All language subtitles for Major League II

Hello, everybody. Harry Doyle here,
welcoming all you Wahoo maniacs

to the year's first session
of Tribe Talk.

As you know, the Indians had
a Cinderella season last year,

despite the fact that toxic owner,
Rachel Phelps,

wanted the team to lose
so she could move it to Florida.

The Indians won
the American League East

for the first time
since divisional play began.

Rachel's gone now, thank God,

having sold the team to retired
Indian third baseman Roger Dorn,

after a long, hard-fought series
of negotiations.

I might be willing to go
as high as a hundred.

- One-twenty.
- One-twenty? You just started at 110.

- One-thirty.
- Rachel, this isn't fair.

- One-forty.
- One-thirty.

- One-fifty.
- We'll take it.

You're good, Dorn.

Even with Dorn in the owner's box,

the Indians are solid favorites
to repeat in the East,

and go all the way
to the World Series.

And why not?

Look at the lineup
we have coming back.

First of all, the Cuban Crusher,

the voodoo man
with the bad attitude, Pedro Cerrano.

Even though his training methods
were a little unusual,

Pedro finished in the top five
in homers, RBIs,

slugging percentage
and total baldness.

Also back is center fielder
Willie Mays Hayes,

who came out of nowhere to lead
in great catches and stolen bases.

We're told he starred in an action movie
during the off-season,

where he not only did his own stunts,
but even his own acting.

And don't forget catcher
and team leader, Jake Taylor.

Despite chronic knee problems,
he had a fine season

and beat out the bunt that drove
in the run that won the division title.

Finally, one of the brightest,
young stars in the game today,

Rick "Wild Thing" Vaughn.

Vaughn began the season in the uniform
of the California Penal League,

and had some control problems
early on.

But with the help
of a pair of black horn-rims,

he went on to set
a Major League record for strikeouts

in one season by an ex-car thief.

All in all, things couldn't be
looking better for the Tribe.

Hey.

- Guys, we signed Jack Parkman.
- What?

- Parkman?
- We signed Parkman.

- All right.
- This is great.

- Hey. Add 42 homers to our lineup.
- At least.

Guys, this is the year
we go all the way.

All the way.

All the way. All the way.

All the way. All the way.

All the way. All the way.

Listen.

Sounds like a Harley.

It's gotta be him.

♪ Wild thing ♪

♪ You make my heart sing ♪♪

False alarm.

- Hey.
- Look at that.

Hi, gang. How's it going?

Appreciate you all coming out.
Good to see you.

Yeah. Nice outfits.
Those haircuts are cute.

- Benny, I thought you were still in jail.
- I escaped.

Attaboy. What do you say, big guy?

See you in the show someday.

Cute?

Say it ain't so, Rick.

Yeah, right.

Jake, how you doing?

Fine. Good to see you again, Lou.

How's the leg?

Good. Good.

- Feel like a kid again, Skip.
- Good.

There's a rookie I'll need your help with
for a couple of weeks.

Baker.

Jake, this here is Rube Baker.

I want you to help him
with a little problem he has.

All right.

Mr. Taylor? I knew you know
from which you speak,

I'm sure you'll help me with
my problem, which I'm bound to beat.

There ain't no odds
against being yourself,

no matter what the percentages are.

Let me ask you something, Rube?

Yeah. I bet you're wondering
how I get the nickname Rube.

No, I got a good idea how that happened.
What exactly is your problem?

Well...

Hell, that's the biggest damn car
I ever saw.

♪ Everything I do ♪

♪ Got to be funky ♪

♪ Everything I do
People, now ♪

♪ Got to be funky ♪

- Say, Jake. Whoo-hoo!
- Hey, Willie.

♪ You just might get
Some funk on you ♪♪

Who are they?

They are our center fielder.

- What's up?
- Hey, hey, Willie.

- What's up? Hey, welcome back.
- What's up?

Nice little 'do there.
What, you running for office?

No, I'm just trying to clean up my act.

Can't play the street punk
when you're making seven figures.

Who's that?

It's gotta be Parkman,
our new free agent.

Nice jacket.

Come on, let's check it out.

Say, Parkman, even though
we're competing for the same position,

I'm glad they signed you.
You're a good ballplayer.

Cut the crap, Taylor.
I don't like you, you don't like me.

I just hope you don't blame
your bum knees when I take your job.

You want me to bean him?

I'll just beat him out for the job.

"Avoid spraying toward open flame.

Contents under pressure.

Shake can before use.

Press... "What?

Jeez.

I'm sorry, Mr. Cerrano.

I just... Heh.

You are forgiven.

I love you all. Ha-ha-ha.

Jake.

Lou.

My great and good friends.

How you doing?

- You okay, Pedro?
- Okay?

I free and clear.

Did he say free and queer?

Clear.

Free of anger and hostility
that run Cerrano's life. Uhn!

Meditation is key.

Five months...

under Master Hama Masasuri.

No more voodoo, just much peace
and wideness of love.

At one with all.

- Whoo! Get up there, baby.
- It's beautiful, man.

Another jack job.

Fore.

- Three-70.
- Whoopee.

Hey, Hayes, what are you doing?

Going deep.

- I buffed up this winter.
- You needed to to wear all that jewelry?

Just remember,
you're our leadoff man.

You're paid to get on base,
not hit home runs.

Keep the ball on the ground.

That's enough for the first day.

After five pitches?

Hey.

What was that last pitch you threw me?

I call it the Eliminator.

It's a combination screwball,
split-finger.

- You name your pitches now?
- Yeah.

Sort of a marketing thing, you know,
like Nolan Ryan's Express.

I'm also working on a forkball,
slider combination.

Well, whatever happened to the boring,
old 96-mile-an-hour fastball?

- The Terminator?
- Whatever.

It'll be there when I need it.

Jake, I don't wanna become
one of these one-year phenoms

who burns himself out
throwing nothing but gas.

I gotta start thinking in terms
of a career, not just a season.

You work with Rube
on his little problem yet?

Now, step and throw.

Damn it, catcher.
That's a damn good play.

Well, he looks pretty sharp to me.
What exactly is his problem?

Uhn! Doggone it.

Jeez, Louise.

Duke.

Rube.

What's going through your head before
you throw the ball back to the pitcher?

I'm thinking,
"I don't wanna screw this up."

What are you thinking when you throw a
strike to nail the runner at second base?

- I'm not thinking nothing. I just throw it.
- You see what I'm getting at?

You want the pitcher to pitch
from second base?

Aw...

If we walk somebody, this guy's gonna
turn it into an inside-the-park home run.

Yeah. Whoa.

- Your first spring babe, Vaughn?
- Who, her?

- Yeah.
- No.

There she is.

Hoo-wee. Shucky-ducky now.

Excuse me, gentlemen.

- Hi, baby.
- Hey, Flan, how are you?

- Good to see you.
- You too.

Good news.
General Cereals people are interested...

- Money's gone to his head.
- Yeah.

Let's go take a ride in my limo.

There it is, man.

Watch this.

Hey.

Willie Mays Hayes is Black Hammer.

Jesse "The Body" Ventura
is White Lightning.

Together, they're taking on the mob.

Mine fell the hardest.

Mine are the deadest.

These guys play for keeps.

Black Hammer, White Lightning,
coming to a theater near you.

That spot didn't show
the real dramatic parts,

like where they kill my boa constrictor
and I vow revenge.

- Hey, you're limping.
- A little.

What about you?

