All language subtitles for Major.League.1989

Yeah!

Stay! Stay!

-Stay!
-I got it!

Good morning, gentlemen,

and welcome to another season
of Indians baseball.

I know it may not seem the same
without Donald here,

but I promise you,
by the end of this season,

we will have made history.

Unfortunately, there are
some in the press who feel that

"the ex-showgirl wife of Donald Phelps

"has no business being the owner
of a major league baseball team."

Spring training begins in two weeks.

Here's a list of the players
we'll be inviting to camp.

I never heard of half of these guys,

and the ones I do know
are way past their prime.

Most of these guys never had a prime.

The facts are, we lost
our two best players to free agency.

We haven't won a pennant
in over 35 years.

We haven't placed higher than fourth
in the last 15.

Obviously, it's time for some changes.

-This guy here is dead.
-Cross him off, then.

Spring training starts on the 1st.

How do you think the Indians
will do this year?

It doesn't look too good.

These guys don't look too fucking good.

Oh, hi, Charlie. Come in, have a seat.

I'm glad you called me in.

I'm still unclear
about a couple of things.

Oh, really? Like what?

Well, if I'm the GM,
who's gonna be the manager?

I was thinking of Lou Brown.

Who's Lou Brown?

He's managed the Toledo Mud Hens
of the International League

for the last 30 years.

I think he'll fit right in
with our team concept.

What exactly is our team concept?

That's what I wanted
to talk to you about, Charlie.

I want to put together a team
that'll help us relocate to Miami.

What do you mean?

Some of these guys
are furniture movers?

I'm serious about this, Charlie.

It's no secret
I've never liked Cleveland much.

The stadium's falling apart,
we don't draw dick, the weather's lousy.

Another couple years of this,

and I'm gonna have to start
feeding Cha-Cha real dog food.

Mrs. Phelps, you just can't
up and move a team on a whim.

It's hardly a whim.

Miami's offered
to build us a new stadium:

62,000 capacity,

45 VIP boxes,

and for me, a mansion in Boca Raton,

plus free membership in
the Palm Beach Polo and Country Club.

Now, no other franchise in baseball
can match that deal.

The league will never let us
leave Cleveland.

We got a lease with the city.

The lease says
we have the right to move

if the attendance falls below 800,000
for the year.

Paragraph 40, line 17.

If we play bad enough, we should
be able to come in under that.

What are you saying?
You want us to lose?

No. We've been losing.

What I want is for us to finish dead last.

-Yeah?
-Hello, Jake?

This is Charlie Donovan,
the new GM of the Cleveland Indians.

Yeah.

We'd love for you
to come to spring training

for a shot at this year's club.

-Is that you, Talbert?
-What?

This isn't very funny, you know.
I'm hung over,

my knees are killing me,
and if you're gonna pull this shit,

at least you could have said
you were from the Yankees.

Tire World.

Hello, Lou? This is Charlie Donovan
of the Cleveland Indians.

How would you like to manage
the Indians this year?

I don't know.

What do you mean, you don't know?

This is a chance to manage
in the big leagues.

Let me think it over, will you, Charlie?

I got a guy on the other line
about some whitewalls.

I'll talk to you later.

Rick, we heard about your pitching
out of Portland last year.

I'm not really with them anymore.

Well, we'd still like to take a look at you

at our spring camp in Arizona,
March the 1st.

Well, I'm not sure I can make it by then.

There's Jake Taylor.

He was an all-star at Boston, wasn't he?

Yeah, wound up in the Mexican League.

Had some problems with his knees.

-Wish we had him two years ago.
-We did.

Four years ago, then.

Who is that?

Must be Cerrano.

Defected from Cuba.
Wanted religious freedom.

What's his religion?

Voodoo.

I thought you didn't have
any high-priced talent.

Forgot about Dorn,
'cause he's only high-priced.

Picked him up as a free agent
three years ago.

Still hits the ball pretty well, doesn't he?

Yeah. He just can't field it.

We'll shape him up.

Hey.

I don't recognize this guy.

Say, hey. Willie Mays Hayes here.

Play like Mays, but I run like Hayes.

How you doing?

How you doing?

-My man.
-Lou Brown. Nice to meet you, Hayes.

The parking lot is right out there.

Thanks.

Oh, and don't you guys go anywhere.

I plan to put on a hitting display.

I don't remember a Hayes on the list.

Look at this fucking guy.

My kinda team, Charlie.
It's my kinda team.

Mr. Dorn.

Harris! How you doing?

Hey, that weave is looking good, huh?

It's better than that rug of yours.

Whoa! Another freak show candidate.

How do you cut your hair, rook?
Vegematic?

The earring's cute, too. Have you got
the matching bracelet, veg-head?

Whoa.

-Watch yourself, Rog.
-Mr. Tough Guy.

Hi. Jake Taylor.

So, you got a name,
or are you gonna settle for "veg-head"?

-Vaughn. Rick Vaughn.
-Hi, Rick.

Hey, forget about Dorn.

He's always a little tough
on the rookies.

You get a lot worse from other clubs.

Say, hey! How you doing?
Willie Mays Hayes here.

Jake Taylor here.

Rick Vaughn.

What the hell league
you been playing in?

California Penal.

Never heard of it.
Well, how'd you end up playing there?

Stole a car.

Hey, big guy. You a golfer?

Hats for bats.

Yeah. What's your handicap?

Keep bats warm.

Gracias.

Whoa, amigo, I...

You can't...

You're welcome.

This is the guy
that wasn't invited to the camp.

Let's take his ass out.

Shit! I've been cut already?

Who the hell is that?

Get him a uniform.

All right.
Did you get enough hay for him?

You sure?
Take good care of it, all right? All right.

Hey, Jake. How's the knees holding up?

Great. Never been better.

Mobility's good? No problem
getting off the throw to second?

No problemo.

I need a catcher, Jake,

somebody who can lead this team
on the field.

So, I want the absolute truth here.
Are you 100%?

Yeah. Would I bullshit you
about something like that?

You better,
if you wanna make this team.

Second base!

Shit.

Hold it. Hold it.

Well, you may run like Mays,
but you hit like shit.

With your speed,
you should hit the ball on the ground

and be legging them out.

Every time I see you hit one in the air,

you owe me 20 pushups.

Hey, no problem.

Shit.

All right, Vaughn,
they tell us you're a pitcher.

You're sure not much of a dresser.

We wear caps and sleeves
at this level, son.

