All language subtitles for Poker Face (2023) S02E05 - Hometown Hero_track4_[eng]

It's a beautiful day

here at Velvety
Canned Cheese Park.

Making your cheese a breeze.

Good morning, everybody.

Get you some canned cheese.

That hat is too great.

I love it, you girls.

And here come our boys now.

Ladies and gentlemen,
your Montgomery Cheesemongers!

And on the mound,
Montgomery's own hometown hero,

"Rocket" Russ Waddell!

Get 'em, Rocket!
Mow 'em down!

These rat bastards
can't handle the heat, Russ!

Blast off!

Oh!

Come on!

Shake it off, Rocket!
You still got it!

Just warming up, Russ,
just warming up!

Ah, shit.

It's a fucking embarrassment.

I never even seen
nothin' like it, man.

Never gonna win again.
Never getting laid again.

Twenty-nine straight losses!

Twenty-nine!

We're like the goddamn
Bad News Bears!

Actually, the Bad News Bears

had one good pitcher
and one good hitter.

So unless Tatum O'Neal walks
through that door, we're worse.

Russ.

Russ?

Are we drinking?

Right behind you.

Hey.

- Brought you some soup.
- Oh.

- Thank you, Lucille.
- Mm-hmm.

Well, I just wanted you
to know that

you will always have a home here

at Velvety Canned Cheese Park.

You're part of the family
no matter what.

Thanks.

And with Sal retiring
next season,

we're going to need
a new head groundskeeper.

Oh, dang.
Oh, did Skip not...

- Oh.
- Uh...

I was just, um,

working up the nerve
to tell you.

GM called.

Organization's going
to let you go.

That's it?

I'm done?

Russ, I'm sorry.

It's just... time.

Oh, so that's it, huh?

Yep. They're giving me
one more start,

then off to the pasture.

Goddamn.

It's not fair, Rocket.

It's too damn fair.

That's what hurts.

If I still had my heat,
that'd be something else.

You still have that
100-mile-an-hour fastball

left in you, Russ.

Yeah, you'll get it back.

Nah, it's gone.

Skip's right.
Maybe it's just time.

Rocket, fellas,
drinks are on me.

Oh.

Look at that!

I actually won 200 bucks
betting on you guys

losing back-to-back games.

Figured I owed you, so...

Hey, enjoy.

Does anybody got any decent work

lined up for the off season?

Not yet.

They still got
the classified ads
in the newspapers?

I don't think they
still have newspapers.

Vegas odds of us losing our
next five games is 22 to one?

- Hmm.
- So?

So?

If our so-called fans
could make money

off how bad we are,

why can't we?

Isn't players gambling
on games illegal?

It's more than illegal, Goose.
It's sacrilege.

And if anybody even heard
that we were discussing this,

forget the show,
we'd all be banned for life.

Lew, you're a 32-year-old
bush league catcher

with a career
batting average of 220.

I hate to break it to you,
but you ain't making the show.

Neither are you.

I know.
None of us are.

I mean, we can't beat time.

So what do we do?

Okay, we got five games

between now
and my last start, right?

If someone was to bet a parlay

on us losing all five games,

for any dollar they put in,

that someone would get 22 back.

And that someone is us.

- Right?
- Oh, my God.

Thank you, Carl.

Okay, look, we pool together

all the money we could get
our hands on, right?

Life savings,
second mortgages, whatever.

Then we bet on ourselves.

I mean, if we could get,
like, 100K,

we're talking, like,
two million in return, huh?

Are we in?

I'm in.

If I sell the camper,

I can get, like, 15, 20 grand.

- Ha-ha!
- Let's go!

Attaboy.

Cheesemongers lose to the Honeys

12 to 0.

Cheesemongers lose again
11 to one.

On the bright side,
Velvety Canned Cheese

does help to drown the sorrow

of this punishing losing streak.

Mm-mm-mm.

Safe!

Cheesemongers lose 13 to three.

Mm.

Someone take this away from me,

but just know
I'ma put up a fight.

Cheesemongers
keep it within 10 runs,

losing 14 to five.

Let's go.

Another Cheesemonger loss
would make for 34 straight,

breaking a minor league record
that stood since 1951.