I'm a broken-down, has-been catcher.
You're our leadoff man.

I sprained my knee
doing a stunt for the flick.

Don't worry about it.
I'm gonna be fine by opening day.

Besides, I'm a power hitter now.

- What do you call that garbage?
- That's the Eliminator.

- The Eliminator?
- I got a new one I'll show you.

Get a piece of it, I'll let you name it.

I'd, call it the Masturbator.

Excellent pitch, man.

Cerrano, fool.

The ball and blue sky.

Beautiful.

Like lonely snowflake.

Now, just pretend the pitcher's
the second baseman.

Golly. Jeez.

Goldarn it to heck.

Shoot.

I couldn't hit sand if I fell off a camel.

Criminently.

They're gonna send me back to Omaha,
and I don't even live there.

I'm gone. I'm buzzard bait.

They're gonna cut me.

I know they're gonna cut me.

- Cripes.
- Rube?

You look at Playboy all the time,
don't you?

No, I don't just look at it.
I read the articles.

Yeah, sure you do.

I do.

I especially like where they tell you
what the girls' interests are.

Like Betsy loves surfing, gardening
and working on motorcycles.

You memorize them?

Yup, I guess I do.

Bingo.

Just do what I told you, okay?

Could you throw that back
to the pitcher, please?

Thank you.

Louise teaches aerobics
and loves short shorts,

unicorns, and reruns
of Three's Company.

- Her favorite sports are...
- High.

Air hockey, checkers,

and calf roping. Whoo! Ha!

Yeah.

Wow, Willie's really got some power.

Off a guy who'll be bagging groceries
in a couple weeks.

Ooh.

It must be tough to be old.

You're out.

Hey.

Good play, man.

I love it.

You...

Damn.

One more year.

Yes.

Rube.

What are you doing?

If there's a red tag in there,
that means I'm out of here, right?

There's always next year,
and you're young.

Yeah, what the hell?

My mama always said it's better
to eat shit than not eat at all.

Look at it this way. In the minor leagues,
you'll play every day.

- Think of all the valuable...
- I made the team.

I made the team. We did it.

Pedro, guess what, man.

I'm on the rooster.

This team
has completely lost its focus.

You think April is too early
for a Roger Dorn Night?

Lou? Hi, Roger.

I just wanna say
I think carrying three catchers...

is probably a good idea.

Hold it a second, Jake.

Jake.

You're a very valuable part
of this organization.

The way you helped that kid
with his problem, that was impressive.

He's got talent. With a little patience,
he might even become a ballplayer.

What Dorn's trying to say, Jake,
is we're not carrying three catchers.

We'd like you to stay on as a coach.

We're gonna need you.

- You'll make a great coach.
- Screw you, Dorn.

I'm not a coach, I'm a ballplayer.

Why don't you find some shmuck
with his belly hanging over his belt

and pastrami sticking out
of his mouth?

I'm done with baseball.

Called everywhere.

Nobody's looking for
a 41-year-old catcher with bad knees.

Well, it's not like
you don't have other options.

Alan Bellows wants you
to join his brokerage firm.

Jack Pursoff wants me to head up
one of his Pepsi distributorships.

And you'd be close to home.

I'd make a hell of a lot more money
than I would as a coach.

So, what if I never made it
to a World Series?

Well, I think it's pretty obvious
what you ought to do.

I'll tell Dorn I begged you to come back.

Thanks, Skip.

- Hey.
- How you doing?

Hola, how you doing, man?

Yeah. Hey. How you doing?

All right, all right, all right. Yeah.

- Hi, baby.
- Hi, sweetie. How are you?

I've set up a little photo op
with an inner-city youth group.

You mean, a gang? No problem. I used
to be in one. I was in four or five.

No, these are first-time offenders.
They're trying to keep out of gangs.

All you have to do is pose with a juvenile
hall kid and the education director.

Do we really have to do this now?

Are you kidding? It doesn't hurt
to show you have a social conscience,

that you're giving back
to the community. You'll be fine.

The final boarding call

for U.S. Air Flight 178,
heading to Pittsburgh.

- All U.S. Air passengers...
- Man. It's him.

- Hi, Rick.
- Nikki, how are you?

- What's he doing in a suit?
- Fine.

This is Frankie.
He's one of my students.

He won room inspection five days
in a row to be in this picture.

- You could eat prime rib off my floor.
- Way to go, Frankie.

Just a minute, Rick.
He has a problem with his flash.

Is that your new girlfriend?

Yeah. She's also my agent.

Major babe.

Does she like riding on your Harley?

- Is this gonna happen or what?
- Ready to go.

Don't tell me you sold the Harley.

Flannery has been great for me.
I'm not the bum I used to be.

I liked the bum you used to be.

- Okay, that's it. Thanks a lot.
- Great.

- Take care, Frankie.
- All right.

- So long, kids.
- Bye.

See you later, Nikki.

Hey, Rick.
I thought you might want this back.

You left it at my apartment.

I don't have much use for it now,
but thanks.

See you, Rick.

So long, Nikki.

Come on.

Folks, my next guest is about the
closest thing baseball has to a rock star.

From the Cleveland Indians,
Rick "The Wild Thing" Vaughn.

Rick, we love you!

Let's get right to it.

This whole Wild Thing label
that you've been saddled with,

this has led a lot of people to believe
that you're borderline scary.

Like you're a psycho. But you seem
like a straight shooter.

- Yeah.
- Where does this reputation come from?

From what I've read, you had
some mix-up as a kid with the cops.

And is that something
you wanna talk about?

No.

Sure. I saw this new Corvette...

took it for a drive.

Just kind of boys-being-boys
kind of thing?

Through four states.

Four states? That's a lot.

It ended in a high-speed chase.

Had it up there around 140 or so.

When I got out of the car,
the cop had a real attitude.

They were gonna throw the book at me,
but my cousin dates a judge in Colorado.

He's a transvestite.

- The judge or your cousin?
- The judge.

Um...

Let's take a little break.
More with Rick right after this.

It's cool, it's overcast,

and it's foggy on opening day
here in Cleveland.

Hello, everyone. I'm Harry Doyle

along with my friend and partner,
Monte What's-His-Name,

giving a Wahoo welcome
to all the Cleveland faithful.

It's a brand-new season
and a new team spirit,

as novice owner Roger Dorn has made
two very savvy front office moves.

Acquiring free-agent slugger
Jack Parkman,

and announcing his own retirement,
eliminating a huge hole at third base.

Hell, no. Not a great spring.

- Three and 24.
- So what?

They had a bad spring.
They did the same thing last year.

The important thing is that Parkman
and Hayes are killing the ball.

Cerrano, he's lying in the weeds.

Rick Vaughn, he's off to a slow start.

But look out, they're gonna erupt.

They're gonna bust loose.
They're gonna do it.

They're gonna bust loose.

- They're a powder keg.
- Juggernaut.

- Okay.
- Thank you.

Getting close now,
as the Indians begin their drive

for a world championship
against the hated Chicago White Sox,

who swept the Tribe right out
of the playoffs last year.

And listen to the roar of the crowd
as the Indians take the field.

Mow them down, Wild Thing!

Did you ever have that feeling
you were just born for greatness?

Rick Vaughn
gets the starting call today.

We're told he matured a lot
over the winter.

Apparently, he's bathing now.
Congratulations, Rick.

As you know, Monte, Vaughn's
been working on new pitches,

the Eliminator and the Humiliator, to
complement his fastball, the Terminator.

