeah.

Um, I just wanted
to say that, uh,

on behalf of the entire
restaurant staff,

go Buzz. Kick ass.

Um, thanks.

By the way,

that was Huff on
the phone just now.

He thinks that
you're gonna back out.

He said that?

Yeah. Blowin' smoke
out of your butt.

Those were his words.

And gutless. I think
he said gutless.

He--I forgot
how he used it.

Big Twins vs.
The Little Twins.

Sounds like a good way

to put some butts
in the seats, huh?

Do you really think
selling tickets

is my sole motivation?

Ok, maybe it is,
but nevertheless,

this is a great
opportunity

for your boys to see
the show up close, personal.

Gus, come on!

It's--it's dicey.

Why don't you ask your
team what they wanna do?

Huff's finger broken?

Fractured.

Give me 24 hours.
Let me talk to my team.

You're the man.

Gotta go.

Hello?

Yeah,
it's for real.

It's been a while.

One thing
never changes.

What's that?

Butterflies.

Yeah.

What a decade
to quit drinking.

Like I said before,
the charges were dropped.

What about your
alleged quote,

"Carlos Liston is so big,
he's becoming a religion"?

Yeah, honey,
I said it.

You got a problem
with it?

What exactly
does it mean?

It means that people
think of Carlos Liston.

Carlos is on
the minds of people.

They wish
to pay him respect

because they know him
to be a superior man.

Does anyone besides
Carlos Liston

worship at the shrine
of Carlos Liston?

Or is it a one-man
congregation?

Thou shall not
make fun of Carlos,

or thou will get
thou's ass whipped.

This is unbelievable!

Learned a hobby,
man.

You'll be, like,
a starter.

Carlos Liston--

resident madman
and cleanup hitter.

I have to pitch to him?

Yeah.

Yeah, just remember
one thing.

Carlos is a little bit
like a mad dog.

Mad dog?

If he smells fear,
he goes into attack mode.

So no matter
what you do...

Don't let him know
that you are scared.

I gotta use
the bathroom.

Use the mound.
Stake out your territory.

Whoo!

Gentlemen...

this is not a should-win
or want-to-win situation.

This is every
8-year-old's dream.

Playing in
a big league game

in a big league park.

This is a must-win
situation!

Play as well as you can.

I want you to
humiliate, brutalize!

Don't force.
Don't push, huh?

Beat them into submission!

Let's stay loose.

Let's have some fun.

Come on, guys.
What do you say?

Strike three!

He struck him out swinging

and the Hogster
is bringing the heat,

throwin' gas,
tossin' aspirins,

blowin' smoke,
zingin' BBs,

firing missiles,
zipping darts,

threading the needle.

Let's see if my colleague
in the booth here

has anything to add.

Nope, guess not.

Throw!
Make your throw!

Oh, my lord!

Taka slides safely
into first base.

beautiful and daring--

the only words
to describe that play.

Wouldn't you say
"beautiful and daring"?

Well, my colleague,
a little bashful, concurs.

And this Buzz team
has come to play ball.

There's no bout-a-doubt it.

Got it, baby.

Mine! Mine!

What the hell?

Charge!

Keep it up!
Keep it up!

Nice, nice, nice.
Love to your mother.

Hey, hey, Gussy.
Whoo!

Who the man now?
Who the man?

Adams broke up
the double play.

Could have been called
for unnecessary roughness

on that one.

And that brings
Carlos Liston

to the plate.

Time-out.

Hog.

He's been
crowding the plate,

forcing you to throw
into his power.

You better give him
a little chin music.

You want me to throw
at Carlos Liston?

He'll hate you tonight,

but he'll respect you
in the morning.

What do I do if he
comes out here after me?

Just--

Climbing
the center field wall

wouldn't be a bad idea.

Just calming the kid down.

Probably telling him to keep
the ball down and away.

Liston's getting up.

He doesn't appear
to be hurt.

And he doesn't
appear to be happy.

Oh, right now would
be a good time

to get Hog measured
for a casket.

What's up?

Now, I know you ain't
throwing at Carlos Liston,

'cause anyone dumb enough
to throw at Carlos

wouldn't be smart enough to
find their way to the park.