Russ, as today's
starting pitcher,

how are you dealing
with the pressure?

Well, I'm just grateful
I'm the one

who's taking the mound
for us today.

Oh, Russ,

seems like, uh,

I bear nothing
but bad news these days.

Front office promoted
a kid from rookie ball,

Felix Domingo.

And they want him to start.

Skip, this is my last start.

You said I could have this.
What the fuck?

I'm sorry, Russ.

- Hey, Skip. Hi.
- Lew.

I borrowed eight grand
from a guy named, no joke,

Shady "The Kneecapper" McGee.

If this Felix kid is
any good, we're screwed!

Hey, settle down, alright?

Let me see what's what.

Hey. Welcome to the club.

Oh, my God,
"Rocket" Russ Waddell!

Oh, my God, man,
it's really you.

You know who I am?

Yeah, of course, man.

Actually, when I was a kid,
my brother and I,

we tried buying up
all your rookie cards.

You know,
100-mile-an-hour fastball,

crazy movement.

We thought you were
going to be like
the next Roger Clemens.

Yeah.
Well, time gets us all.

- What's that?
- Oh, this?

Yeah, it's actually pretty cool.

So it's a barometer.

My curves usually borderline

in most altitudes, right?

But with the lower
elevation here,

I feel like I can get
a good break going.

Okay, that's one approach.

Yeah, for sure.

- You want a dip?
- Nope.

Sorry, I...

got my own.

Yeah.

Yeah, anyway,
I always like to scout

the ballpark before I pitch.

Wind conditions,
field conditions.

There's always
something I can use.

You know that.

Honor to meet you,
but I should warm up

if I'm gonna stop
this losing streak.

You're a fuckin' legend.

- I just...
- Okay.

- Alright, good luck out there.
- Thank you, man.

- So?
- Well, I don't think
he's much,

but still, we can't
leave this to chance.

I say we jump
the bastard right now,
go for the elbow.

We don't need
to hurt the kid, okay?

Just get him out of the game.

Hey, go get 'em, Petey!

That's it.

Hey, don't worry, I got an idea.

I'll see you on the field.

If we're getting
$3.1 million

and we're splitting it
five ways,

then 5% going to our front man,

how much money does
that leave me exactly?

I hate this type of math, dude.

We'll take care of it
afterwards, alright?

Right now, I just need you
to keep your head in the game

so we can lose it, okay?

Okay?

Let's get asses kicked, huh?

I've been noticing a slight
numbness in my right arm,

and I'm wondering
if it's related to all

the Velvety Canned Cheese
I've been eating.

Is anyone else
experiencing this?

If so, please come see me
in the announcer booth.

Taking the mound
for the first time
with the 'Mongers

is Felix Domingo,

just promoted from rookie ball.

Let's see if he
can snap the team

out of its incredibly
dispiriting historic skid.

There you are.

What'd you do?

Scored some acid from one
of the hippie vendor dudes,

spiked the kid's gum.

It should kick in any minute.

You Dock Ellis'd him?

I what?

Dock Ellis,
Pittsburgh Pirates, 1970.

He dropped acid 'cause he
thought it was his day off,

but then he had to pitch.

Yeah.

I Dock Ellis'd
the shit out of him.

No, you dumb-ass.

Once the LSD kicked in,

his game went to
a whole other level.

He threw a no-hitter.

Strike!

Oh, shit.

Strike!

Strike!

Strike!

Strike! You're out!

I seem to have stopped
seeing the color green?

It's weird.

All the other colors
are still present

in my field of vision,

but the grass, for instance,

has taken on
a kind of gray pallor.

I have stopped eating
the Velvety Canned Cheese.

But if there is a medical
doctor in attendance

and you'd be open
to stopping by,

I don't think
that'd be the worst idea.

Well, folks, we've got ourselves

an old-fashioned pitcher's duel.

Still zero-zero
here in the ninth.

Can the unorthodox
young Felix Domingo

continue his dominant
debut performance?

Hey, pal.

- Bunt.
- What?

And don't stop running.

Trust me.

I'm going to humble the new kid.

First pitch
of the ninth underway.

And it's a bunt.

Dundee fields
what should be an easy out

and... throws it
into the outfield?