I heard that.

Dynamite drop-in, Monte.
That broadcast school has really paid off.

We're ready for the opening pitch.

Vaughn winds and fires.

It's a strike, and we're underway.

All right, Ricky. Good job!

Great pitch, man. Great pitch.

Do it again. Come on, let's see it.

God, he was... He was...

Yeah?

Vaughn winds for the 0-2 pitch.

Called strike three.

Called strike six.

Called strike nine. Inning over.

- Yeah, all right!
- Yeah!

Break out the champagne.

It's in the bag.

The fat lady has left the building.

So Vaughn sets down the White Sox
in the top of the first.

Willie Mays Hayes steps in.

Hayes had a great spring,
adding the long ball to his speed.

Now batting,
double zero, Willie Mays Hayes.

Willie swinging his shillelagh
at the plate.

And Hayes is calling his shot.
He's pointing toward the left bleachers.

All right, Willie. Right here, Willie!

What's he pointing at?

What?
Does he know someone up there?

Hayes ready at the plate.
Alaimo into his windup and the pitch.

Here's a swing and a drive
to left and deep.

Way back.
Belmonti racing toward the wall.

This one has a chance.

It's going, going...

Not quite gone.

Ha-ha. That had to be the wind.

- It must've been the wind.
- Yeah.

Top of the third. Vaughn's been
in trouble a couple times,

but has held the White Sox with his
new assortment of breaking stuff.

Humiliator lined to left, a base hit.

Eliminator lined to right,
another base hit.

There's some real pus lined to center.

Termini is coming around third.
The throw is cut off. He'll score.

And it's 1-0, White Sox.

- What?
- What?

They're hammering the slow crap.

Think your arm could stand the strain
of throwing a fastball?

Look, I'll throw it.
You just make sure you catch it.

I will if it ever gets to me.

God knows what Vaughn's
gonna throw next.

He's running out of names.

That'll bring up Hank Shaw

who led the Sox in homeruns
and RBIs last year.

I don't know how he keeps his mind
on baseball,

what with the paternity suits.

- Those are parking tickets.
- Yeah.

Come on, Wild Thing!

Vaughn has his sign and comes set,
checks the runner at second.

Here's the pitch to Shaw.
Swung on and belted to deep right field.

Back goes Cerrano.

He'll need a rocket up his ass to catch
this one. That baby is out of here.

Yes!

That looked like the Terminator,
only slower.

Maybe it was his Out-of-Stater,
or it could've been the Hibernator.

That baby is definitely going away
for the winter.

Whatever for Vaughn,
it might be "see you later."

He's probably gonna become
a spectator.

Didn't have much on that one.

Four-nothing, Chicago.
Hayes at the plate.

And he's calling it again.

- Come on. This time for sure!
- Come on!

Forget that crap.
Put the ball on the ground.

Alaimo looking in for the sign
and goes into his windup.

Swing and a drive to deep left.
It could go this time.

Yes! Yes!

Belmonti back to the wall again.
Way back!

- Come on!
- Come to Papa.

It is...

Come to Papa!

Caught.

Bite me, Belmonti!

Of course, he could be pointing
at the left fielder.

Bottom of the sixth.

Jack Parkman stepping in
with runners at the corners.

Parkman with two hits already today.

Martinez leads away from first,
Warren from third.

Parkman doing his little shimmy.

It drives the women here
in Cleveland crazy.

Vargas, the little left-hander,
set at the belt.

Here's the pitch. Parkman swings

and drives one to deep left center.
Looks like he got it all.

It is goodbye, Mr. Rawlings.

And the Indians pull to within one
at 4 to 3.

Way to go, Jack! I bought him.

Welcome to New Jack City!

I told you that this guy
will make a difference.

- Yeah!
- Yeah, yeah, yeah!

- Jacksonville. Jack the Ripper.
- Jackmate!

- Jumping Jack Flash!
- Jack Attack!

I used to hate Parkman
when he was with the A's.

It's amazing how a new uniform
can change your attitude about a guy.

He's still a dick.

- Now batting...
- Last of the ninth.

Two outs and a tying run at first.
And Pedro Cerrano steps into the box.

Cerrano, hitless today,
and pretty much all spring.

Martinez takes his lead
from first again.

Here's the pitch.

Cerrano swings.
And it's a high fly ball to center field.

And it hits a bird.
The ball drops into right,

the bird into short center.

Cerrano rounds first
and heads for center field?

- Hey! Where are you going?
- Go, go, go!

Cerrano kill a living thing.

Forget the damn bird! Run, run!

He's alive.

Martinez around third, heading for home,
and so is the bird.

- Bye-bye, birdie.
- Sorry, but you're out, Mr. Gandhi.

Too late. Run doesn't score.

Ball game's over.

- What?
- What?

Cerrano, come on!

Well, the Indians
drop a tough one, 4 to 3,

as Pedro Cerrano
doubles off a pigeon

and then is tagged out
administering CPR

before the tying run could score.

- It's a funny game?
- At least the bird survived.

Who cares? It's a rat with wings.

Two months.

Two months?

- What do you mean?
- You have enough money

to run the team for two months.
You paid too much for the franchise.

There's another four months in
the season. What am I supposed to do?

Increase your profits any way you can.

What the hell is this crap?

Well, Roger Dorn has done a little
redecorating around the ballpark.

The outfield walls now look like
the Yellow Pages.

And any of you folks having trouble
finding a good proctologist

might wanna come here and check
out the area around the 375-foot sign.

As for the game,
we got a real nail-biter here tonight.

It's a lot closer than that 11 to 2 score.

Mr. Vaughn.
I thought you were starting tonight.

- I did.
- Sorry.

I didn't turn it on
until the second inning.

I can't believe you're upset
about what the valet said.

I am because Billy Ritter
hit a three-run homer off me.

He was due.

I mean, the man has been in the majors
for seven years.

- He's never hit a home run.
- Never?

- I thought you knew.
- Aww.

You should throw fastballs
until you're sure of your other pitches.

I did that tonight.

I threw Ritter an 87-mile-an-hour fastball,
and he crushed it.

Last year, I averaged 96.

Now I reach back,
and it's just not there.

I can't believe it.
I've forgotten how to throw heat.

Look, you'll make a few adjustments.

In a week or two,
you'll be laughing about this.

And don't worry
about the endorsements.

It's not your ERA
they're gonna be worried about.

It's your image that's important.

Wholesome...

clean-cut...

all-American.

While on the croquet lawn, one must be
careful not to offend one's opponent

with an onset of unwanted odor.

Bully.

That's why I use Right Guard
sport stick.

Maximum protection
against odicious,

odourophously, olflacty emanations.

That's a cut.

Let's just cut that.

It's odiously, odiferous,
olfactory emanations.

Right.

Odouroforous, ofolactory
emaranations.

Odourforous, oflactonal nominations.

Odouroforous, ofiloctagyl,
emancipations.

♪ Whoa
Boom bapa boom ♪

♪ Whoa
Boom bapa boom ♪

♪ Whoa, boom ♪♪

So Weaver doubles off
the Zippo Bail Bonds sign.

That's another team record
for Rick Vaughn,

the fifth consecutive extra base hit
in the inning.

- Out!
- And he's out by an eyelash at third.

Cerrano doing some interesting
limbering-up exercises in right.

What a pansy.

- Here's a fly ball hit to right.
- Shit.

Easy play for Cerrano,
under it now, and makes the...