Understood?

All right, let's see what you can do.

-Nice velocity.
-Sounded like it.

Jesus.

How much?

96.

Better teach this kid some control
before he kills somebody.

Come on, Dorn.
Get in front of the damn ball.

Don't give me this olé bullshit.

Look, I took one of those
in the eye last year.

I'm not about to lose my sight.

I'm deeply moved.
Every time you play one off your hips,

you owe me 40 sit-ups.

What?

Jesus. This guy hits a ton.

How come nobody else
picked up on him?

Okay, Eddie, that's enough fastballs.
Throw him some breaking balls.

Lou, I want a word with you here.

Sure.

About those sit-ups you want me to do,

I got it right here in my contract.
Says I don't have to do any calisthenics

I don't feel are necessary.
So, what do you think about that?

Two hundred pushups. How am I
supposed to hit if I can't lift my arms?

Shit.

The way I played today,

I wouldn't be surprised
if they red-tagged me already.

What do you mean?

You get a red tag on your locker,
it means the manager wants to see you

because you just died
and went down to the minors.

Hey, don't worry, kid.

They ain't gonna cut anybody
the first day.

What's that shit on your chest?

Crisco.

Bardahl.

Vagisil.

Any one of 'em will give you

another 2 to 3 inches drop
on your curve ball.

'Course, if the umps
are watching me close,

I just rub a little jalapeño
inside my nose, get it running.

Then if I need to load the ball up a little,

I just wipe my nose.

You put snot on the ball?

I haven't got an arm like yours.
I gotta put anything on it I can find.

Someday you will, too.

Qué pasa there, Pedro?

Bats, they are sick.

I can no hit curve ball.

Straight ball, I hit it very much.

Curve ball, bats are afraid.

I ask Jobu to come, take fear from bats.

I offer him cigar and rum.

He will come.

Hey, you know, you might think about

taking Jesus Christ as your savior,

instead of fooling around
with all this stuff.

Shit, Harris.

Jesus. I like him very much,

but he no help with curve ball.

You trying to say
Jesus Christ can't hit a curve ball?

Okay, Harris.
Let's not start a holy war here.

I wouldn't leave that rum sitting around
out here with this group.

Is very bad to steal Jobu's rum.

Is very bad.

Sí, sí, Pedro.

Attaboy, Dorn.
Way to get in front of that ball.

That's the ticket.

Gracias.

Okay.

Third base.

-Shit.
-Jesus!

He's safe!

Damn!

Jeez!

He's going.

-Come on.
-Out!

-Final cut-down day, right?
-Afraid so.

I don't wanna go in there.

Yeah. Look, whatever happens,

you just keep it to yourselves
until you get out of the clubhouse.

You don't wanna celebrate
in front of guys who just died.

Yeah, but what if
we're one of the deceased, huh?

Come on, Jake, it's only your life.

Yes, yes, yes.

I got news for you, Mr. Brown.
You haven't heard the last of me.

You may think I'm shit now,

but someday,
you're gonna be sorry that you cut me.

I'm gonna catch on somewhere else,

and every time that I pitch against you,

I'm gonna stick it up your fucking ass!

Good. I like that kind of spirit
in a player.

The only problem is I didn't cut you.

What?

I think someone's been
having some fun with you.

Jesus.

Hey, hey, hey!

Vaughn!

Come on, guys! Cool it!

-Don't fuck with me, Vaughn!
-Yeah?

Fuck you!

What's the matter, rookie fuckwad,
can't you take a little joke?

Oh, yeah. Real fucking funny, asshole!

All right. All right! Knock that shit off!

Lou, you better make it real clear
to this little lady,

I'm not about to take his shit.

Shut up, Dorn.

Save all that energy for the field.

Got a long way to go
before the season's over.

Hey, forget about Dorn.
We got other things to do.

Like what?

Like packing for Cleveland.

Come on.

Ricky Vaughn? Willie Hayes?

I never heard of most of 'em.

Mitchell Friedman?

Who are these fucking guys?

Two down. Bottom of the ninth.

Game is tied.

Taylor calls his shot.

There's the pitch.

Yeah!

Whoo! Oh, boy!
Oh, you really got a hold of that one.

Yeah. What was that, a slider?

It was out of here.

Are you gentlemen ready to order?

Oh, we'll need a few
minutes more, please.

I look like a banker in this.

Sorry, Rick, those are the house rules.

So, what are we gonna have?

What language is this?

French.

They got chilidogs over there?

Forget it, I'll order. Let's have a toast.

Here's to baseball,

and to the start of two great careers.

And for me,

here's to one more good year
in the sun.

What is it, the chick?

-That's my wife.
-Does she know that?

I mean, she would have been,
if I hadn't messed it up.

Who's that guy she's with?

I don't know.
He's not wearing a name tag.

You want me to drag him out of here,
kick the shit out of him?

Excuse me.

Miss Westland, there's
a telephone call for you at the desk.

Oh, okay, thank you.

That's strange. I'll be right back.

-Hello?
-Hello, Lynn? It's Jake.

Jake.

-Jake Taylor?
-Uh-huh.

How'd you know I was here?

Oh, just a hunch.

I took you there when you
got your master's degree, remember?

I figured you're wearing that black dress
with the red sash.

How'd you know that?
I didn't even have this dress when...

You're still a stunner.

Thanks.

What are you doing here?

Aren't you supposed to be
in Mexico somewhere?

Well, I'm playing with the Indians again.
Back in the bigs.

Well, that's great.
That's great, Jake. I'm happy for you.

Lynn, I don't think he's gonna buy
the phone bit now.

I... I gotta get back.

Wait a minute. I need your number.

I tried calling you at home,
but you're not listed.

My life is different
from when you knew me, Jake.

Meaning what,
I don't know you anymore?

Couldn't we talk about this
some other time?

-I really gotta get back.
-Okay. Just give me the number.

-I don't think that's a good idea.
-Why? 'Cause of this guy you're with?

-What is he, an accountant?
-Attorney.

-Oh, worse.
-Please. He's watching us.

I'm not leaving
till you give me your number.

All right. It's 555-1934.

Thank you.

Lynn.

I'm back. I'm gonna be around.

Relax, kid.
We got 162 of these games to go.

All right, everybody.

We got 10 minutes to game time.
Let's all gather round.

I'm not much
for giving inspirational addresses,

but I'd just like to point out
that every newspaper in the country

has picked us to finish last.