Come on, Carl.

Sandberg trips

and throws the ball
into the ground.

Jackson picks up the ball...
no, he muffs it.

- Safe!
- Ah!

Oh, shit!

- Ah.
- Dammit!

Shit!

- Damn it!
- Play better!

Yes. Yes. Yes.

It's a solemn scene
at Velvety Canned Cheese Park

as our beloved
Cheesemongers are now

officially the biggest losers
in minor league history.

Truly, there is no joy
in Mudville tonight.

We're the worst!
We're the worst!

We suck! We suck! We suck!

You got rid of
the spiked gum, right?

Shit.

Come on.

Come on.

Shit.

Shit.

Oh. Felix, hey.

I can't find my damn car keys.

Hell of a game, kid.
Sorry about that loss.

Is this what you used?

Used?

You and your buddies,
you tried to spike my gum

to get me out of the game?

What?
Why would we do that?

Because you wanted to throw it.

We're like the worst team
in minor league history.

Even if we were going
to throw the game,

how would you even tell?

Because your buddy, Carl,

tried doing a little math
in my notebook between innings

trying to figure out
how to split up

$3,136,018

five ways.

You're in it.
He broke down your names.

Goddammit, Carl, shit!

And he got the math wrong.

Okay, w-we can make this right.

Wh-what's it going to take?

Out on the mound today,
I-I went to some place,

a place I've only dreamed of,

where-where God's face

speaks from
the crystalline waters

and his angels
manifest in monkey form.

What the hell are you
talking about, Felix?

I'm done with baseball.

Yeah, I wanna move to Belize...

and find God

and take drugs...

after you give me the $3 million

you won on today's game.

Oh, come on, man!

That's our life savings
you're talking about.

Some of these guys got families.

Look, why don't
we give you half?

You could go to Belize
and we'll call it a day.

Either you give me

the entire three million
to keep me quiet,

or I bring the evidence
to the cops

and you lose it all anyway.

"Rocket" Russ!

Shit!

You done?

Yeah, yeah, I guess I am.

Smack.

I'll give you instructions

on how to wire me
the money tomorrow.

Once it's in my account,
I'll give you the evidence.

Alright? Oh, and Russ,
you were so right.

Time gets us all.

But you had all the time
and the talent

as any of the greats.

You just blew it.

Jesus, man, look at you.

I don't even know how
you live with yourself.

Oh, my God.

My fastball, I got it!

I still got...

Oh, shit.

Hey.

Hey.

Heyo!

A-Ha!

Hmm.

Hmm.

Alright, uh,

now I'm like emotionally
invested in this shit.

Come on.

Yeah, I still don't get it.

What's your job?

I wanna say, uh,

administrative assistant
or something.

Error 10,
category network error.

Yeah, I already knew that.

And why does that appeal?

Well, I told you
that I binge watched

"The Office" last month, right?

Oh, no.

The road was getting lonely
and I figured,

ah, community,

same people every day,
entertaining dynamics.

I should try office life.

- Dumb, right?
- Ah, I get it.

Sometimes we need
an inspirational smack.

Hmm.
So I guess this company,

they, they all started
working remotely

during COVID
and they never came back,

and they need, uh,
one person in the office

so it's not technically vacant,

you know, for
insurance purposes.

This was a dumb idea.
I should quit.

My experience,

it's the smack after the smack

that you gotta watch for.

Hmm.

I'm not fully sure
what that means, man.

I...

A-ha!

Ha!

Smack.

This is yours, I think, right?

Thank you.

I just have to ask,

what is your general philosophy

regarding litigation and such?

Look, uh,

looking around,
I can see this isn't really,

you know, the major leagues.

And anyway, by nature,

I gotta say I'm a lover,
not a suer.

I'm so glad.
I have to tell you something.

We are barely keeping
the lights on as it is.

I think this team is very
important to this town.

Gives us a sense
of community, you know?

It's a place for people
to come every day,

same people
but interesting dynamics.

No shit.

Second smack, wow.

Okay, uh, crazy question.

- Hey!
- You were born

to wear that uniform!

- Yeah?
- Yes!

Okay, so, uh,
how does this work?

Oh, hey, batter, batter, batter,

batter, batter, batter,
batter, batter, batter.