No. That ball is off his glove
and out of here.

Well, credit Cerrano with an RBI,
and that play could be a finalist

in the Trojan Inn's
Boner of the Week Award.

Take 87.

And action.

Right Guard sport stick.

Anything less...

would be uncivilized.

Upside down.

Upside down.

Thank you. Cut.

Hey, Rick, is it true
you're moving to the bullpen?

Of course not.
Where do you guys get this stuff?

Hey, Wild Thing.

You're still the best. You stunk
at the beginning of last year too.

- Thanks, Frankie.
- We don't believe what they say

in the papers,
that you're a fluke and all that stuff.

- That you lost your fastball.
- And that you got no heart.

- You want an autograph or something?
- Yeah, that'd be great.

- Hey, Nikki.
- You got something Vaughn can sign?

Hi, Rick.

Hi.

Now batting, number 21, John Lake.

Listen, I'm sorry to hear
they took you out of the rotation.

- It's only temporary.
- You're just in a slump.

- You'll bounce back.
- Yeah.

Well, we better get back.

Hey, Nikki.

I'm sorry I didn't call you
after last season.

It's for the best.

We've both moved on to better things.

You seeing anybody?

Yeah, yeah.

This'll crack you up.
He's from Chicago.

Big White Sox fan.

Boy, does he hate you.

- Good luck, Rick.
- Thanks.

Today's paid attendance, 2714.

What a great woman.

Goddamn White Sox fan.

Such a nice personality.

I bet he loves the idea
of me in the bullpen.

- Really sexy too.
- I've met the woman.

I don't need a description, all right?

A White Sox fan.

Women.

You can't live without them,
and they can't pee standing up.

Well, fans, the Indians about
to extend their winning streak to...

Two.

This is it. Vaughn's coming out of it.

I know he's coming out of it.
This demotion to the bullpen

- has got to have been a wake-up call.
- Rise and shine.

- This is the day we turn it around.
- Turn it around, Rick.

We're in the top of the ninth,
leading 10-7.

Bases loaded. Two down.

And Rick Vaughn has come on
to try and nail it down

against Felipe Aguilar,
a dangerous right-handed batter.

Here's the pitch.

Shit.

- Hot damn, no!
- No. No. No.

Out of the game.

If that's not Shaquille O'Neal in left,
that baby's out of here.

- Whoa, grab her. Man, get out of here.
- No!

You rotten bums!

You overpaid weenies!

Wild Thing, you make my butt sting!

I detest you!

You're all garbage!

All of you!

Back up the truck. Back it up!

Jack, being new to the club,

how do you feel about the way things

- have gone for the Indians so far?
- I'm the only winner on the team.

The rest of them are losers,
either by choice or by birth.

Jack, how about this? Wait a minute.

Think you can help me
with my fastball?

We'll have to deal
with some deeper issues first.

I don't have any deeper issues.
I like to keep things right on the surface.

Well, sometimes,
there are little surprises.

Tell me, Rick,
what goes through your mind

when you throw your fastball?

I'm wondering if it'll end up
in the catcher's mitt or in some guy's den.

Did you used to think this way?

I didn't usually think at all.
Takes a lot out of you.

Well, then, Rick, let's get down to it.

The real problem here goes back
to when you stole that car.

You wanted to be caught,
didn't you? Punished?

You wouldn't have thrown
the 0-2 fastball to Fields

when he'll chase
the two-strike curveball in the dirt.

I'd thrown him two curveballs.
The second one, he hit a 436-feet foul.

Better than 520-feet fair.

Parkman, I saw your little interview
in this morning's paper.

You're benched for two games.

- If you rip your teammates again...
- Save your breath.

What did you say?

You ought to listen
to the radio more, Lou.

Your biggest gun
just got traded to Chicago.

As a matter of fact, your only gun.

Au revoir.

How could you sell my best player
without asking me?

I'm on my ass.

I'm tapped out. I'm not gonna be able
to make next month's payroll.

Jeez.

But I didn't sell Parkman outright.

I got you an outfielder.
He used to play with the Giants.

Franklin?

Not those Giants.

And so Hiroshi "Kamikaze" Tanaka,

recently of the Tokyo Giants,

knocks himself cold
for the second time this week.

Maybe in Japan, that's actually better
than catching the ball.

Personally, I think he's just trying
to get out of the lineup.

Pedro Cerrano. How you doing?

Who your master?

My master?

It's the great Hama Masasuri.

Thank you.

A ball player must be a warrior.

Not a monk.

Aah!

All right, you guys. Let's listen up.

We won a game yesterday.

If we win one today, that's two in a row.

If we win one tomorrow,
that's called a winning streak.

It has happened before.

So let's see some hustle.
Let's jack it up a little.

I got a feeling things
are about to turn around for us.

My God.

Hello, boys.

You don't mind if I come in
and visit with you for a moment, do you?

This clubhouse is off-limits to everyone
but Indian personnel.

- That does include the owner, doesn't it?
- What?

I just bought the team back this morning
at a substantial profit.

I retained Roger here
as the general manager.

But the money
really means little to me.

I have more than enough.

This is more personal.

Last year,
by some impossible fluke,

you ruined a beautiful dream.

Now, you're going down in flames,

and I wanna be there
when you go splat.

Keep up the good work, gents.

Miss Phelps?

You.

Come on, you're not gonna let her
get you down, are you?

You guys won last year
just to spite her.

Maybe she's just what we need.

Skip,
they were a different team last year.

Taylor, it's not your job
to make excuses.

That's all you guys do good!

It's either a leg thing...

or a spiritual thing,
or a psychological thing,

or a heart attack.

- Who used heart attack?
- Me.

Hey.

Doctors say
I gotta take some time off

so I want you to manage the team
for the rest of the year.

You've gotta be kidding, Lou.
I don't have any experience managing.

You're one of the smartest players
I ever coached.

Guys all look up to you.

Tell Dorn you'll take the job.

Look on the bright side.

Things couldn't get any worse.

Hey, guys.

I got some good news for you.

This morning at 9:10 a.m.,

I activated myself.

What you doing? Schoup.

Hey.

What is this?

Buddha, samurai, okay.

Peaceful inside.

Outside, warrior.

I love you, man.

I love you too much.

You know, you have no...

You have no...

Marbles.

- Marbles?
- Marbles.

You have no marbles.

Hey, relax.

Marbles?

Hello, Tribe fans.

Welcome back
to Major League Baseball.

Sort of.

Paid attendance today is 1412.

Some of them were driven away by that
10-run first inning the Red Sox put up.

Take over, Monte.

I'm in the bag.

Me?

Fly ball.

Caught.

I can't believe
we gotta play a doubleheader.

All right, let's get going.
Come on, let's get something started.

It's okay, Pedro.
The guy made a great play?

- Tough luck, man.
- Come on. Look alive, look alive.

Don't you think
you better get out to the bullpen?

- Right now?
- Yeah.

- There's somebody left in the bleachers.
- Who cares? Get out there.

Hey, Vile Thing!

I think I loathe you!

You didn't think I'd abandon you,
did you, Vaughn?

You human piece of cow flop!

You big steaming pile
of mastodon dung!

Bring out the pooper-scooper!

You bush-league, no-talent,
flash-in-the-pan choke artist!

Hey, where you going, Vaughn?
You looking for your Terminator?

Yeah, you go back in there, Vaughn.

Hey, didn't I tell you
to go to the bullpen?