The local press seems to think
we'd save everyone

a lot of time and trouble

if we just went out and shot ourselves.

Me? I'm for wasting sportswriters' time.

So, I'd like to hang around

and see if we can give 'em all
a nice big shit-burger to eat.

Shit-burger?

Hey, Lou.

Aren't we gonna have a prayer?

I mean, we're not all savages
like Cerrano over there.

You guys go ahead.

Oh, well, okay. Let's...

-Let's all bow our heads.
-Excuse me. I'll be in my office.

Dear Heavenly Father,
we humbly pray that you will guide...

Jesus Christ, Cerrano.

Have to wake up bats.

Okay. Shit, can we try this again?

Dear God, we humbly pray
that you will guide and protect us

as we gird up our loins
to take the field of battle.

Lead us all into victory
in the name of Jesus...

Christ.

-Way to go, Cerrano.
-God damn it.

-Jesus.
-Let's go. Go.

Hello again, everybody.

Harry Doyle here, welcoming all you
friends of the feather

to another season of Indians baseball.

A lot of new faces in Chief Wahoo's
tribe this year

as they take on the defending
American League champs,

the New York Yankees.

And hopefully, we'll have some
of the names that go with those faces

before their first at-bat.

Anyway, listen to the roar of the crowd
as the Indians take the field.

Yes, sir,
they love this club here in Cleveland.

Just a reminder, fans,
about Die Hard Night

coming up here at the stadium.

Free admission to anyone
who was actually alive

the last time the Indians won a pennant.

Here's to the thrill of defeat, Charlie.

Keltner delivers. Here's a swing,
and a high fly ball to center field.

Hayes under it.

Hey. Makes a basket catch,
Willie Mays style.

And the side is retired.

All right. Way to look out there. Great.

Nice catch, Hayes.
Don't ever fucking do it again.

-All right. Let's go! Let's get it going!
-Let's go.

Bottom of the first,
and Willie Mays Hayes

to lead it off for the wigwammers.

A lot of people say you can tell
how the season's gonna go

by the first hitter of the year.

Brewster into the wind,
and comes to the plate.

Oops!

Hey! Here's a hot shot toward the hole.

Rudiya knocks it down, fires to first.
Late! Hayes beat it!

Hey, give Rudiya credit
for sacrificing his body on that racket.

That guy's got a family to think about.

So, Hayes becomes
the first Indian in 15 years

to lead off the season with a hit.

Really knocked the crap out of that one.

Oh, I plan to get
at least a double out of this.

I bought 100 of these,
one for every base I'm gonna steal.

Shit.

Well, maybe things will turn around
a little for the Indians this year.

Now batting, number seven,
catcher Jake Taylor.

Excuse me. Gotta take my first step
toward the Hall of Fame.

My ass.

We don't know where Hayes
played last year,

but I'm sure he did a hell of a job.

Brewster ready from the stretch.
Hayes with a good lead.

You look real sharp,
but it's hard to steal second base

with your shoe untied.

Quick move to first. He got him!

Hayes is picked off.

Well, so much for that.

Personally, I think we got hosed
on that call.

Nice going. Don't bounce the damn ball.

Nice throw, dickhead.

Strike.

Son of a bitch!

Coming through! I...

Oh, shit!

Top of the sixth, and rookie sensation
Ricky Vaughn on the pitch now.

You can close the book on Keltner.
Thank God.

Relax, rookie.
We're only four runs down.

We're still in this game.

You take it to 'em.

-Let's go.
-All right.

Look, man, a guy gets to second,
first sign indicator.

Vaughn, a juvenile delinquent
in the off-season,

in his major league debut.

I'm gonna light your ass up, meat.

Vaughn into the wind-up
in his first offering.

Just a bit outside.
He tried the corner and missed.

Ball four. Ball eight.

Low, and Vaughn has walked
the bases loaded

on 12 straight pitches.

Boy, how can these guys
lay off pitches that close?

Fuck!

Wild thing

You make my heart sing

You walk everything

Taylor, what are you doing
back up here?

I couldn't cut it in the Mexican League.

How's your wife and my kids?

Vaughn in deep trouble here
with Clue Haywood,

last year's American League
home-run champ at the plate.

Vaughn kicks, fires.

Here is a swing, and a drive
toward left field, and deep. Oh, boy.

No way. No way. Too high. Too high.

It is gone off the reservation.

A grand-slam home run for Haywood.

Looked like a strike, anyway.

Where are you going?

"Too high"?
What does that mean, "too high"?

Too high, I thought.

So, Vaughn is off to a rocky start,

as Haywood clears the bases
with one swing.

Not "too high," "too hard," right?

-At first, it was really high.
-Who gives a shit? It's gone.

-Want me to go get him?
-Nah. Let's see how he reacts.

Well, Brown, apparently,
is going to stay with Vaughn here,

as the Indians trail now,
eight to nothing.

Coleman steps in. A .281 lifetime hitter.

Taylor with a sign,
Vaughn into his motion, and the pitch.

Uh-oh!

Interesting.

About time, it's eight-nothing.

You! You're gone!

-What?
-You heard me, you're gone!

He was right on top of the plate.

Get him out of here!
He's horse shit.

I think you can go get him now.

The ball slipped out of my hand.
It was an accident.

You threw at him intentionally.

-Kiss my ass.
-You're gone.

-You're full of shit! Fuck you!
-Get out of here, rookie!

Why don't you blow me, ump?

You're gone!

All right, Coleman, take it easy.
Accidents will happen.

You show a lot of heart
shaking it off like this.

Fuck you, Taylor.

-He done hurt him, hurt himself!
-Come on!

Don't even think about it, Coleman.

The fucking wall, you pansy!

Hard and high.

They succeeded at getting the object
that they were trying to establish.

Because of the trajectory of the ball,
it looked way too high.

So, a tough start for the Erie warriors,

as they drop a heartbreaker
to the Yankees, nine to nothing.

Post-game show is brought to you by...

Christ, I can't find it. The hell with it.

Hello. Cuyahoga Sheet Metal.

Yeah, you wouldn't happen to have
someone working there

named Lynn Westland, would you?

Nah, nobody here by that name.

Didn't think so.

Jake, you shouldn't have come here.

I was wondering
why you'd give an old friend

a bum phone number.

-Let's talk in my office, okay?
-I don't wanna talk in your office.

I told you, I don't think it's a good idea
that we see each other.

Why not?