And you're here,
so you ain't that dumb.

I think there was a little
moisture on the ball,

and it slipped
out of my hand.

Moisture?

Dew. A little dew.

Yeah, well, you get that
close to Mr. Liston again,

dew or no dew,

and I'll come
back out here

and beat you into
the ground with that bat.

You got that?

Yes, sir.
Yeah, I got it.

It's no problem.

There's a routine fly ball

hit to left field.

Oh, the wind's
got this baby.

Takin' it back
toward the wall...

the wind's gonna
carry this one

over the fence
for a home run.

I might point out
that there is no wind.

We're in a dome.
An enclosed environment.

There's no rain, either,

in case you
were wondering.

Oh, well, excuse me
for having an opinion, pal.

Hey, what's that
over there?

Where?

Hey!

Look out!

You did that
on purpose.

Oh, my!

My notes.
My scorecard.

It was a complete
accident. I'm--i'm--

My pants!

Here, here, here's a 20.

Get yourself another suit.

Come on, Billy.

Take it out, D.T.

Some people say Downtown
is a big league hitter.

Yeah, he's one
of the people

spreading
that rumor.

I guess now is
the moment of truth.

Here's the windup and
the pitch to Downtown.

He swings and
drives one to left.

This ball is really hit
back toward the wall.

Could get out of here...
gone for Downtown!

And the Buzz have
tied it at three all.

Listen to this crowd!

They love this team!

Whoo!

Well, so much for beating
them into submission.

Shut up!

Get the trainer.
Better bring a bag of ice.

Come on, guys.

Play a little ball
here now. Oh!

Here's the throw
by Tanaka.

Heading towards third.
He threw a bullet.

There's going to be a play,
and they've got him! He's out!

What a throw by Tanaka!

Wasn't that a beaut?

You're a beaut.

You're finally
coming around.

Charge!

Adams swats that one
for a single to left field.

Well, slam or swat,
the Twins' hitters

have timed
this kid's fastball.

Well, Hog will have to go
to one of his other pitches.

He doesn't have
other pitches

Does too.
Does not.

Does too.
Does not.

Does too.
Doesn't.

Does too.
Does not!

Hey, somebody
needs a nap.

He's going to be
sitting on the fastball.

I can't let
that happen to Hog.

Time, ump.
Time!

You ok?

Yeah.

Good job, Hog.

There's nothing
to be ashamed of.

We just gotta find
you another pitch.

Something to go along
with that fastball.

Doc?

Yep.

Coach, he's
got no smoke.

They've been looking
at heat all day.

Give them a little
change of pace.

Coming to the mound
for the Buzz...

will be number 35...
Doc Windgate. Windgate.

Well, we got one out left,
Doc, but, uh,

it's a tough one.

You, uh, want me to go
with the off-speed stuff?

You, uh, you got
anything else?

Nope.

Let's go with
the off-speed stuff.

Strike!

That-a-baby, Doc.
That-a-baby, Doc.

Liston swung
just a little early...

by about four
and a half minutes.

Damn junk baller.

Carlos hasn't seen
anything this slow

since high school.

That-a-guy, Doc.
That-a-guy.

Strike two on Liston.

He's swinging at pitches that
leave Doc's hand on Tuesday.

The trouble is they don't
arrive till Wednesday.

Thanks.

Tell that
son of a bitch

to throw me
his fastball.

That was his fastball.

We're one strike away
from extra innings.

If they go up
to bat again...

We could lose
this damn thing.

Get this guy, okay?

One more time.
One more time.

I'm gonna kill 'em.

You can't do that.

Oh--look, numb nuts,

this is my ballpark,
all right?

I can do anything
that I want to.

You're the manager.

You're right
about that.

You're right
about that.

Do it! That's right,
I said kill 'em.

Here's the pitch.

Oh, isn't that a shame?

Power outage,
my large white buttocks.

Well,
that's what he said.

Did you know
that Huff has "born to lie"

tattooed on his forearm?

Is that true?

He's on the twins--
Carlos Liston.

Gigantic.

You wouldn't believe
it if you saw him,

and he says to me,
"I'm gonna beat you

"into the ground
with this bat."

What did you say?