- We're down by 10 runs.
- You can still get some work in.

I've had enough of that maniac
out there.

- Time! Ball hit him!
- Great.

First base!

Hayes, go run for Rube.

- My leg's hurting.
- I'll run.

Rube's hurting worse than you.
Now get in there.

If the gutless wonder doesn't have
to pitch, why should I have to run?

- Who you calling gutless, Tin Man?
- Tin man?

I got a genuine leg injury, pal.

Yeah, that limp is the best acting
you've done all year.

Well, at least I don't have some cover girl
dragging me around by my johnson.

Hey, break it up. Break it up.

What are you guys doing? This isn't nice.

Wait, don't touch me.

A fight? I'll show you a fight. Come on!

I'll take on the whole team!

Come on, you don't know how to fight!
You wusses!

Harry, wake up. Harry.

- What?
- Look.

My God.

Good news, fans.

The Indians are showing signs of life
for the first time in weeks.

As a matter of fact, they appear to be
beating the crap out of each other.

It looks like Willie Hayes
is trying to hit Rick Vaughn.

And why not?
Everybody else in the league does.

He swings and misses.

I don't know, it looks like Vaughn's
carrying his left low.

This could hurt him
in the later rounds.

So, what are we gonna do?

Toss them, I guess.

The whole team?

Yeah.

All right, you're out of here!

All of you!

Well, it's not broken.

But you're gonna have to stay off it
for a couple of days.

Lucky son of a gun.

At least you ain't gotta hang around
and play the second game, right?

Hey, Willie.

Willie.

I can't believe you said that.

Shit.

I talked to a boy in the bleachers
who hails from downtown.

He told me the most grass he's seen
in his whole life

is the patch we play on every day.

We're in the
goldarn major leagues, boys.

I don't know about you, but I've been
waiting my whole life to get here.

I'll be damned if I'll act like my best pig
died because we ain't doing so good.

I love to play baseball.

And I'll bet somewhere along the line,
you all did too.

I'm ready to play ball if you need me.

My dad figured I wouldn't amount
to much except...

Well, I never came up with anything,
but I know I can play ball a little.

A day of playing ball is better than
whatever most people do for a living.

So just put me in someplace.

Boy.

Bottom of the ninth,
Cleveland down, one to nothing.

Now batting, number 11, Rube Baker.

Baker at the plate. He's 0 for...

I don't know. Who cares?

The pitch.

Baker swings and sends a real screamer
towards short.

- Rapp up with it, fires to first.
- Safe!

Safe!

Baker beats it with a head-first slide.

So the Indians have a runner.

I think I'll wet my pants.

Way to hustle, Rube!

Let me run for him.

You sure?

Yeah.

And Taylor is gonna
send in Hayes to run.

Thanks. Thanks, dude.

Went to see his movie, but it
was only out for two and a half hours.

I was told, however,
that it was in focus.

Hayes getting his lead.

Canatella checks him.

And Hayes is going.

Here's the throw. He slides.

He's safe.

Yes.

Yeah.

So Hayes steals second.

Glad to see he remembered
where it was.

Hayes out to a good lead at second.

Canatella comes set.

Pick-off play. Hayes takes off.

He's going for third.

- Safe!
- He's in there.

Yeah, baby!

Hayes is beginning to look
like the player of old

and the Indians have something
going here.

Canatella up on the rubber again
as Hayes gets a walking lead.

Canatella winds.
Hayes is gonna steal home.

He's safe.

Yeah, baby.

So Hayes has stolen
three in a row to tie the game.

Get fired up, yeah.

Mr. Larceny is back.

Jake, Cerrano wants to bat.

Okay. Get in there.

Yeah, Pedro. Hey, Willie.

Now batting,
number 13, Pedro Cerrano.

Cerrano's gonna pinch-hit here.

And he's not taking
any practice swings.

He's either ready to hit,
or he's afraid he might kill some gnats.

Hey, Pedro, how you doing?

Shut up.

Canatella delivers.

Cerrano swings,
and it's a long drive to deep left field.

Way back. Packer to the wall.

This ball is...

gone!

And the Indians finally win one.

Well. It's only one win.

Even they can't lose them all.

Listen, Meg, I'm thinking
of coming to L.A.

I don't know if Rick and I are good
for each other right now.

The team is showing signs of life,
but his ERA's over six

and he hasn't got a clue on how
to get it back on track. It's depressing.

Ha. Serious with Vaughn?

He's a lot of fun, but I need someone
with a little more class.

My shrink was sick.

Meg, I'll call you back.

Hey.

You know, Ricky,

breaking up with a girlfriend
can be a very painful thing.

But it don't have to keep you down
for long.

I mean, let me tell you something
from my own personal experience.

I never had a regular girlfriend
like you.

But I did get kicked in the balls once
by a mule.

Now, I thought I would be hurting
for the rest of my life.

But you know what happened
the very next week?

What?

My mama died.

Hell, after that, I didn't care no more
about my balls hurting.

You see what I'm getting at?

All right.

Who led the Confederate forces
in the Battle of Gettysburg?

- Ooh, me.
- Wild Thing.

Can I talk to you for a second?

Excuse me.

What are you doing here?

I was wondering if you wanted
to go out and get a pizza.

I don't know. Um...

This is my last class, but...

Now?

I don't know, Nikki.

Nothing I try seems to work anymore.

Maybe you're working too hard
on yourself.

You used to go out there
and just let it rip.

"Here. Try and hit this."

You never used to worry
about your arm or your career.

God, you didn't even know
what a career was.

Now you're pitching like it's a job.

Yeah, I'm not sure I can get back to that.
It seems like it was so long ago.

The worst time
was when you brought the kids out.

- Aguilar lit me up like a Christmas tree.
- Don't worry about that.

That ball wouldn't have been out
of a lot of parks.

Name one.

Yellowstone?

Sorry.

Yellowstone.

Yeah.

Hey.

I know a guy who's got a bike.

Yeah!

I haven't been up here in a long time.

I hope not.

This was our spot.

Buddha, Jobu.

Jobu, Buddha.

Now, I don't want no trouble
out of you two.

Shit.

He's out!

He's out!

Nice catch. Attaboy, Rube. All right.

As general manager of this team,

I demand to know
when I'm getting a start.

There's an old-timers' game
coming up soon.

He's going!

Racking them up, baby.

- He's out!
- Yeah.

Yeah!

Mine, mine.

Run it out.

I got it.

Second base.

Safe!

Look out. Hey...

This can't be happening.

Not again.

Go, go, go!

Out!

He's out!

Pedro! Yes!

Ha, ha!

Yippee.

Hi.

Hi.

I forgot to give you this.

I don't expect you to forgive me.

I was being silly and trying
to get a laugh out of one of my friends.

I understand why you reacted
the way you did.

I hope you don't think
this is about trying to get you back.

Then what is this about?

General Cereals is throwing a party
over at the Marriott Society Center,

- and they want you to come.
- Really?

So?

Can you make it?

Probably not.

I didn't think so.

After what I did to you that day.

I messed up a great thing.

Bye, Rick.

Tribe fans, we're one out away

from our second consecutive
divisional title.

Rick Vaughn has gone
3 and 2 to Mel Koski.

Here's the pitch.

Ball four, and he walked him.

That's gonna bring the tying run
to the plate for the Toronto Blue Jays.

A little excitement here at the end.
I know I wouldn't have it any other way.

And I'm sure you folks feel the same.