Because we don't have
anything in common.

Sometimes I wonder if we ever did.

What are you talking about?

We were both athletes, world-class,
hot for each other.

What more could we have in common?

I stopped being an athlete
three years ago, Jake.

Books are my life now.

Don't you dare laugh.
In two years, I put together

one of the best special collection
departments in the country.

What is this? You're still sore
I never read Moby Dick?

You never read anything I asked you to.

All right, I'll check it out now.
Is this the whale section?

I'll bet what's-his-name at the restaurant
read it.

Tom. His name's Tom,
and keep your voice down.

What do you see in this guy?

Well, he's stable, intelligent,

and I never found him in bed
with a stewardess.

That's because no stewardess
would have him.

Hey, wouldn't you rather be
with someone who's in demand?

Oh, God, you know, Jake,
it's just like always.

You don't take anything seriously.
Everything's a joke to you.

Oh, come on, man, for Christ's sake.
I'm just trying to loosen things up.

I'm getting frostbite here.

Tom and I
are getting married in the fall.

Oh, God, Lynn, that's crazy.
I had plans for us.

-Plans?
-Yeah.

How can you say stuff like that?

I haven't seen you in three years.
You never even wrote me a letter.

Well, I'm sorry about that,

but I wasn't exactly proud
of my situation.

Come on, you never thought
about me at all while I was gone?

Yeah, Jake, not so loud.

What about the three nights we spent
on the beach in Veracruz?

You ever have nights like that
with Mr. Briefcase?

What about the night you had in Detroit
with Miss Fuel Injection?

Well, what was I supposed to do?

She bet me 50 bucks
she had a better body than you,

and I had to defend your honor.

Oh, what a bunch of bullshit!

I have a much better body
than she does!

She's right.

You haven't changed at all, have you?

I'm afraid I have, or I wouldn't be here.

Come on, Lynn. Don't make me do time
for things that happened years ago.

Jake, I'm sorry.

You'll just always be the little boy
who wouldn't grow up.

Lynn.

A quarter of the season's gone.
We're 15 and 24.

Seven games out of first.

That's bad. It's not bad enough.

Plus, this team is showing
signs of improvement.

I didn't think we'd win
15 games all year.

-Any ideas?
-On how we can get worse?

How about a series of fines
for good play?

Maybe a $30,000 bonus for the guy
voted least valuable player.

Maybe the problem is

we're coddling these guys too much.

Yeah.

What's with this?
We never leave from down here.

Maybe the Jetway isn't working.

Hey, this is good. This is real good.

A 757 to Milwaukee?

No, that's not your plane.
Yours is this one rolling in.

Oh, sure, now you come around.

He's not fooled.

So, the sons of Geronimo,
still suffering from propeller-lag,

are nipped by the Brewers tonight,
seven to nothing.

The only excitement for the tribe
provided by Rick Vaughn,

who set an American League record

by throwing four wild pitches
in one inning.

Hey, congratulations, Rick.

Excuse me, Mr. Vaughn?
Can I have your autograph?

Yeah, sure.

My first autograph.

Couldn't give these away
a couple of weeks ago.

I saw your record on the news.
You made their Hall of Shame.

Congratulations.

-Thanks.
-Hey, thank you.

Nice hair.

Well, you're a celebrity now, Vaughn.

Thought you had to do something good
to be a celebrity.

Not if you do it colorfully.

Call the stewardess, Vaughn.
I need one of those bags.

There aren't any stewardesses.

I wonder if there are any pilots.

So, the tribe drops
its third straight on this trip.

Six to one to the Rangers.

For the Indians, one run on,
let's see, one hit.

That's all we got, one goddamn hit?

You can't say "goddamn" on the air.

Don't worry, nobody's listening anyway.

Hey, Mort, what is Comtec at?

Buy it when it hits 34.

What?

Moby Dick? What you reading that for?

This happens to be a masterpiece
of American literature, that's why.

Lynn turned you on to that?

Yeah, a long time ago.

Well, look, if we ever get out of here,

me and the guys, we're gonna
go to a club later on tonight.

Wanna come along?

Well, I... I got some reading to do.

What, you got a test or something?

Hey, Jake, man, why don't you
just go over there and see her?

I mean, maybe she'll let you slide
on a couple of these.

Well, I would, if I knew where she lived.

That's easy.
Just tail her home from the library.

What, do you mean sit in the car
and wait for her to come out?

-That's kinda juvenile, don't you think?
-Yeah.

Jake, this isn't my place.

-Who is this, love?
-Whose is it?

Oh, Mr. Taylor, right?

I remember you from the restaurant.

Lynn's told me a lot about you.

Why don't you come in for a while?

Oh, no.
I really ought to be running along.

-Yeah, he's gotta get going.
-Yeah.

Really. Come on in for a drink.

Well...

Excuse me, everybody.
This is Jake Taylor.

Jake, Arthur and Claire Holloway.

-How do you do?
-Hi.

-Hello.
-Brent and Janice Bowden.

-How do you do?
-Hi. How are you?

Hi.

Jake is a professional baseball player.

Really?

Jake, what brings you here
this evening?

Well, I wanted to discuss
a couple of books with Lynn,

and I thought this was her place.

Well, it soon will be.

Yeah, I heard you were engaged.
Congratulations.

Thank you.

-What can I get you to drink?
-Beer will be fine.

Great. Have a seat.

-That's great.
-Yeah.

-No, thanks.
-Sir.

No.

Well, what team do you play for, Jake?

The Indians.

Here in Cleveland?

I didn't know they still had a team.

Yeah. We got uniforms and everything.
It's really great.

They're in last right now,
but hopefully moving up, eh, Jake?

I've heard baseball players make
very good salaries these days.

Well, that depends on
how good they are, I guess.

How good are you?

I make the league minimum.

He was one of the best in baseball
before he had problems with his knees.

Well, Jake, what are you gonna do
when your career's over?

I mean, you can't play baseball forever,
can you?

Something will come up.

Will it?

Well, I thought I'd go to Hawaii,

have a couple of kids who grow up
to be Olympic champions.

Really? In what event?

Swimming.

The 200-meter individual medley.

I figure it ought to be real big by then.

You got the girl picked out?

I did, but I wasn't smart enough
to hold on to her.

You used to be an athlete,
didn't you, Lynn?

Yeah.

What did you do?

200-meter individual medley.

Alternate on the '80 Olympic team.

Oh, really? Well...

Well, I better get going.