I said, "you better
chase it on back

"to the plate
where you belong.

"before I rip
your face off

"and shove it
in your..."

No way.

Yeah.

What did he do?

He walked his self
on back to the plate.

Wow.

Tell you what, Rube.

Played a major league team
in a major league stadium.

Made the whole 20 years
worthwhile.

It's a beautiful thing.

Oh, yeah.

♪ Oye como va ♪

♪ Mi ritmo ♪

♪ Bueno pa' gozar ♪

♪ Mulata ♪

♪ Oye como va ♪

♪ Mi ritmo ♪

♪ Bueno pa' gozar ♪

♪ Mulata ♪

♪ Huh ♪

"They're calling it
a tie,

"but the Twins
were outplayed

"by a younger,
gutsy Buzz team.

"and Leonard Huff
was outcoached

"by ex-player rookie
manager Gus Cantrell.

"However, a generator
snafu allowed the Twins

"to limp home

with their dignity
just barely intact."

Congratulations.

Thank you.

A lot of people
are very impressed.

In fact, it's made me
start wondering

if I didn't have a couple
of people in Triple-A

who were ready to come
up to the bigs

and vice versa.

It did?

It made you wonder?

Yeah, it did.

And apparently
I'm not the only one

who's wondering.

I got a call
this morning.

Yeah?

Yeah.

Huff, he, uh...

he wants Downtown.

Roger, Downtown's not ready.

Well,
Huff says he is.

Well, Huff doesn't know
his butt from a manhole cover.

Gus, listen.

No, you listen.

You take Downtown up
too early,

you may have
to send him back,

and that could really
hurt the kid.

Gus--

He's got a big career
ahead of him,

but you've got to bring
him along.

He's just starting
to listen to me--

Gus, Gus!

Huff is the Twins'
manager.

If he wants to bring
a Triple-A ballplayer

to the show,
then I'm sorry.

He's made it very clear.

He wants Downtown.

Take care, man.

You guys do, too.

Hey, good luck, bud.

Well...

going to the show.

Yeah, I'm going...

to the show.

Could I make sort of an
off-the-wall suggestion?

Sure.

Tell Huff you want
four more weeks with me

before you go up.

Convince him you need
a little more time.

What the hell would I want
to do that for?

Because you're not ready
yet, kid.

Bullshit.

Huff says I am.

Huff doesn't know, okay?

He's not about
turning you

into a baseball player.

He's trying to use
a publicity stunt

to cover up
a lousy season.

You know, I knew this.

I knew this would happen.

I knew you'd come in
and try to rain on my parade.

I'm not trying
to rain--

Yes, you are.

You've been on my ass
since the very beginning.

I hit a home run,
and you benched me.

You told me not to pull
when I'm a natural pull hitter.

I'm just trying
to help you.

Don't tell me
you're trying to help me,

'cause you're not.

You never were.

Want me to tell you why?

Because you're jealous.

You're jealous of the fact
that I got more talent

on my worst day
than you've had

in your whole
goddamn career.

What, it's true,
isn't it?

Isn't it? Isn't it?

You've never had half
the talent that I do.

That's true.

God, I should have known
you couldn't just shake my hand

and say good luck.

But you know what?

I don't give a shit
'cause I just passed you up.

I don't need you,
Gus Cantrell.

I'm moving on to bigger
and better things.

Thanks.

Thanks for nothing.

Strike two!

So the Buzz lose
another close one.

They've dropped seven
of the last eight,

making this a very rough
road trip.

Gentlemen.

Some of you guys might want
to check your contracts.

You set there, Rube?

Oh, yeah, sorry.

A little more mayo
there.

Seems you signed on
to play an entire season,

but it looks like
you quit playing

about two-thirds
of the way through,

and I'd like
for someone to tell me

what the hell is going on.

Huh?

Yeah, Hog?

Well, you see, um...

no one thinks that we can win
without Downtown...

I think.

Look, this game is not about
one home run hitter.

Don't get me wrong.

I miss Downtown as much
as any one of you,

but baseball
is not about one player.

It's about a team,

an entire team,
playing together.

Oh, that's right.

Look at me like I'm some
damn corndog old man

who doesn't know what the hell
I'm talking about.