Ha, ha. Yes.

Time for the old Tribe
to come unglued.

Vile Thing!

Mr. Choke Thing!

You make everything embarrassing!

You wanna finish this,
or should I bring in Dalton?

Hey, Mild Thing!

You were lucky last time!
Cerrano saved your sorry ass!

No. My arm's tired.

So Vaughn leaves,
and Taylor will go to the bullpen.

I knew you'd wimp out, Mild Thing!

You got no heart!

And forget genitalia!

- You're a gelding, Vaughn!
- Hey, shut up.

They had you fixed!

Dalton is done with his warm-up pitches,
and Pierce steps in.

Here's Dalton's first offering.
And Pierce hits it a ton.

No.

- Damn.
- Yeah!

Somebody caught it.

And the Indians win the division.

So what?

They'll blow it in the playoffs.

They will. They will.
They'll blow it in the playoffs.

Hey, man, what's wrong with you?
I put in a lot of time on this stuff.

Hey, it's Vaughn.

Hey, Vaughn.

Hey, what's up? All right.
Good to see everybody. How are you?

Whoa, easy on the fives.

Gotta protect the old pitching hand.

- It looks like we're back in the playoffs.
- Yeah!

And I know what loyal fans you are,
so I brought you a box of balls.

- Hey, come on, lay off.
- I've signed each one.

If you give your ball to Nikki,
I'll make sure the team signs.

Well, I gotta run. Nikki and I have
a little function at the Marriott.

I guess I'll see you at the ballpark.

Enjoy those. Shall we?

What a puke-head.

He didn't even have no cake.

Hey, Rick.

- Why don't you go without me?
- What are you talking about? Come on.

These kids look up to you.
They're where you used to be.

You're a hero to them.
It'd be the biggest thing in their year

if you hung out with them.

Unfortunately, you think
some party's more important.

I guess I can go back in
for a couple of minutes.

Don't insult their intelligence.

They don't wanna hang out with some
jerk that I had to drag back in there.

Just leave.

- Nikki...
- Go.

Okay. Fine.

Hey, Rick?

This party...

did she invite you?

Yeah.

It's just a business thing.

Goodbye, Rick.

Well, it's a shame
you have to go back in now.

It's a routine bypass.
I put it off as long as I could.

At least you can watch the games
on the tube.

Wrong. Doctor told me
he'll put the TV

on public broadcasting
and lose the channel changer.

He thinks baseball's bad for my health.

But I came up with plan B.

Got me a little transistor radio
with an earplug.

Bottom of the ninth, game one,
American League Championship Series.

Hayes leads away from third.

Bucek with the sign,
and now into the windup.

Hayes is coming.

Baker with a suicide squeeze.

Bucek up with the ball.
Hayes doesn't touch the plate!

- He's safe!
- And Hayes finally scores.

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

Yeah.

My God.

Yeah! Whoo-hoo!

- You ready?
- Yeah.

- You sure?
- Yeah. Feel good.

- Okay. Go get them.
- Okay.

Do you have any queens?

Go fish.

You gonna say anything to them?

No. They look nice and relaxed,
right where they should be.

Yoo-hoo!

Hello, team.

I know. You all hate me.

And given what's happened in the past,
I can't say I blame you.

But I wanted to say one thing to you
before you take the field tonight.

Heh. Believe it or not,
I'm proud of every one of you.

Willie, the all-out effort
you've given recently

has been an inspiration to us all

and proves that you've put
that one-for-18 performance

in last year's ALCS far behind you.

And, Pedro. Ho, ho.

Bashing the ball
like the Cerrano of old.

No way you won't improve
on the.138

you're hitting against Chicago
with runners in scoring position.

And, Vaughn.

You've had a really tough year.

Even though your fastball
isn't what it used to be,

there's no one the fans in Cleveland
would rather have

pitching the most important game
in Indians history than you.

The champagne is ready.

It's all in your hands.

Win tonight and the loser label
is gone forever.

Go out there and win it for Cleveland,
win it for yourselves.

And win it for me.

That ought to shrink
their little sphincters.

Bottom of the ninth
here in the Windy City.

The Tribe clinging to a 6-to-4 lead,
one out away from winning

the American League
Championship Series

for the first time in club history.
Vaughn, trying to close it out,

has taken Jack Parkman
to a full count with two men on.

Baker with a sign.

Vaughn shakes him off.

He's afraid of his fastball.

He's screwed.

You're screwed, Vaughn.

Vaughn's got the one he wants now.

- Pitch it!
- And here's the pitch.

Parkman swings and pulverizes one
to deep center field.

This ball has "bye, bye"
written all over it.

And the White Sox win, 7 to 6.

All right, big Jack!

Strike!

Home!

Safe.

- Strike three.
- Sayonara.

Don't let it get you down, Rube.
It was just one throw.

Yeah, I know, but it got me thinking.

Even Playboy's not working anymore.

Don't worry, Rube.
We'll come up with something.

Now, why don't you grab yourself
a shower, okay?

Hey, Skip.

- You got a minute?
- Sure. Come on in.

What's up?

You know, Rick, I may have to use you
tomorrow in the late innings.

Pitching staff's pretty overworked.

Yeah, so? I'll be ready.

Ready?

Ready to what? Run and hide
if the game's on the line?

I don't get it, Jake.

What's your problem?

You're the problem.

You used to be the toughest guy
on this team.

Now you're trying to prop yourself up
with the right woman or the right shrink.

You wanna be a major league pitcher?

You have to find something in yourself
that's yours and nobody else's.

You had that once, Rick.

If I were you, I'd spend the rest
of the night trying to find it again.

Without it, you're no good
to me or the team.

What an asshole.

What an amazing asshole.

I thought he was my friend.

Why is everybody so threatened
by me improving myself?

What an asshole.

- Hey, you're looking good, Lou.
- Forget about me. I'm fine.

You got to talk to the team, Jake.
Give them hell.

Let them know they're too damn good
to roll over and play dead.

Yeah, will do, Skip. And, hey...

we'll win this one for you.

Hey. Hey, Taylor.

Promise me one thing.

- Sure. What?
- When you talk to the team,

don't give them one of them corny
let's-win-one-for-Lou speeches.

I couldn't stand that.

Ha.

Yeah, promise.

Give them hell tonight, Schoupie.

Look alive there, Pedro.

Rube, I want you
to give this catalog a try.

- I think you'll like the writing.
- Thanks.

Frederick's of Hollywood?

All right, everybody listen up.

I didn't wanna have to tell you this...

but Lou's going under the knife
tomorrow.

Yeah.

He's not doing so good.

Doctor told me
he might not make it at all.

As a matter of fact,

there's a good chance
that this game tonight

might be his last experience
on this Earth.

He had a hard time talking.

But he did say this.

"Win this one for me.

I might as well have a little taste
of heaven now

just in case I'm not headed there."

Hell. When a man's lights
are about to go out,

the fat lady can't sing if it's not over!

- Yeah!
- Yeah!

- Let's go!
- Come on!

- Come on.
- Let's go.

Come on.

- Let's go.
- Come on.

- Let's go.
- Come on.

You okay, Pedro?

That was beautiful, man.

It made me realize there are more
important things in life than baseball.

I love you, man.

No.

How you doing, everybody?

Harry Doyle here welcoming
all you fanatic featherheads

to the American League
Championship Series.

Where tonight, the comeback kids
of the Cuyahoga

will begin their quest
toward a World Series berth

for the first time since 1954.