Oh, let me walk you out.

-Nice meeting all of you.
-Yeah.

-Thanks for the beer.
-Don't mention it.

I'll let you know if I land a job.
I know you're very concerned.

Yeah, well, I

just wanted Lynn to know
what she would have had ahead of her.

-Stay away from her.
-Suck my dick.

-Pepper says you wanted to see me.
-Yeah, Rick.

Come on in. Have a seat.

Rick, I'm not gonna
beat around the bush here.

You've got a great arm.
It's one of the best I've ever seen,

but your control hasn't come around
like we'd hoped it would.

Now, a lot of pitchers started off wild,

and after they worked it out
in the minors for a while,

they went on to great careers.

Take Ryan there.

-What about him?
-Never mind Ryan.

Read these letters for me.

You can't read them, can you?

Yo, man, they look nice.
I had a pair just like 'em.

Well, after the game, I'm gonna
pick out a pair that's more me.

-Good luck.
-They look good.

Besides, seeing's
the most important thing, son.

I don't think it's that important.

Fuck.

All right, let's hit the field.

Up your butt, Jobu.

Yo, bartender! Jobu needs a refill!

-Head's up!
-Yo, watch it!

Hustle! Let's go!

-God damn!
-Shit.

We're in the ninth.

Two down, a man on first,

and the Indians clinging to
a one-run lead.

Ricky Vaughn,
the kid they call "Wild Thing,"

one out away
from his first major league victory.

Vaughn's been looking good
out there today.

Don't worry, he'll blow it.

Vaughn's showing some signs
of fatigue out there.

He seems to have lost some zip
on his fastball.

Slow curve. Here's a swing,
and a bouncing ball.

Dorn has a chance to make the play.
He can't get it.

Clark digging around second.
He'll make it to third easily.

And the A's have runners at the corners.

Dorn didn't get much of a jump
on that ball, Monte.

But let's give him credit,
at least he didn't spike himself.

You want me to get him
out of there, Lou?

No.

He's come this far,
let's see if he can finish it.

Come on, we need some defense here!

Johnny, maybe we ought to do
one of those waves.

So, Vaughn in a little trouble here.

But I'll tell you,
these Cleveland fans are great.

Listen to them get behind Vaughn.

-Hey, way to go, Rick!
-Go, Rick!

Come on, baby. Come on, Ricky.
Come on, Ricky.

Okay, Ricky, there's two outs,
so forget about the runners.

Get this guy at the plate.
Come on, Rick. Get tough.

This guy's a first-ball hitter.

You gotta come up
with something nasty.

Fucking Dorn.
This game should be over by now.

He could have had that ball.
He tanked it on purpose.

This isn't the California Penal League,
Vaughn.

We're professionals here.

We don't tank plays
for personal reasons,

so cut the crybaby shit.

Now, you pitched a hell of a game.
You want to finish it, don't you?

-Yeah.
-All right.

You think you can throw
a strike on this pitch?

There's not gonna be much on it.
My arm feels like Jell-O right now.

Just get it over the plate.
I want him to swing.

Last time I did that,
the guy hit one that hasn't landed yet.

Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it.

Number 27, right fielder Mike Rexman.

Hi, Rexman.

Hell of a situation we got here.
Two on, two out,

you guys trailing by one in the ninth.

You got a chance to be a hero
on national television.

If you don't blow it.

By the way, I saw your wife
at the Capri Lounge last night.

Hell of a dancer.
You must be very, very proud.

That guy she was with,

I mean, I'm sure
he's a close personal friend and all,

but tell me, what was he doing

wearing her panties on his head?

Swung on and popped up.

Uh-oh, Rexie,
I don't think this one's got the distance.

Taylor under it.
He's got it, and this ball game is over...

Shit.

...as the Indians hold out
for a 3-2 victory.

Yeah.

Starting to come together, Pepper.
Starting to come together.

Yeah.

Knock it off, Charlie.

Well, hi, Jake. Come on in.

Hi, Suzanne.

-How are you?
-Oh, I'm fine, thanks.

I was just wondering if I might have
a quick word with Roger?

Well, sure. He's in the solarium.
I'll get some coffee.

Oh, thank you.

United Airlines down three-quarters
at 141.

International Business Machines down
one-half to 96 and three-eighths.

American Telephone & Telegraph...

-Hey, Jake.
-Hey, Roger.

Nice place.

Yeah, we're still working on it,

trying to figure if we wanna take
this room Oriental or Santa Fe.

Listen, Rog, I had to talk to you
about something,

and I didn't want to do it
in front of the rest of the team.

Yeah, sure. What is it?
Here, have a seat. You want a beer?

Oh, no, thank you.

You have financial problems?

I could put you on
to a great investment guy.

No, I don't have much of a portfolio
right now,

but, you know,
what I was concerned about

was why you didn't come up
with that grounder

that Reichart hit in the ninth.

It was out of my reach.
What do you want me to do, dive for it?

Rog, it could have meant the game.

Oh, come on.
Cut the rah-rah shit, Taylor.

Year after this, I go free agent.

Plus, my agent and I got
a couple of plans for life after baseball.

So, I am not about to risk major injury,

or deface this property,
for a collection of stiffs.

You know, Dorn,

I liked you so much better
when you were just a ballplayer.

You were really great once.

If you want to be
an interior decorator now,

that's none of my business,

but some of us still need this team.

Now, you listen to me.
This is my last shot at a winner.

And for the younger guys,
it could be their only shot.

I don't know what happened to you,

but if you ever, ever tank another play
like you did today,

I'm gonna cut your nuts off
and stuff 'em down your fucking throat.

Coffee, anybody?

Hello again, all you Wahoo maniacs.
This is Harry Doyle welcoming you

to another edition of Teepee Talk.

Hey, in case you haven't noticed,

and judging by the attendance,
you haven't,

the Indians have managed
to win a few here and there,

and are threatening
to climb out of the cellar.

Wild thing, you make my heart sing.

You know, they could be a lot worse.

You know, these guys
ain't so fucking bad.

Oh, boy, this old body could use a soak.

Yeah? Well, forget it,
'cause it ain't working again.

Damn it! I thought they were gonna
replace this thing.

Hey! No hot water in here.

I've had it with this
nickel-and-dime stuff.

I'm gonna get that bitch on the phone.

-You wanted to talk to the bitch?
-Yeah.

Don't you think you ought to cover
yourself with a towel first, Mr. Brown?