You know, I don't know
about the rest of you,

but I remember
not too long ago

we were the joke
of the league.

Now we've won a few games.

We even went dead even
with the big team,

and this man
made the difference.

I think we might want to listen
to what he has to say.

Look, guys, I'm just asking
you to do one thing.

Start thinking about
how you can help the guy

sitting next to you.

Maybe you know something
he doesn't know.

Maybe you got some information
you can pass along.

We're traveling tonight.
We got the Crawdads tomorrow.

By the time
we hit the field,

I expect everybody's mind
to be on teamwork

and the business
of baseball.

Cool?

It's cool.

All right.

Let's pack it up
and get out of here.

It's not
that complicated.

You see,
a curve ball is simply

the application
of basic physics.

Resistance plus velocity
equals...

You okay?

Yeah.

Uh, motion.

Bingo.

Now, by controlling
the resistance,

I.E. The rotation,
you can determine

direction of motion.

The greater the velocity,

the less opportunity
for resistance.

Thus, a smaller degree
of motion.

Right.

Less velocity.

Create more
resistance.

Allow for greater
movement.

Strike three, you're out!

He struck him out.

Hog Ellis has just thrown
the first curve ball

of his young life.

And the boy now has not one,
but two pitches.

All right!

Nice deuce
there, Hog.

I just decreased
velocity,

reversed the ball's
natural rotation.

Whatever
you say, Hog.

Just keep
throwing 'em.

Way to go, Hogster.

Norman looks in,
gets the signal.

Here's the pitch.

Swing and a miss.

And strike three.

Anderson goes down
swinging.

And is now three for 15
since joining the Twins.

Downtown, huh?

More like down and out
if you ask me.

Voodoo! Voodoo! Voodoo!

Voodoo! Voodoo!

Voodoo! Voodoo! Voodoo!

Voodoo! Voodoo! Voodoo!

As it's been explained to me,
the hood helps Cerrano focus.

All I know is it looks
dumb as hell,

and he has to be led
up to home plate.

But I've long since given up
trying to understand this team.

Cerrano lines a bullet
to left center.

Romance is rounding third.

Lance the dance scores
on what appears to be

a double salchow and a triple
axel thrown in, too.

What a play.

The Buzz are back on track.

They've won
seven of their last 10.

All right, all right.
Good stuff.

I...

Hi.

Hey.

I couldn't
cut the mustard.

Sorry.

Man, you can say
"I told you so" if you want.

No point in that.

Look, about all that shit
I said to you, I'm sorry.

Well...

it's water
over the bridge

or under the dam

or wherever the hell
the water goes.

Sit down.

Yes, sir.

Any idea what happened?

It was, uh...

I mean, a number of things,
really, but...

they just started
throwing me outside

like you said they would.

You want to know
the good news?

Yeah.

Yeah, I'd like to hear
some good news.

This is nothing
we can't fix.

How do we do that?

Sweat, sweat,
and more sweat.

Straight up with your hands,

straight back
with your chests.

Way back to the sky.

Way beyond your hands

and then back
into first position.

Clear.

Wow.

That's cool.

I told you not to do
anything fancy.

But if I can get around
on an outside--

Do you know more
about hitting than I do?

No.

I'm asking you
to do two things:

keep your mouth shut,

and listen
to my instructions.

Can you do that?

Yeah.
Yeah.

Okay.

Don't over swing,
all right?

Take a little bit later

and drive it
into right field.

Here we go.

That's better,
that's better.

You ready?

Ready.

It's dark in there.

You're not scared?

Clear.

Thinking ball
and nothing else.

Thinking ball
and nothing else.

♪ Well, I know that it's
Been a long ♪

♪ Time since I been gone ♪

♪ It's easy to forget ♪

♪ Help me remember ♪

Keep your head down.

Go, Downtown.

Come on, buddy.
Give it a ride, pal.

Nothing fancy.
Just keep your head down.

Here's the pitch
to Anderson.

It's a swing
and a base hit to right.

This will send
Juan 1 to third.

Downtown's got another base hit,
sending his average up

near the 300 mark.

Safe!

This kid's not just
a home run swinger anymore.

