Original subtitles

You are about to enter another dimension. A dimension not only of sight

and sound, but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land of imagination.

Next stop, the Twilight Zone.

What you're looking at is a ghost.

Once alive, but now deceased.

Once upon a time, it was a baseball stadium that housed a major league ball

club known as the Hoboken Zephyrs.

Now it houses nothing but memories, and a wind that stirs in the high grass of

what was once an outfield, a wind that sometimes bears a faint ghostly

resemblance to the roar of a crowd that once sat here.

We're back in time now, when the Hoboken Zephyrs were still a part of the

National League, and this mausoleum of memories was an honest-to-Pete stadium.

But since this is strictly a story of make-believe, it has to start this way.

Once upon a time in Hoboken, New Jersey, it was tryout day.

And though he's not yet on the field, you're about to meet a most unusual

fella, a left-handed pitcher named Casey.

looking bunch of boys, huh?

Who are you expecting? The All-Stars?

You stick up a tryout sign for a last division club that happens to be 31

games out of first, this is the material you usually round up. This is the

material you usually round up.

You're general manager of this club. Why don't you get me some ball players?

You'd know what to do with them.

20 games out of fourth place.

And the only big average we got is a manager with the widest mouth in either

league. Maybe you better get reminded. When the Hoboken Zephyrs win one game,

we gotta call it a streak.

Oh, buddy boy, when contract time comes around, you don't have to.

How's Fletcher doing?

Are you kidding?

He pitched one inning last week and only allowed six runs.

That makes him our most valuable player of the month.

Duggar. Yeah.

Who?

Want to look at a pitching?

At this point, I'll even look at you.

Send him over.

He's a lefty.

Lefty shmefty. What's the difference?

He's got more than one arm and less than four. He's for us.

Hey, move!

Yeah! Fletcher can quit now. I got a new boy coming down. Catch him for a while.

Check! You got the lineup for tonight?

I'm working on it.

Who's pitching?

I just feel them one by one. Who's ever warm goes to the mound.

Hey, Chavez, stop already with the calisthenics. That guy in the inch

turned blue.

Mr. McGarry?

All right, what's the gag?

Did this muttonhead put you up to it?

You're the pitcher, huh?

Big joke. Yuck, yuck, yuck. Big joke.

Oh, no, no. I'm not the pitcher.

I'm Dr. Stillman. Of course, I have thrown baseballs in my time.

That was before the war.

Yeah? Which war?

Ah, here comes Casey now.

He's the pitcher.

Casey, this is Mr. McGarry, manager of the Zephyrs.

No, no, no. Your right hand, Casey. Your right hand.

Oh!

You can let go now, Casey.

See that fellow out there with the big mitt?

He's what is known as a catcher.

His name is Monk.

Go on out and throw him a few.

Thanks very much, Mr. McGarry.

Put your cap on, Casey.

Good lad.

I see, I see.

You

his

father? His father?

Cayce's? Oh, no, no. He has no father.

Well, I am what you might call his, well, kind of creator.

How old is he? How old is he?

Well, now, that's a little difficult to say.

Well, guess.

Now, what I mean is it's hard to be chronological when discussing Casey's

age because he's only been in existence three weeks.

Now, what I mean is that he has the physique and the mind of a boy of 22.

But in terms of how long he's been here, well, now, the answer to that would be

three weeks.

Want to go over that again?

Oh, it's not too difficult, really.

You see, I made Casey.

I built him. He's a robot.

These are the blueprints I worked on.

Why do you have to pick on me all the time?

That is fastball.

That is curve.

That's a snowball.

He's a bit late.

Look, I'll... You... Why don't you wait right here?

Let me see that fastball.

You see that kid?

He's the best pitcher I ever caught.

Yeah, Mark, I saw it. I saw it, I saw it. What am I, blind? Take a shower.

He's got a hook, a curve, a slider. He's got a fast wall and was taught to come

off my head.

Take a shower.

He pitches like nothing, Ewan.

He's rough, Doc. He's plenty rough, but I think we can give him a try.

He's, uh, he's a robot, you know.

Don't ever say that.

That's one we'll just keep in the family here, huh?

Don't ever say the word R-O-B-B-O-T-T.

Uh, Casey?

Baby? Want to come here?

Well, looks like you got a little potential there, Casey.

I sent the Doc here. You're a little rough, but... We'll work that out.