We're out of towels,

and I'm too old to go diving into lockers.

I can take it if you can.

What happened to the new whirlpool
we were supposed to get?

Revenue problems have forced us
to cut back on equipment.

Cups still work, though.

We'll simply have to fix
the old whirlpool.

You fixed it six times already.

Now there's no hot water in the shower.

The pipes in this building
are old and rusted.

We're replacing them,
but it's a long, expensive process.

Sorry.

How am I supposed
to keep my players healthy

with cold water
and no therapy equipment?

Your players will just have to get
a little tougher.

What are they, a bunch of pansies?

Over 162 games,
even tough guys get sprains,

sore arms, muscle pulls.

It's only temporary.

Besides, these guys weren't playing
that good

when the equipment was working.

If I could get anybody
to come out and watch this team,

none of this would be necessary.

You ought to be grateful I can still afford
to pay your salary.

Harris winds and delivers.

Vaseline ball, swung on
and grounded to short.

Hey, easy play for Malina.
Up with it, throws to first.

And this ball game is over,

as the Indians beat the Tigers
five to four.

Harris struggled, but picked up
his ninth win of the season.

Frank, I need a car, quick,

and mine's on the other side
of the stadium.

-Take the bullpen car.
-Yeah.

Whose place are we at this time?

Mine.

Did you follow me again?

I spotted you in the stands.

Figured you wanted
to see me about something.

I just wanted to see you play.

How was I?

You ought to open your stance a little.
They're pitching you inside.

I'll try that.

What's all this?

I'm moving in with Tom.

-Going uptown, huh?
-No.

Not going uptown.

Just want to lead a regular life,
you know. Like an adult, maybe?

You think I can't lead a regular life?

Oh, God, Jake.

Do you like the life you've had?

You like hanging out with the boys,
living in hotels,

having girls send you
their underwear in the mail.

Remember the surprise party
I threw for you on your birthday?

You never showed up,

but the doorbell rang once,
and we all got real quiet

and hid behind the furniture.

It was a guy to serve you
with a paternity suit.

That was a hoax.
The girl was looking for some publicity.

Yeah, but you'd obviously been with her.

And it happened
in front of all of our friends.

Those days are gone, Lynn.

I'm just a guy
trying to put his life back together.

I've come back to you
so many times, Jake.

I can't afford to believe you anymore.

Well,

I guess this is our last hurrah, then.

Yeah. I guess so.

Hey,

did you ever read Moby Dick?

Cover to cover, babe.

When's the wedding?

October 3rd.

Your folks like this guy?

You're still their favorite.

-Gonna be a big wedding?
-No, Tom doesn't like big weddings.

You know, you could have read
Plot Outlines of 101 Great Novels.

-Where?
-At any library.

-No, no, no. Where's the wedding?
-Oh, All Saints, on Euclid.

-Nice church.
-Yeah.

-Who saved Ishmael at the end?
-What?

Nobody. It was Queequoc's...
Queequeg's coffin.

Yeah.

-Am I invited?
-Where?

-To the wedding.
-Yeah.

-Lynn?
-What?

The zipper on your skirt's stuck.

Use your imagination.

You know, this doesn't change anything.

We were always good at this.

We're 60 and 60.
Nine games out of first.

Who do these guys think they are?

Maybe you just have to accept the fact
they're not as bad as you hoped.

I don't have to accept anything.

Attendance is only just
beginning to rise.

If we can force a losing streak,
we can still turn this thing around.

What's left to do?
You've taken away everything you can.

Not everything.

Hey, Ricky, I'll trade you Song of
Hiawatha for The Deerslayer.

Nah, I'm not into Song of Hiawatha.

Veg-head, I think I got one here
that's right up your alley.

Crime and Punishment.

Hey, is that a detective story? Yeah?

"Wild Thing" Vaughn

roughed up in his only other
appearance against the Yankees,

in a little jam here.

He fanned Burton to open the inning,

walked Saslow,
gave up a double to Billy Leff,

which will bring up Haywood,

who leads the league
in most offensive categories,

including nose hair.

When this guy sneezes,
he looks like a party favor.

Taylor, they ain't released you yet?

Haywood's a convicted felon,
isn't he, Monte?

-Doesn't really say it here.
-Well, he should be.

Vaughn among the league leaders
in strikeouts now,

up on the rubber and ready to work.

And from the wind-up, here he comes.

Haywood swings and crushes one
towards South America.

Tomlinson's gonna need a visa
to catch this one.

It is out of here,
and there's nothing left but a vapor trail.

Vaughn continues to have problems
with Haywood and the Yankees.

Oh, boy.

Hi, Lou.

Donovan, what are you doing here?

Well, I just wanted to get back out
on the road again.

You know, you had a hell of a road trip.
You nearly pulled that one out today.

Someday we'll figure out
how to beat those guys.

You know, you've done
a great job this year.

60 and 61 is hardly a great job.

With this club, it is.

You know, there's a lot of talent
on this club, Charlie.

The veterans are starting to play
back to form,

and the rookies are developing faster
than I thought.

There's two or three
potential all-stars in there.

I think we're a contender, right now.

You really believe that, don't you?

I know it.

All we need is something
to bring it all together.

Rachel Phelps will never
allow that to happen.

Can I have your attention, please?

I have something I think
you all ought to know about.

It seems that Mrs. Phelps
doesn't think too highly of our worth.

She put this team together

because she thought
we'd be bad enough to finish dead last,

knocking attendance down to the point

where she could move the team
to Miami

and get rid of all of us
for better personnel.

Even me?

Even you, Dorn.

What if we don't finish last?

She'll replace you
with somebody who will.

After this season,
you'll be sent back to the minors

or given your outright release.

Well, then I guess
there's only one thing left to do.

What's that?

Win the whole fucking thing.

-Yeah.
-Yes!

Yes!

Yeah.

Yeah.

I figure it's gonna take
32 more victories to win this thing.

Every time we win, we peel a section.

Yeah.

Come on.

Oh, shit.

Strike!

He's out!

Safe!

-Yeah, man.
-Yes!

Strike!

Strike!

Shit!

He's out!

Hello. Do you know us?
We're a major league baseball team.

But since we haven't won
a pennant in over 30 years,

nobody recognizes us,

not even in our own hometown.

That's why we carry
the American Express card.

No matter how far out of first we are,
it's cool.

You know, it keeps us
from getting shut out

at our favorite hotels
and restaurant-type places.