He's turning himself
into a solid hitter.

Hey, coach, you finished
the season in first place.

Let's face it, you do it
without anything

that even resembles
a major league player.

Hold it right there.

We got a lot of players
on this team

of major league caliber.

Like who?
Downtown Anderson?

Yeah, for one.

I heard coach Huff say

he thinks Downtown's
a mistake.

He even went on to say
that he didn't have

any business
in the big leagues.

Well, once again
Leonard Huff has his head

shoved up a body cavity
that I can't mention on TV.

So you disagree with Huff's
evaluation of Anderson?

Not only do I disagree,
but I'm not even sure

that Huff,
or for that matter,

some of his own players,

belong
in the major leagues.

In fact,
as far as I'm concerned,

you're looking
at the best team

in the entire
Twins organization.

Ha! You minor league
peckerwad.

Beat 'em man-to-man
at every position.

Once again, though,

Huff considers that
incomplete.

I think
he even said...

I said it was a fluke.
I said that.

I want to hear
what he's saying.

Would you shut up?

Love this announcer.

Shut up.

The light thing
was pretty squirrely.

Meaning?

I'd like to check
the fingerprints

on that light switch.

He's accusing me.

This son of a bitch
is accusing me.

If we can't
beat the Twins,

I'll hand over my entire
year's salary to Huff.

And if the Twins lose?

I can't believe
he's doing this.

The least he could do
would be to put up his job.

So this is a, uh...

challenge.

A friendly challenge
with incentives.

If you win,
you get to manage the Twins.

If Huff wins, then he takes
home your entire year's salary.

That's right.

I'm gonna ask
for one condition.

:
What's that condition
gonna be?

This game should be
played at home,

at Buzz stadium.

So, Leonard Huff,
wherever you are,

the ball's
in your court.

Aw, Jesus, Lenny!

You could have just
turned it off.

That son of a bitch
set me up.

He knew every
sports channel in America

would run this thing.

Nobody ever said
he was stupid.

Yeah, well, I'll say it.
He's stupid.

He's stupid, stupid.
He's so stupid.

Oh, stop.

He's stupid.

What am I
gonna do now?

Well, the way I see it
you got one of two choices.

You can either
play the Buzz,

or you can have the entire world
of baseball call you a coward.

It's up to you.

By the way,

you just bought yourself
a $1,200 TV.

Jopu,
what are you doing here?

I told you before.

These boys, they've got
to do it on their own.

I would love to use you,
but I cannot,

so please get back
in the bag.

But stay close.

Jesus Christ,
what a dump.

Oh, man, can you imagine
living like this?

Look out!

Sorry to have to do this,

but there's a speech clause
in my contract.

I know you've all read
in the paper

that this game
is a publicity stunt,

part of my ongoing feud
with Leonard Huff.

But it would be foolish
and self-indulgent

for me to put you all
in such a jam,

in such a tough game
for publicity.

No, my--

my motivation is stronger,
deeper than that.

It's...

it's ego.

But unlike some coaches

who might ask you
to go out there

and play the game
because you love it

or because you're fulfilling
a lifelong dream,

I'm asking plain and simple
that you win this one...

for me.

Huh?

Win this one
for Gus Cantrell.

Now, stay loose, play hard,
give it your best shot,

and let's go out there

and take a bite
out of the big team's ass.

♪ If they don't win ♪

♪ It's a shame ♪

♪ 'Cause it's one ♪

♪ Two ♪

♪ Three strikes,
you're out ♪

♪ At the old ball game ♪

Let's go now!
Come on, boys!

Let's go!
Play ball!

Gentlemen, you know
the ground rules,

so let's shake hands.

Have a good, clean
ball game.

I'm going to give you
the beating of your life.

We'll see about that.

Yeah, we will.

By the way,

some of the guys
have been wondering

where you got
your toupee.

This is not a toupee,
all right?

This is real.

You can level with me,
huh, Lenny?

Come on,
where'd you get it?

No, it is.
It's real, see?

It's mine.
Come on.

It is. It's real,
and it's mine.

See that?
Ha-ha-ha!

Dumb ass. Ha ha!

I'll go tell the guys
they were wrong.