No, don't do that.

Come here, walk with me.

As a ball girl, what
you're going to do, honey,

is you're going
to field foul balls,

and you're going
to interact with the fans,

which can really be fun.

And then before the game,

you just pitch in
wherever you're needed,

operating the pitching machine,
shagging balls.

- Do explain that one.
- Simple.

You just pick up
the loose baseballs

during batting practice.

- Okay. I can do it.
- Yeah.

- Okay?
- Yeah, yeah.

I'm going to introduce you

to the oldest member
of our family.

His name is Rambo.

And I should have
retired him years ago,

but I don't have the funds
to get a new one.

I'll show you how it works.

You flip this switch.

Oh, I should tell you,
you gotta be real careful

because every couple balls,
he just starts shooting wild

and he could hit
anything in sight.

- Uh, you see?
- Yeah.

Wow. Uh, so what do you do
when that happens?

Just, look, smack! Ah!

If you could sign my cheese?

Uh, hey.

Who's Mr. Baseball
over there?

"Rocket" Russ Waddell,

greatest athlete
this town's ever produced,

former first round
draft pick and top prospect,

one of only three
Montgomery citizens

to get their own
Wikipedia entry.

I'll bite.
Who are the other two?

Hiram Lubinski, the inventor

of Velvety Canned Cheese
Substitute Spread,

and my cousin Jamie,
who co-founded WikiKnees.

I mingle with royalty.

So, uh...

what is mister hotshot Rocket

doing here in the minors?

Russ lost his fastball
a few years ago.

No one knows why.

Injury, bad luck, family curse.

It was a classic case
of the yips and you know it.

- Ugh.
- I'm sorry, yips?

Russ got in his own head

and messed with
his whole approach.

We tried every cure
in the book to fix it.

Body waxing, ritual tugging,
slutty Babe Ruth.

None of it worked.

But I got a feeling

that today's going
to be the day.

Finally going to get
the old Rocket back.

Oh!

Shake it off, Rocket!

You still got it!

Oh, sadly bullshit.

Another pitcher, Frank.

Hi. Uh...

Oh, I'm Charlie,
the new ball girl.

Don't think we've met.

I'm Russ,
the washed-up old timer.

Oh, come on.

Hey, sorry about
the, uh, the game.

It's a tough loss.

You think I'd get used
to it by now.

Hey, it's just a game.

Shake it off, right?

That sounded off.

You're going to tell me
it's not just a game, right?

No, you're right,
it's just a game,

but it's the only thing
I've ever had a gift for.

And when you're
given a gift in life,
even a strange one

like throwing a little ball
swiftly past a man with a stick,

when you get a taste
of puttin' it to use...

Been years since
I even touched 90,

let alone triple digits.

Actually, as somebody with, uh,

well, strange gifts
myself, I relate.

But isn't there
something you can do,

like a robo arm,
surgery or something?

Physically speaking, I'm fine.

It's all in my damn head.

At least I don't have
to worry about that anymore.

Oh, yeah?
Why is that?

Skip said I got one more start.

I'm done.

No shit.

Rocket, here's, uh,
to going out with a bang, huh?

It's Russ, please.
And thanks.

- Until we meet again.
- Okay, until we meet again.

Cheers cheers.

- Oh, so that's it, huh?
- Yep.

They're giving me
one more start,

then off to the pasture.

Oh.

Deputy ball girl, that's you!

We've got ourselves
an old-fashioned pitcher's duel.

Go, go!

Can the unorthodox

young Felix Domingo continue...

Ah, look it,
she's running, she's running!

Bang-up job, deputy.

Ah.

Charlie Cale, I do believe
you found yourself

a rewarding career.

I'll do it.

Oh.

Hey, hey.

Hey, that was a heck
of a first game.

I, uh, like your style, kid.

Did you know that God is a verb?

I did not know that.

Oh...

How about some water
or something?

God.

God isn't God.

No, you know, like, not,

not like the way
that we were taught.

See, God is the music
of the spheres,

the symphonic echo
of radical love

between all living things.

Oh, boy.
Hey, uh, would you mind?

Hmm.

Oh.