So, if you're looking
for some big-league clout,

apply for that little green
home-run hitter.

Look what it's done for us.

People still don't recognize us, but...

We're contenders now.

The American Express card.
Don't steal home without it.

Yeah!

Safe!

Cowabunga!

Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.

The incredible has happened.

Even though it comes as no surprise
to this commentator,

the Indians have finished
the regular season in a first-place tie

with the New York Yankees

on the strength of a 4-2 win
over the White Sox

in Chicago today.

All right!

Not bad for a has-been
and a couple of never-will-be's, huh?

Yeah. Yeah.

We haven't won anything yet.
Still got one game to go.

The Indians are still savoring
their victory today in Chicago

but are due to leave in a few hours.

We're going to go back now
to Ross Farmer,

who's standing by with the team
at their hotel.

Thank you, Hal. Well, as you can see,

the Indians are in high spirits tonight,

looking forward to their final showdown

with the Yankees.

Who will start that game
is still a matter of some conjecture,

but the smart money is on
the crafty veteran, Eddie Harris,

or the young fireballer,
"Wild Thing" Ricky Vaughn.

Meanwhile, the Yanks have announced

that they will start 20-game winner
Steve Jackson,

a curve-ball specialist who has shut...

You wanted to see me, skip?

Yeah, Rick. Have a seat.

I just wanted to tell you
that I'm starting Harris

against the Yankees tomorrow,

even though I know
it's your turn in the rotation.

He's got a little more experience,

with a bit better record
against the Yankees.

Yeah, I guess what's best for the team.

Don't read anything into it, Rick.

You're one of the guys that got us here.

Hello again, everybody.

Harry Doyle coming to you
live from the stadium,

where the Indians
have just returned home

in preparation
for their one-game play-off

with the New York Yankees
for the Eastern Division Championship.

We'll have interviews
on Indians Powwow at 8:00,

but in the meantime,
get your tomahawks ready, Cleveland.

You're the best!

You mind if I join you?

I don't think I'd be very good company
right now.

-Why not?
-Nothing.

Job problem.

-I'm a ballplayer.
-I know.

But that's not why I came over here.

I don't chase ballplayers.

Why'd you come over here then?

Because you are the sexiest man
I have ever laid eyes on,

and you look like you could use a friend.

Check.

Where are you going?

I've got to get home.

I don't think I ever got your name.

Suzanne. Suzanne Dorn.

Suzanne Dorn?

Mrs. Roger Dorn.

So long. You're a great kid.

Hi, Jake.

I didn't know who she was.
I swear to God.

Got one off the chest,
but he's up with it, and it's over!

Bye-bye, honey. See you at the park.
Wish me luck.

Before you go,

there's something I'd like to tell you.

What?

I don't know what Dorn's wife
is up to, but I think it best

if you get dressed out early
and out to the bullpen

before Dorn hits the clubhouse, okay?

Hey, we got a big problem.

Cerrano wants some
extra power for tonight.

He's looking to sacrifice a live chicken.

Hey, Jake, man, we can't have people

puking in the locker room
before the game.

God, what next?

All right, tell him not to worry.
I'll think of something. Come on.

Jake.

Where's Vaughn? Seen him around?

If you do, tell him I'd like
to have a little talk with him.

-Thanks, Pepper.
-Yeah.

One whole chicken, just like you said.

Hello again, everybody.

Harry Doyle bidding you
a big Wahoo welcome

from Municipal Stadium,

where tonight, before a capacity crowd
of 75,000 screaming feather-heads,

the fighting braves of the Cuyahoga

will leave their teepees
in search of Cleveland's

first league championship
in over 30 years.

Standing in the way,
their long-time nemesis,

the New York Yankees.

Trying to put the stop on the Yanks
will be Eddie Harris,

the tribe's veteran right-hander.

-Monte, anything to add?
-No.

He's not the best colorman
in the league for nothing, folks.

All right, we're set to go.

-Are you ready?
-We're ready!

Are you ready? Let's take it to 'em!

Two out in the first inning,
and Harris looking very sharp, so far.

The sign from Taylor.
The target goes up, and the pitch.

Here's a bouncer to third,
easy play for Dorn.

Fires across to Metcalfe,
and the Yankees are gone in the first.

Bottom of the third,

Cerrano swings and misses,
strike three.

Springer leads away from first.

Harris comes to the plate,
Taylor, snap throw to first, got him!

Springer is picked off.

Jackson deals. Hayes pops it up,

and that will do it
for the Indians in the fourth.

Harris delivers.
K-Y ball hit toward the hole.

Hey, great stop by Dorn!
Throws in time, and he got him.

A curve ball,
and down goes Cerrano again.

Strike!

Williams swings and drives one deep.

Back goes Hayes. Way back to the wall.

Jumps, and makes a great catch!

What a play, and the Yankees
are turned away in the sixth!

Still nothing-nothing.
Top of the seventh, with two out.

Harris has been in trouble,
but has battled his way out

with the help of some
great defensive plays.

All right, here's Burton coming on.

Harris, from the stretch, is ready,
and here he comes to Burton.

He swings and drives one to right field.

Uh-oh, this one is way back, way back.
It is off the reservation.

A home run, and the Yankees now lead
two to nothing.

That ought to shut these people up.

Well, the Indians have been
living dangerously all night,

and Burton finally burned them.

One down, bottom of the seventh.

Taylor hits a ground ball to short.
Danello up with it.

On to first in time,
and Taylor is hobbling a little

as he goes back to the dugout.

-Now batting, number 24.
-Go, Roger.

Third baseman, Roger Dorn.

Dorn up.
Two men out, bottom of the seventh.

The Indians running out of chances.

Dorn, off to a slow start this year,

has come on lately,
hitting .271, with 86 RBIs.

Here's the wind-up,
and the pitch to him.

And he swings and drives
a base hit to left field.

And the Indians have a runner here
with two men out

on a sharp single to left by Dorn.

All right. That'll bring up Cerrano,
the big man, with two away,

and he represents the tying run.

Now batting, number 13,
Pedro Cerrano.

Cerrano hitless tonight.

As a matter of fact,
he hasn't touched the ball yet.

-Pedro! Pedro! Pedro!
-Pedro! Pedro! Pedro!

Cerrano ready now.

Here's the pitch. Swings and misses.

We should have gotten a live chicken.

Cerrano digging in. Down a strike.

Jackson gets his sign, and comes set.