Well, the first pitch
has yet to be thrown,

and already Leonard Huff
is tearing his hair out.

And what a lovely
head of hair it is.

That is, of course,
assuming it's real.

Heh-heh-heh.

And, frankly, I've always
had a question.

You're out!

All right, Lance.

You're out!

What style.
What finesse.

What je ne sais quoi,

which is Italian for
"what a hell of a play."

It's French,

and it's
je ne sais quoi.

Get out of here. It means
the same thing in French?

Huh. What about that?

Mon dieu.

God bless you.

Hog! Hog! Hog! Hog!

Hog! Hog! Hog! Hog!

Strike two!

Kid learned to throw
a curve ball, huh?

Gee, I don't know.

I mean, was that
a curve ball?

I mean, it's hard for me
to tell from way back here.

Carlos moves in
a little closer,

trying to get a good look
at Hog's mystery pitch.

Otherwise known
as a curve ball.

Probably a curve ball.

Carlos is taking
the plate away from Hog.

The kid's afraid
to throw him inside.

Hog! Hog! Hog! Hog!

Hog! Hog! Hog! Hog!
Hog! Hog!

Come on, man.

Come on.

Come on!
Come on! Come on!

Second. Second.

All righty, Hog.
Come on, buddy.

Hang tough now.
Let's go.

Ha ha! Let's go.
Let's go, guys.

Come on, we need
some more runs now.

Be a hitter up there!
Be a hitter up there!

Hey, hey. Pitcher's
got a rubber arm.

Ha ha!

Hey, give me
some pistachios.

That's it. That's it.

Go, go, go, go, go!

You're outta there!

Good job.
Good job.

You all right?

Come on, Buzz!

Yeah! Yeah!

Two! Two!

Come on!

Come on, baby.

Well, the entire
Lopez family scores,

and the Twins
learn the hard way

you can't pitch
around Anderson.

He's become
a complete hitter.

All right, guys.
Come on, come on, come on.

Let's go.
I need some more runs.

More runs.

You're outta there!

That's poetry--
pure poetry.

Poe, Wadsworth,

Barry Manilow,

Maya Angelou,

this Buzz Ball Club--

what do they all have
in common?

Poetry.

And I have to ask
my colleague--

have you ever seen a sunset
more beautiful

than that play
at the plate?

My colleague
is speechless.

He's speechless.

Come on, let's go!

Hey, twinkle toes,
go ahead and get a lead.

Get a lead, little bigger lead.
That's it.

Pitch count.

What's the pitch count?

Ninety-seven.

Jeez, you moron.
Come on, you're killing me!

And you are not helping.

All right, all right.
Come on, Lance.

Give me an "L"!

L!

Give me an "A"!

A!

Give me an "N"!

N!

Give me a "C"!

C!

Give me an "E"!
E!

What have you got?

:
Lance!

What have you got?

Lance!

Lance!
Lance!

Top of the ninth.
Twins are leading 4-3.

And with two outs
and a runner on second,

the big man, Carlos Liston,
comes to the plate.

Hey, Cantrell!

Scoreboard!

Scoreboard!

Man, you must love
these minor leagues.

Come on, now!

Come on, now!
Hit a one-ton tomato!

Yes, yes, yes!

Foul ball!

Oh, shit!

That ball lands foul
for a very long strike one.

All right, Carlos.

Pop one out, and I'll give you
all the tamales you can eat!

Keep it fair!

Yes, yes, yes!

I better go talk to him.

Another long strike,
and here comes Cantrell.

And I imagine
he's gonna ask Hog Ellis

to keep some of these
strikes inside the park.

Hey.

Got two strikes
on him.

Yup.

They were beauties,
too, huh?

He's crowding the plate
a little bit.

Yeah.

Hog.
Yeah.

You want
to walk him

and pitch to
the next batter?

No.

I want Carlos.

I think it's time
for a little chin music.

You sure?

Yeah.

When he hits the dirt,

you get the ball back
to me quick as you can.

All right.

If he comes out,
I'll try to cut him off.

No, Pops, you stay put.

This is my fight.

He's gonna
knock him down, boys.

He's gonna knock him down.

Come on, Hog,
let's do it, buddy.