Out to spoil the fun are those
pale hosers from the Windy City

who squeaked by the Tribe
a year ago in the playoffs

and lucked out again
in the World Series.

What else can you say
about these White Sox except

at least they're not from Canada.

Guys, after tonight,
we'll be going to the World Series.

- Yes.
- Yeah, in Chicago.

Schoup ready
for the opening pitch now.

Winds and fires to Termini.
Swung on and missed.

And we're underway.

No.

Baker threw the ball down to third.

I guess he felt Wilcox didn't get
enough infield practice?

Anyway, Schoup ready again.
Winds and comes to Termini.

High, and the count
is even at one and one.

What's he doing?

Son, you throw that ball down there again
with nobody on,

you're gonna make me
very unhappy.

Come on, Baker!

Throw the damn ball!

The tulip lace bra
has ruffled underwired cups,

creating a curvier you,
for evening's bare neckline.

Whoo! Yeah!

So Baker finally gets one back
to the pitcher.

Matching crotch-less panties
are also available.

Bottom of the first, two down,
Dowling in scoring position at second.

Bucek comes set, fires to Cerrano.

Swung on and popped up.
And that'll do it.

Bottom of the third,
still nothing-nothing.

Tanaka at the plate
as Baker leads away from second.

Bucek into the stretch, delivers.

Tanaka swings and lines a base hit
to left field.

Baker around third. They're waving
him home. Belmonti up.

- Get down!
- Baker dives.

Shoot.

He scores!

And the Indians lead, 1 to 0.

Shut up. It's only one run.

Top of the fourth
as Parkman leads away from first.

Beck from second.

Schoup comes to the stretch.

Come on, Schoup.

Delivers to Shaw.

There's a swing and a drive
to deep right field.

It's off the fence.

Cerrano up with it.

Beck's gonna score.

Here comes Parkman around third.

The relay from Miller.

They've got Parkman nailed.

The ball comes loose.

And the White Sox take the lead,
2 to 1.

Welcome to the big leagues, hay seed.

Don't stand on the tracks
when the train's coming through.

Bottom of the fourth. Cerrano swings.

- Strike three. You're out.
- Misses and strikes out again.

He's a good pitch.

Top of the fifth,
Sox threatening again here.

Bases loaded, two outs,
three and two on Dawson.

Schoup has to throw a strike.

The runners will be moving
on the pitch.

Here it is.
And Dawson drives one to deep center.

This is trouble.
Way back toward the wall.

Hayes racing.

Still going at the track.

He's got it!

Not this time.

And the Indians dodge
a three-run bullet.

What a catch by Hayes.

Two down, bottom of the fifth,
2 and 1 on Hayes,

trying to pick up Miller from third.

Hey, Black Hammer.
Read some of your reviews, man.

One guy said, "Willie Mays Hayes
couldn't play dead." Ha-ha-ha.

Bucek, the big
Chicago left-hander, winds, fires...

High. Ball three to Hayes.

He also said the stunts were a joke.

You do your own stunts,
or were you afraid of getting hurt?

If I get the chance to score,
we'll see who's afraid.

- I don't intend to slide.
- You don't?

You better.
Just because your movie bombed

doesn't mean you have
to commit suicide.

Hayes waits for the 3-0 delivery.

Low. Ball four.

- I'll be home soon, honey.
- I'll be waiting, sweetheart.

So Bucek walks Hayes,
putting runners at the corners

as Baker comes to the plate
with the Indians still trailing, 2 to 1.

That little sheep back home
probably misses you, Rube?

The runners take their leads.

Bucek checks, comes to the plate.

Baker swings and lines a drive
to the left field corner.

It's off the wall.

Belmonti up with it. Miller scores.

Hayes flying around third.
Here comes the throw.

Come on!

Sucker!

Hayes scores.

And the Indians lead, 3 to 2.

I told you I wasn't gonna slide.

- You got a long way to go, pecker head.
- That's Mr. Pecker Head to you, pal.

Yeah, baby.

Ha, ha! Now we're starting to roll, boys.

Are you all right?

Yeah. I love this British stuff.

General Spenser-Ewell was a patient
of your Uncle Richard's.

Arthur and I dined...

Top of the seventh, 3-2 Indians.

But the White Sox have runners
at the corners.

Schoup is two and one to Parkman.

Parkman doing his little shimmy.

It makes the women
here in Cleveland puke.

All right, Schoup.

Schoup delivers.

Parkman swings and hammers
a long drive to deep left center field.

Back goes Hayes, way back.
It's gone.

Damn.

Yes, yes. Parkman, you stud.

And Parkman puts the Sox
back on top, 5 to 3.

You scumbag bum. Sit down!

See? I told you.

Bring out the tarp. Cover the field.

I can't watch this anymore.

It's over.

Turn the lights out.

Let's get the bulldozers in here
and turn this place into a parking lot.

- All right.
- Let's go.

That his elderly mother...

This is tragic stuff.

Bottom of the eighth, two down,
Campbell at first.

The Indians trailing by two,
down to their last four outs.

Taylor's gotta get something done

or he'll have the bottom
of the order in the 9th.

Dorn.

- Yeah?
- This guy.

- He used to pitch you inside, didn't he?
- Yeah.

Get a bat and step into one.

- What?
- Let him hit you. I need another runner.

- Are you crazy?
- It's only way you'll get in the game.

Come on, Roger,
take one for the team.

Come on, Rog.

- It's not my bat.
- Get in there.

- Let's go, Roger.
- Attaboy.

And Taylor is sending up Roger Dorn?

Dorn is 0 for the century
against this guy

but has several foul tips.

So Dorn inches in
and gets ready to face Bucek.

Here's the pitch.

God.

And Dorn is hit right in the back.

- And the Indians catch a break.
- Boo!

They'll have runners
at first and second

with Dorn representing the tying run.

Pinch runner.

No.

God, that hurts.

Markley, get in there and run for Dorn.

Dorn.

So Dorn gets his first hit of the season.

Although it doesn't look like
he's ready to leave yet.

Dorn.

Taylor may have to call the cops.

Dorn!

All right, Dorn.

Nice game.

Well, Dorn finally leaves
after putting on

a very impressive exhibition
of stretching.

And that brings up the potential
go-ahead run

in the person of Pedro Cerrano.

Pedro's left a small village
on the base paths tonight.

Parkman, my good friend,
how you doing?

Look at the scoreboard, Buddha.
I'm doing fine.

Pedro, Pedro!

Pedro, Pedro! Pedro!

Bucek's set at the belt.

Delivers. Swung on and missed.

And Cerrano is down a strike.

This guy is not messing around.

He's going right after Pedro.

From the stretch. He's ready.

- Fires.
- Strike.

Whoa, that had some quickness.

So two straight heaters,
and Cerrano is down to his last strike.

You guys.

Cerrano back in the box.

That last pitch, man.

That was beautiful.

Bucek has his sign and comes set.

Here's the pitch to Cerrano.

He swings and drives one
into deep left center.

Way back. Going, going,

gone to the upper deck!

Yes.

Not as beautiful as that, though.
Ha-ha-ha!

Way to go, Pedro.
Big knock, baby. Big knock.

And the Indians lead, 6 to 5.

Look at that scoreboard now,
grasshopper.

Yeah.

My God.

- What a shot.
- Three more outs, we go to the Series.

So what? They'll blow it in the ninth.

- Hey!
- I'm sick of you. What are you...?