Checks Dorn at first. Here's the pitch.

A curve ball. Swung on and missed.

Strike two, and Cerrano
wasn't even close to that one.

Pissed off now, Jobu.

Look, I good to you. I stick up for you.

If you no help me now,

I say, fuck you, Jobu. I do it myself.

Jackson wants a new sign.
Now he's got what he likes.

Here's the pitch to Cerrano.

He swings, and drives one to deep left.

Way back! Way back! This ball is gone!

Yeah!

Jobu! Yes!

Sit down, Charlie.

Welcome to the happy hunting ground!

The Indians have tied it at two

on a two-run blast by Cerrano.

Two outs, top of the ninth,
still tied at two.

Harris working on a seven-hitter.

Here's the pitch.
Saslow hits a long drive.

This one's gonna get
over Cerrano's head and off the wall.

Cerrano up with it.
Fires it back in, Marx digging for third.

Saslow into second
with a standing double,

and the Yankees have runners
at second and third,

as Harris is now beginning to show
signs of fatigue.

Shit!

Get Vaughn up.

Activity continues in the bullpen.

Harris is in real trouble now.

He got the first two hitters,
then gave up a single and a double,

and has now gone 3 and 0 to Cheevers.

Harris sets, checks the runners.

Comes to the plate. High, ball four,

and the bases are loaded,
and that's gonna bring up

Clue Haywood, the biggest
Indian-killer of them all.

Taylor and Brown
on their way to the mound,

and this could be all for Harris.
He has pitched a beauty.

How's it holding, Eddie?
You look a little tired.

I'm throwing every piece of junk
I can think of at 'em, skipper.

I got enough left for one more hitter.

Nah.
You pitched a hell of a game there.

Take a seat, and we'll see
if we can get this guy out for you.

-All right.
-Good game, Eddie.

Give me Vaughn.

You want Vaughn?

I know he hasn't done
very well against this guy,

but I got a hunch he's due.

Good job. Good job.

Wild thing

You make my heart sing

I hate this fucking song.

Come on, wild thing

Wild thing, I think I love you

But I wanna know for sure

Okay, Ricky.

Haywood likes the hard stuff
out over the plate,

so bust him in,
and don't get up with anything.

-You listening to me, Rick?
-Yeah.

Okay, you're my man. Go get him, kid.

This guy's the out
you've been waiting your whole life for.

Wild thing

Come on, wild thing

Come on, come on, come on, wild thing

Shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it

Wild thing

Come on, come on, wild thing

So, a surprise move by Brown here,
bringing in the Wild Thing,

who's been shelled
in two outings against the Yankees.

Oh, shit.

Let's cut through the crap, Vaughn.
I only got one thing to say to you.

Strike this motherfucker out!

Okay, the conference
on the mound is over,

and we are ready to go.

Now batting, number six,
first baseman, Clue Haywood.

Haywood steps in,

the American League's
Triple Crown winner.

.341 average, 48 homers, 121 RBIs.

He's homered the only two times
he's faced Vaughn.

All right, Ricky. Let's get nasty.

Haywood's set at the plate.

Vaughn, from the wind-up...

Swing and a miss.

That sucker was moving, wasn't it?

If it hit you, it'd leave
a two-foot hole coming out.

Okay, what shall we call now?

Let's see what the kid feels
about the old number one.

Wild Thing delivers. Strike two!

Fuck!

Forget about the curve ball, Ricky.
Give him the heater.

Now, shit.
All these pitches to choose from.

Maybe we ought to try
something different this time.

-Got him swinging!
-Strike three!

All right, Ricky! Yeah!

Oh, Lordy! Three straight heaters,
and the Yankees are blown down.

No runs, two hits, three left on.

And are you ready, Cleveland?

We go to the Indian ninth
still tied at two.

Can you believe this, Monte?

One down in the ninth.
Jackson delivers, Tomlinson swings

and drives one deep to right field!

Back goes Worberg
and makes the catch against the wall.

Tomlinson gave it a ride,
but came up short.

That's gonna bring a visit to the mound.

And Horton wasting no time.
He's going to the Duke.

The Duke leads the league
in saves, strikeouts per inning

and hit batsmen.

This guy threw at his own kid
in a father-son game.

Now batting, number double zero,
center fielder Willie Mays Hayes.

Two down now, as Hayes steps in,
hitting .291.

Trying to get something going
for the tribe.

The Duke, who's been overpowering
down the stretch,

has not been scored upon
in his last 16 appearances.

The Duke ready now and delivers.
Here's a high chopper towards short.

Danello charges. Can he get him? No!

-Safe!
-Hayes beat it!

All right!

-Going somewhere, meat?
-About 90 feet.

Number seven, catcher Jake Taylor.

Taylor to the plate.

He's 0 for 12 against the Duke, lifetime.

The Duke has his sign and is ready.

Hayes with a good lead.

-Go! Go! Go! Go!
-Go! Go! Go! Go!

A quick move by the Duke,
and Hayes just beat it back.

Safe!

Hayes leads away again.

Tie game, 2-2, two outs in the ninth,

and the winning run at first.

Hayes out to a big lead now.

Hayes goes!

Come on!

Come on, Willie.

Here's the throw.

-Safe!
-Yeah!

Yeah!

All right, Willie! Way to go!

-Whoo! All right!
-You, man! You, man!

It's up to Taylor now,

as the Indians have the winning run
in scoring position.

That's a hell of an idea.

What's this?
Taylor is pointing to the bleachers.

He's calling his shot.

Nobody's done this since Babe Ruth
in the '32 World Series.

Hayes leads from second,
as Duke takes his stretch.

The pitch.

Look out! Down goes Taylor!

Come on, hairball!
Cut down on that shit, man!

Bring that shit to me, man.

Taylor back up,
refusing to dust himself off

after Duke gave him a little chin music.

Taylor's pointing again!

Unbelievable. They're on their feet here,
stomping, clapping.

Come on.
Join in wherever you are out there.

Let's hear you, Cleveland!

-Go, go, go!
-Go, go, go!

Taylor waits at the plate.

The Duke at the belt.
Hayes away from second.

Here comes the 1-1 pitch.

Taylor bunts.

Shit.

Safe!

Hayes around third!
He's gonna try to score!

Here comes the throw.

He slides! He is...

Safe! Safe!

And the Indians win it!
The Indians win it!

Oh, my God! The Indians win it!

I can't believe it!

We did it! We did it!