All right,
now, just hold on.

Wait, wait, wait.

Now, this here is
a 100-mile-an-hour fastball.

The most powerful fastball
known to man.

From this distance,
if it were to hit you,

it'd take your head
clean off.

Of course, I could miss...

but my control has been
pretty good today...

so you gotta ask yourself
one question.

Do I feel lucky?

Well...

do you, Carlos?

Let's go. Play ball.

Ok, let's play now!

Play ball!

Strike three, you're out!

Yeah, yeah!

Whoo!

Whoo!

Man, you did it!

This is bad.

Very bad. Not good.

That brings us to the bottom
of the ninth.

By the way, folks,

Hog Ellis
is not a fighter.

That's for sure.

So I'm guessing he's appealed
to Liston's more humane side--

Begging
for his life.

Explaining we're all here
to enjoy the game--

Speak for yourself.

And there's no reason for
anyone to get angry or hurt.

Especially
not Hog himself.

And let me say this--

if there is
a sportsmanship award,

my vote goes
to Hog Ellis.

And, oh, there's the other half
of the voodoo magic brothers,

Taka Tanaka.

:
Taka! Taka! Taka!

:
Taka! Taka!

You're all nuts.
You know that?

Every last one of you.

Well, it's an aura thing,

which can only be appreciated

by those of
an enlightened nature.

Yeah, it doesn't hurt

if you're a little
tweaked upstairs.

And don't even
try and tell me

you can see
with that thing on.

Now Tanaka takes
a couple of practice cuts

and steps up to the plate.

Taka drives one
through the infield,

and the Buzz have
another base hit.

Come on, you guys
are killing me!

What are you
looking at, huh?

What are you
smirkin' at?

Are you smirkin' at me?

What is this,
some kind of conspiracy?

You, I can't even look
at you, you waste of time.

Hit the showers,
you pig.

Thank you.

Oh, yeah! All right!

Let's go.

Come on, let's go.

What's up?

You, uh,
you want me to bunt?

Sacrifice Taka

will get him
into scoring position.

I want you to go downtown.

Downtown?

I want you to hit the ball
into another zip code.

Yes, sir.

Yes, sir.

Gonna sacrifice?

I told him to swing
for the fence.

You did what?

You heard me.

You never tell a hitter
to swing for the fence.

I couldn't help myself.

Play ball!

Strike!

Come on, buddy.

Swing freeze. Ha ha.

Come on.
Come on, come on.

Come on, buddy,
dig in there.

Get the next one.
Let's go.

Oh, I got it!
I got it! I got it!

Good try, buddy.
Good try.

You can do this.

You can do this.

You can do this.

It's gone.

Come on, baby.
Come on.

It's gone!

That is it.
That is all she wrote.

The fat lady is
on her way to the field.

What a perfect end
to a fantastic season.

Hey, let's be friends.
No.

Come on.
Give me a little hug.

No! No.
Come on.

No! Stay away!
One little hug.

I'm a married man.
Aw, come on,

at least let me carry
you downstairs.

That's it.

It's over.

I'm not a Pirate,
I'm not a Yankee,

I'm not even a Red Sock.

I am a damn Buzz.

Thank you.

A bumblebee.

Yeah, that's what I am,
a Buzz.

As far as I'm concerned,
a deal's a deal.

Besides, I know
how long you've waited

to get to
the major leagues,

and I know...

that it has been
a lifelong dream.

Boy, I never thought
I'd say this, but...

I'm gonna have to pass.

I'm talkin' about a job
with the Twins here, Gus.

I got a lot
of information

I'd like to pass on
to young ballplayers.

That's where I belong,

and that's what
I want to do.

You wanna manage
a minor league team?

That's right.

I wanna stick with the Buzz,
if it's, uh, ok with you.

Of course, but--

But, uh...thanks.

Your attention, please.

Flight 63 to Miami
is now boarding at gate 28.

Oh, that's us.

Wait a minute.

where are you guys goin'?

It's called
a honeymoon.

Wave bye-bye.

Hey, that's great.
Congratulations.

Hey, I don't
have any plans.

You mind if I come along?

And he hits it,
and it's going, going...

could be. It is!

A home run!