You know what I should do
is get your autograph

'cause the way you were
throwing out there today,

oh, boy, yeah, you're headed
for the big leagues.

I'm quitting the game.

Huh?

Because none of this matters.

You know, like who wins,
who loses, you see, God...

and the monkeys matter.

Hmm.

I really think you should
drink some of that.

Huh?

Hey, you have a retirement fund

or a side hustle,
crypto trading or something?

Well, money, eh.

Don't overthink it.

When inspiration smacks, listen.

Yeah. Smack. Inspiration.

Although they do say
that it's actually

the, uh, the second smack
that gets you, so...

What's that mean?

I have no idea but, uh, hydrate.

Thank you, ball girl,
for sharing your wisdom.

Yes, of course, anytime.

And, uh, well,
good luck coming down

off whatever you're
coming down from.

On?

No, I don't take anything.

Me neither... officer.

Okay, Godspeed.

Godspeed.

Godspeed.

Yum.

Yum.

Yum

Yum.

Yum.

Yum!

Yum.

Yum.

Yum. Yum. Yum

Yum.

Yum.

Yum.

Ah, I don't think so.

Yum, yum, yum!

Ah!

Charlie Cale...

Charlie Cale...

the wanderer...

It's up to you
to save this ballpark,

to save this team.

It is?

Why?

Because baseball...
is not just a game.

It is the secret of the spheres.

Are you...

God?

I...

am Hiram Lubinski,

the inventor of
Velvety Canned Cheese
Substitute Spread,

now available in jalapeño
and spicy seafood flavors.

Oh, I get it.

Ah, the mascot is you.

I'm the founder of this ballpark

as well as its
spiritual guardian.

Cool.

Baseball is not just a pastime.

It is the passing
of time itself.

Tell me, wanderer,
is it any coincidence

that the goal of every hitter
is to return safely to home?

Huh.

Wow.

This ballpark is home.

Without it, the people
of Montgomery would be lost...

and my granddaughter, Lucille...

would be bereft

with no community,

without any sense of belonging.

Do you know what
that is like, Charlie?

Yes.

Yes, I... I, I do.

- Then help us.
- Okay.

Protect this ballpark

and save this team!

But from what?

Mm, from who?

Come home, wanderer.

Every soul seeks to be safe

at home.

Oh, Charlie?

Wow, my kingdom
for some electrolytes.

Charlie, Charlie!

What in the world
happened last night?

Oh, my God, what happened?

Uh, the new guy
stayed late last night

to take some extra BP.

He tried using Rambo.

He got hit in the back
of the head with a fastball.

Uh, I knew I should have had
that machine replaced.

I knew that.

I found him this morning.

So Rambo...

killed Felix?

Well, it looks that way.

Lucille, I hate
to bring it up, but...

- What?
- You could be looking

at a wrongful death lawsuit.

- A big one.
- Well, that'll be it.

We'd have
to shut down the park,
then move the team.

It's the only family I got left.

Oh, no, we're not going
to let that happen.

Uh, everybody knew
the machine was faulty.

It is my fault.

Hey, so,
hypothetically speaking,

if, uh, Felix,
we know he was a good kid,

but if Felix here was, uh, high

while he was using
the equipment,

would that alleviate
some of this liability?

- Well, I guess it...
- Yeah.

It would. Why?

Well, I, uh, I think
his gum was laced.

Well, if he was on drugs,
it's easy enough to check.

It is?

Yeah, a simple reagent test.

Oh.

Retired cop.

Okay. Uh, well, hmm.

Okay, terrific.

Negative, no sign of drugs.

Wait, what?

Oh, gosh, man.
I know I was tripping so hard.

And we all saw Felix
on that mound.

He was like a guy at
a Phish concert at the Sphere.

I mean, come on,
he was tripping.

- Geez.
- Honey.

What?

Appreciate your concern,

but the last thing I wanna do

is sully this kid's reputation.

I've done enough damage already.

Lucille, this is not on you.

We're going to figure
this out, okay?

I talked to Felix.
He told me he was straight.

He wasn't lying.
Something is amiss.

We'll have more on Felix Domingo

as the story develops.

Skip.

Hell of a start to the day.

You need something?

Yeah, I do, I sure do.