I think we'll give you a chance. I like to help young ballplayers, you know?

Why don't you go down now and change your clothes, huh?

He does wear clothes, doesn't he? Oh, yes, he is.

You go down, take a shower, and then come up, and the three of us will

discuss a contract, huh?

You'd better go down with him and check his blueprints, Doc. I think that last

slowball shook him up.

Very well. Come on, Casey.

General manager's office.

Beasley, draw up a contract.

The only thing that stands between us as dependents is if this guy's battery goes

dead or he rushes in the rain.

Never mind what I mean. You draw up the contract.

Then, uh, come on down here. I want you to shake hands with your new ace

pitcher.

Got the signals down all right, Casey?

Yes. Now, above all, kid, don't be nervous.

Nervous? Feel at ease, Casey.

As if one of your electrodes were malfunctioning. You know, nervous.

Like it's two out in the night. You're one up, and Joe DiMaggio comes to the

plate looking intent.

Well, that wouldn't make me nervous.

I don't know anyone named Joe DiMaggio.

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, that's right. I forgot about that.

Why don't you just get in there, kid? Go ahead.

Mr. McGarry, what team is Casey pitching against?

The New York Giants.

Oh, I'd love to beat those Giants.

But for that matter, I'd love to beat Cincinnati or Philadelphia or the Braves

or even the Hicksville Bullets.

They beat us 11-0 in spring training.

Oh, I think Casey will come through for you, Mr. McGarry.

Yeah?

What's in this for you, Doc?

Oh, you mean with Casey?

Oh, just scientific, that's all. Purely experimental.

You know, I think Casey's some sort of a superman. I'd like to have that proven.

Once I built a home economist, a marvelous cook.

I gained 46 pounds before I had to dismantle her.

Now, with Casey's skills, I considered that with his strength and accuracy,

he'd be a baseball pitcher.

Now, in order to have that proved, I had to have him pitch in competition.

and as an acid test to pitch at absolutely the worst ball team I could

find.

Thanks a lot, Doc.

You got a lot of class.

Play ball!

No fracture, no concussion, reflexes seem normal. I think you're going to be

all right, Mr. Casey.

Oh, boy, I could breathe again.

All I kept thinking about was, there goes Casey, there goes the pennant,

there goes the series.

There goes your career.

Yes, sir, Mr. Casey, I think you're in good shape here.

Although when I heard how hard that ball hit you, I wondered to myself how, uh...

How, uh... How, uh...

Mr. Casey?

What's wrong?

Well, there's nothing wrong.

What are you prying for?

Well, there's not a thing wrong.

Everything is just fine. It's just that... Just that what?

Well, this, uh... This man doesn't have any pulse.

No heartbeat.

This, uh... This man isn't alive.

He'll have to come out now, Mr. McGarry.

What's this all about, Mouth? What are you trying to pull off?

Well, you're not going to like this, Beasley, but... Doctor, I think you

should know this before you go any further.

This man hasn't a pulse or a heartbeat because he doesn't have a heart.

He's a robot.

A what? That's right.

A robot.

You're sure?

By all means. I built him.

And he's been pitching for the Hoboken Zephyrs.

Under the circumstances, as team physician, I'm afraid I must notify the

baseball commissioner.

Casey, move over.

Article 6, section 2, the baseball code.

I quote, a team shall consist of nine men.

End of quote.

Men, understand?

Not robots.

He's suspended.

That's my final decision.

Commissioner, to all intents and purposes, he is human.

Casey.

Talk to him.

Tell him about yourself.

What should I say?

You see, he talks better than me.

And he's a lot smarter than most of those muttonheads I got in the club. He

is not human. How human do you want him? He's got arms and legs and a face and he

talks. And no heart. He doesn't even own a heart. How could he be human without a

heart? Beasley hasn't got a heart either. He owns 40% of the club.

That's it, gentlemen.

He doesn't have a heart. That means he isn't human. That's a clear violation of

the baseball code.

Therefore, he doesn't play.

Mr. Commissioner, suppose we gave him a heart.

If that's the essential thing that makes him different, I think I could operate

and supply him with a heart.

You can do that. No trouble at all.

Do you want to play?

Of course he wants to play.

You're sure? I guarantee it.

If he were to be given a heart, would you classify him as a... Well, what I

mean is, would you call him a... You had me fooled, even without one.

All right, all right.