You jerk-offs!

We're in the ninth.
Two down, two and one to Termini.

Once again,
the Indians one out away

from the American League
Championship. Here's the pitch.

Ball three.

And Schoup is now only one pitch away
from putting the go-ahead run on.

You gotta love this kind of excitement,
don't you, Monte?

You took the words
right out of my mouth.

Here's the pitch.

Ball four.

And the Sox have two aboard
with Beck coming up

who already
has a two-run double tonight.

Come on.

- Time.
- Time!

You ain't got nobody left, Taylor!

You're Old Mother Hubbard
and only bones in the cupboard!

- Good job.
- Thanks.

Outstanding game, Schoupie.
You fought them all the way.

Can't believe I walked
that Punch-and-Judy hitter.

We'll get them for you.

Give me Vaughn.

You mean Rick Vaughn?

Yeah.

He's pitching to Beck, not Parkman.

He wants the righty!

The Vile Thing!

The Grab-Your-Throat-
and-Choke Thing!

Blow it out your ass, lard-mouth.

My God.

My God!

My God. It's him.

Crank it, Jerry.

No.

Not that goddamn song again.

The bad seed is back!

It's Wild Thing! Aah!

♪ Wild Thing ♪

♪ You make my heart sing ♪

♪ You make everything groovy ♪

♪ Come on, Wild Thing ♪

Hey, hey! Yeah! Whoo!

Nice look. Welcome back, Vaughn.

Good to be back.

Okay. Now, Beck likes them
on the outer half, so jam him.

I want Parkman.

Parkman's not up. Beck's the hitter.

- I'll walk him.
- And load the bases for Parkman?

- What are you, nuts?
- I want Parkman.

♪ Wild thing ♪

All right. Go get him, Rick.

♪ You make everything groovy ♪♪

Hey, when the tough get going,
the going get tough.

Okay, Ricky, baby.

Time for some serious cheese!

The Roquefort rocket!

The brie bullet!

The parmesan pellet!

Yeah!

So in a surprise move,
Vaughn is on the pitch here.

Ball one!

They'll walk Beck to get to Parkman.

Obviously, Taylor's thinking...

I don't know what the hell
he's thinking.

New haircut, same dead arm.

And there's ball four,
and Beck trots to first.

So they're loaded for Jack Parkman

who's hitting just over.900
against Vaughn.

Parkman homered
the last time he faced him.

Now batting, number 15,
Jack Parkman.

You wanted him, you got him, man.

Okay, Rick. Let's get nasty.

Vaughn looking for the sign.

And he's got it.

Swung on and missed. Strike one.
And he had something on that baby.

Ooh.

Boy's pumped up.

Looks like I'm gonna have
to get serious.

Vaughn back on the slab.

Baker gives him the sign.

Vaughn ready, and here it comes.

Swung on and foul to the screen.

And Parkman wasn't fooled
on that one.

He just missed it.

I got your timing now.

I bet you don't have enough hair
on your ass to throw another one.

Well, here it comes, Parkman.

Old number one, the Terminator.

You get a piece of it,
you can rename it.

Blow this chump away.

Stay with the smoke, Rick.
Just go after him.

Mr. Parkman,
you're a great ball player,

and I'd just like to say
you're standing on the tracks,

and the train's coming through,
butt head.

To hell with the signals.

Bring it here, Ricky.

So Vaughn is nothing and two
to Parkman.

Swung on and missed.

And the Indians win it. It's all over.

The Indians win it!

Shit. Son of a bitch.

Damn, I gotta get out of this business.

Attaboy, Rick. I knew you could do it.

- Mr. Brown. Mr. Brown, calm down.
- I knew you could do it. Yeah.

I love this shit,
and I may move to England.

I told you we'd win!

I told you in spring training we'd win!

Yeah!

Indians!

- Yeah!
- Yeah!

We're going to the World Series now.

Yeah! Whoo!

Yeah!

There is no God.

Yeah!

We did it. We did it.

- We did it.
- What's up? Bring it here, baby.

Yeah. All right. Thank you. Thanks.

You were so wonderful out there, Rick.

The General Cereals reps are here.

Great game.
We'd like to offer you a three-year...

I'm sorry. You got the wrong guy.
I'm sure you make a great cereal.

But I like my hair the way it is. And I
don't get up in time to eat breakfast.

Rick, what are you saying?

You're a great gal, Flannery,
much too good for me.

Take a hike.

Nikki, hold it.

Nikki, look, I know I was a jerk the other
night, but I want to make it up to you.

Don't let him sweet talk you, Miss R.

I got World Series tickets for the kids,
dugout boxes.

Take him back. I mean, I forgive him.

Thank you. I'm sure these guys
will really be happy with the tickets.

Congratulations.

Wait, Nikki. I want you to come out
with me and celebrate.

For an hour.

A year.
Whatever. Just come out with me.

All right. What do you say
we start with an hour?

♪ Well, the house is a rockin',
Don't bother knockin' ♪

♪ Yeah, the house is a rockin',
Don't bother knockin' ♪

♪ Yeah, the house is a rockin',
Don't bother, come on in ♪

♪ Kick off your shoes
Start losin' the blues ♪

♪ 'Cause this old house
Ain't got nothin' to lose ♪

♪ Seen it all for years,
Start spreadin' the news ♪

♪ We got room on the floor,
Come on, baby, shake some loose ♪

♪ Well, the house is a rockin',
Don't bother knockin' ♪

♪ Yeah, the house is a rockin',
Don't bother knockin' ♪

♪ Yeah, the house is a rockin',
Don't bother, come on in ♪

♪ Well, the house is a rockin',
Don't bother knockin' ♪

♪ Yeah, the house is a rockin',
Don't bother knockin' ♪

♪ Yeah, the house is a rockin',
Don't bother, come on in ♪

♪ Walkin' up the street
You can hear the sound ♪

♪ Of some bad honky-tonkers
Really layin' it down ♪

♪ They've seen it all for years
And got nothin' to lose ♪

♪ So get out on the floor
Shimmy 'til you shake some loose ♪

♪ Well, the house is a rockin',
Don't bother knockin' ♪

♪ Yeah, the house is a rockin',
Don't bother knockin' ♪

♪ Yeah, the house is a rockin',
Don't bother, come on in ♪

♪ I said the house is a rockin',
Don't bother, come on in ♪♪

♪ Whoa, Boom-Bapa-Boom ♪

♪ Whoa, Boom-Bapa-Boom ♪

♪ Whoa, Boom-Bapa-Boom ♪

♪ At a glance I looked at you ♪

♪ Just as fast, I felt brand-new ♪

♪ You, look at you ♪

♪ If I made a pass at you ♪

♪ Would you say
That we were through? ♪

♪ You, look at you ♪

♪ Treat yourself right,
Come with me, say I do ♪

♪ Singing whoa, Boom-Bapa-Boom ♪

♪ Whoa, Boom-Bapa-Boom ♪

♪ Singing whoa, Boom-Bapa-Boom ♪

- ♪ Whoa, Boom-Bapa-Boom ♪
- ♪ Whoa, Boom-Bapa-Boom ♪

♪ Singing whoa, Boom-Bapa-Boom ♪

- ♪ Whoa, Boom-Bapa-Boom ♪
- ♪ Whoa, Boom-Bapa-Boom ♪

- ♪ Whoa, Boom-Bapa-Boom ♪
- ♪ Whoa, Boom-Bapa-Boom ♪♪