So Felix in last night's game,

uh, just a gut check,

he look alright to you?

He looked great.

He was higher than a fly
on Willie Nelson's wall.

- Yeah.
- But whatever it takes.

I mean, I don't judge.

I mean, I'm working
on not judging.

Something I'm working on.

It's not all sad news today.

Some lucky citizen
has won $3 million

betting on last night's
historic Cheesemonger loss.

A five-game parlay
at 22-to-one odds

- was cashed in at a...
- Jesus.

Sad, isn't it?

Used to be fans actually rooted

for the home team.

Win or lose, we were
all in it together.

Now it's all about the odds
and working the angles.

Getting rich
by expecting the worst.

Beep beep.

Huh.

Uh, hiya, Carl.

Can I ask you a question?

- Yeah, yeah, yeah.
- Uh,

do you know if anyone had
a, uh, a grudge against Felix?

'Cause, uh, I think
someone spiked his gum.

Why would anybody have it out
for the new guy?

Oh, wow!

Super cool!
Is that a...

That's a no grill, huh?
Is it solid gold?

My aunt died and left me
a real big inheritance.

Yeah, bullshit.

I won it playing trivia
down at the, uh, pub.

Obvious bullshit.
I mean, I don't even need

my special thing for that one.

- Whoa.
- What are you bothering me for?

I'm just a ball player,

a regular
minor league ball player.

Yeah, yeah, no.

I, uh, I know you are.

Nobody wanted the kid
to get hurt, alright?

Right, obviously.

Yeah, no, obviously not.
It's just, uh...

y-you did, right?

You-you spiked his gum.

Just to get him
out the game though,

and then he went and
fucked around with Rambo.

And the whole thing was
a freak accident.

I mean, I-I feel bad
about it, really.

I believe you, I do.

I-I just, um, I'm trying
to square, you know...

I mean, here's Felix,
he's throwing a no hitter.

Why would you want him
out the game?

Strip club after
the game, fellas!

- Hell yeah!
- Drinks on your boy!

What's good, ball girl?

I see.

They spiked the gum
that killed Felix

so that they could,
uh, lose the game
and win the bet.

It's not like we're talking
criminal masterminds here.

All they gotta do is check
these guys' bank accounts.

Yeah, but you need
a search warrant

to check a bank account.

Right now, there isn't
enough evidence to get one.

I-I-I don't understand.

They're just going to let
the ballpark close?

That doesn't seem right.

I mean, what about an autopsy?

There's gotta be
some kind of, uh, evidence

what kind of drug it was that
they put inside Felix's gum, no?

Well, I asked my old partner
to send me a copy of the report.

It should be
getting here any minute.

Hmm.

Okay, here's the autopsy report.

Let's see.

Uh, yep, death
by blunt force trauma.

Let's see, did they
even do a tox report?

Hey, uh, could I take
a look at that?

Oh, sure, be my guest.

Oh, thanks.

I wanna save
that ballpark too, you know?

My old man used to take me
there every weekend.

There's nothing better
than a Sunday double header

with your pops.

Well, I don't even really know
what I'm looking at here,

but I think it says here
that the ball was going

over a hundred miles an hour.

What's that?

The ball that killed Felix,

according to this
coroner's report,

it looks like the skull fracture

was caused by a ball

that was over
a hundred miles an hour.

Wow.

I didn't think Rambo had
that kind of speed in him.

Yeah, no shit, Benny.
No shit.

Ah, shise.

Come on, Rambo,
you Cold War relic.

You can do better than that.

Concentrate, concentrate!

Let 'er rip!

- Hey.
- Oh!

Benny said you wanted to talk.

Yeah, hi, Russ.

Quick question.

Is there anyone on either team

that can throw over a hundred?

Nah, anyone throws that fast,
they're not doing it here.

That's a ticket to the show.

Yeah, that's what I thought.

Why you wanna know?

It's just the coroner, you know,

he had mentioned
that the fastball

that killed Felix, uh,

well, it was going
over a hundred at least.

And, uh, well, we all know
that Rambo here can't do that,

and, and you can't either, so...

Thanks a lot.

No, I'm sorry,
I didn't mean it like that.