With a heart. I'll give him a temporary okay until the league meeting in

October. Then we'll have to take it up.

The other clubs are going to scream bloody murder.

I can just hear Derosier now.

Well, then it's all settled. Casey gets a heart, an accreditation as being a

human, and the Hoboken Zephyr.

Take it, Mouthy.

The Hoboken Zephyrs win the pennant for the first time in 23 years.

Operator.

Operator, are you sure you're ringing the right number?

Yeah, operator, that's it. Thank you very much, operator.

Any news?

I don't know. The operator can't get any answer at Dr. Stillman's house.

Maybe he's still in the middle of the operation.

So he's still in the middle of the operation. What's the matter? He can't

use one hand to pick up a phone?

Well, I can't wait any longer.

I gotta get him a lineup.

Corrigan, you start.

Followed by O'Hara.

Smith and Jones.

Now, listen, you guys.

That's the enemy out there.

That's the New York Giants.

And while you're out there playing today, I want you to remember there's a

big fella named Casey lying on a table, struggling for his life.

And I know the last thing he said just before that knife went into his chest.

He said, go out there, Zephyrs, and win this one for the big guy.

Pull yourself together, Monk.

And I'll tell you something else, you guys.

From now on, there's gonna be a ghost in the dugout.

Number seven.

Oh, number seven.

So just before you go to bat, I want you to look over to where he used to sit.

Of course, he's gonna be there.

He's gonna be there in spirit.

And he's gonna be yelling for us.

And rooting for us and screaming.

Go, Zephyrs! Go, go, go!

All right, Casey.

And I'll tell you something else about the big guy.

He has got a heart.

Casey!

Casey!

All right, all right, quiet down. Quiet down.

Well?

Tell him, Casey.

Listen, Mr. McGarry.

You got a heart.

Look at his smile.

That's the one thing I couldn't get him to do.

Yeah. It's wonderful.

Just wonderful.

I feel like togetherness.

All right, let's get out there.

There you are, Seven.

Go suit up.

togetherness.

I'm a reasonable man. I'll listen to anything.

As you well know, Doctor.

But maybe you can tell me how one minute he can look like three Bobfellas and the

next like a tanker with nothing.

Or maybe you can explain, Casey, how you can pitch nine balls and allow four

singles, two doubles, two triples, and a home run.

Shall I tell him, Casey?

Well, somebody tell me.

Casey's got a heart.

All right, so Casey's got a heart.

The thing is, Mr.

McGarry... I just couldn't strike those poor fellows out.

I didn't have it in me to do that, to hurt their feelings.

I felt compassion.

That's it. He's got compassion. See how he smiles?

Give a man a heart, Mr. McGarry, particularly someone like Casey, who

hasn't been around long enough to understand competitiveness or drive or

ego.

That's what happens.

I'm sorry, Mr. McGarry.

I just can't hurt fellows' careers.

Dr. Stillman thinks I should go into social work. That's right. I want to

help people.

Why?

Well, I know somebody who can help for a start.

Me.

Perhaps you'd like to keep Casey's blueprints.

A little memento might cheer you up.

Hey, Doc, wait a minute!

Doc!

Hey, Doc, wait a minute!

Doc!

Hey, Doc!

Wait a minute!

Once upon a time, there was a Major League Baseball team called the Hoboken

Zephyrs, who during the last year of their existence wound up in last place

and shortly thereafter wound up in oblivion.

There's a rumor, unsubstantiated, of course, that a manager named McGarry...

took them to the West Coast, and wound up with several pennants and a couple of

world's championships.

This team had a pitching staff that made history.

Of course, none of them smiled very much, but it happens to be a fact that

they pitched like nothing human.

And if you're interested as to where these gentlemen came from, you might

check under B for Baseball in the Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling, the creator of Twilight Zone, will tell you about next week's

story after this word from our alternate sponsor.

And now, Mr. Serling.

Next week, we take you back into the dark and hidden, unexplored recesses of

a writer's mind and do some probing as to just how this type of bird operates.

It's a fascinating excursion into the oddball.

On the Twilight Zone next week, Kenan Wynn and Phyllis Kirk star in Richard

Matheson's A World of His Own.

And on this particular one, even this kooky writer gets into the act. Good

night.

Kimberly Clark invites you to watch Steve McQueen in Wanted, Dead or Alive,

Saturday nights over most of these same stations.