It's just, you know,
the other day

you had said that
you lost your fastball

and you hadn't been
able to throw over 90
for years now.

So, uh, you weren't lying.

I don't know.
I mean, all things considered,

I figured you were
the guy to ask.

Uh, thinking to myself,

I mean, what am I
overlooking, you know?

Look, I gotta go home
and get some shuteye, alright?

I'm pitching
my last game tomorrow.

Hey, how about after the game,

I buy you a round,

celebrate your victory, huh?

I'd like that.

I'm not counting on it,
but I'd like it.

Never say die.

This is the end
of the road for me.

Like you said,
my fastball's gone

and it's not comin' back.

Bullshit.

I wish it was, Charlie.

I wish it was.

I don't have
to remind any of you

that this is Russ's last game.

It's probably our team's
last game in this great park.

So let's go out there
and stop this losing streak!

Yeah, yeah.

Let's win for Russ.

Yeah!
Let's fucking go, Rocket!

For Felix.

- For the Lubinski family.
- Yeah, that's right!

And for these fans

who have suffered with us
for all these goddamn years.

- Yeah, right!
- Yeah!

And while we're at it,

let's win one for

good old-fashioned monogamy.

Whoo!

Yeah!

Hey, so what was it?

- What was what?
- Well, you know,

what cleared your head
and got you that, uh,

your fastball back?

What?

Well, uh, the other night
at the pub, you know,

you said that
you lost your fastball
and it was the truth.

But then last night, you said

the same thing,
and it was a lie.

So sometime in between,
something happened

that fixed that mental block
and got you your fastball back.

What was it?

Charlie, no offense,

but you sound
bat shit crazy right now.

Well, cards on the table,

I know that you guys
have been throwing

these last few games,
and I also know

that you spiked Felix's gum.

Your buddy Carl admitted it.

Jesus, Carl.

Gotta say I didn't think
you were involved.

Nah, 'cause, you know,
you didn't play

during those last five losses
that scored you

the big payout,
and also 'cause I liked you.

But then, then
I put it together.

You were supposed to start
that last game, not Felix.

That's why the guys
were trying to get him out

and get you in.

Alright, fine.

We threw those last few games.
So what?

Have you seen our record?

We were going to lose anyway.

Gosh, cashing in
on your own failure.

That's where you ended up.

So you're born with this
one-in-a-million gift.

And then, what?

You throw it all away
like a total fucking loser.

Aha.

I see.

So that's what Felix told you
the night you murdered him,

and that's what got you

your 100-mile-per-hour
fastball back.

Hearing the truth.

I'm about to go prove

in front of a stadium
full of people

that I'm all washed up
with nothing left in this arm,

so you got nothing, ball girl.

Why don't you go sit
your nosy ass down

and enjoy our final loss?

Yeah.

Oh, uh, before I forget,
there's this, uh,

a big league scout
in the stands.

Bullshit.
Pathetic.

Alright, alright alright...

Why would a scout be
at a Cheesemongers game?

Skip said something
about an open roster slot

and needing some bullpen heat

there in the show,
whatever that means.

Anyway, I probably shouldn't
have said anything.

I don't wanna get in your head.

Your starting pitcher...

For the very last time...

our hometown hero...

"Rocket" Russ Waddell!

"Rocket" Russ Waddell readies

for his first pitch.

The entire ballpark is
on the edge of their seats

hoping for one more flash
of that classic Rocket heat.

Hey, batter, batter, batter,
batter, batter, batter, batter!

Alright, everybody up, let's go!

- Rocket!
- Rocket!

Rocket! Rocket!

Rocket!
Rocket!

Rocket! Rocket!

Rocket! Rocket!

Rocket!
Rocket!

Rocket! Rocket!

Rocket!
Rocket!

Rocket! Rocket!

Rocket!
Rocket!

Rocket! Rocket!

Rocket! Rocket!

Strike!

Oh!

Go, go, go, go!

Yeah!

I want all exits guarded.

Ball girl was right.

Our suspect is
"Rocket" Russell Waddell.

Show 'em what you got, kid.

Rocket! Rocket!

Rocket!
Rocket!

Rocket! Rocket!

Rocket!
Rocket!

Rocket! Rocket!

Rocket!
Rocket!