Eephus (2024) Movie Script

1
(uplifting theme playing)
(small dog barking in distance)
(dramatic theme playing)
BRANCH (over radio):
It's the top of the hour,
and welcome back
to Before We Begin.
I'm Branch Moreland.
Accident report
for Hillsborough County:
On Route 472
in Bridgeridge,
a pickup truck lost its brakes
and skidded off the road
for about 500 feet.
Thank God this happened
in Bridgeridge,
otherwise,
he might have hit something.
A top story of the day.
The coyote terrorizing
local dogs
has been killed in a display
of New Hampshire
cowboy justice,
which means in ten days
it'll be safe for everyone
to celebrate Halloween.
So bring your dogs
trick or treating.
But of course, make sure
not to give them any chocolate.
Um, plenty of Halloween
activities in the area
the rest of the month
to keep you busy
as the weather
gets colder.
Unfortunately, the Topbury
candy corn eating competition
is not happening this year,
'cause the whiz kid
who can count really fast
and tallied
all the candy corns,
his family moved away.
(clears throat)
And speaking of counting,
it's official.
A vote has been passed
to begin construction
on the currently
unnamed middle school
in Douglas
within the next three weeks.
The Hillsborough County Board
approved measures
to repurpose county land
in the center of Douglas
to build that school.
It's the biggest construction
project in town in years,
but it means building
on top of Soldiers Field,
where recreational
baseball teams from Douglas
and adjoining towns
have faced off for decades.
As of yet,
we don't know of any plans
to build a new ball field,
but I'm told
the neighboring soccer field
will remain as a site
for gym class activities.
Parents
in the North County area
will surely be delighted.
No more driving
25 miles or more
-to Rumsack Middle School...
-(static crackling)
...especially
with a long, cold winter
-just around the corner.
-(static and interference)
I know many parents who--
(radio broadcast stops)
FRANNY (echos a la Lou Gehrig):
Today, day, day...
I consider myself, self, self...
the luckiest man, man, man...
-on the face of--
-ED: Hey, Franny.
You peeping
at the neighbors again?
(both laugh)
-Sunny day, Ed?
-ED: Yeah.
Can't ask for much more.
Heh. Cool and dry.
-It's a pitcher's wind.
-You got that right, Franny.
-(Ed laughs)
-Ball won't carry.
Wood bats harden up.
Stings the ball.
(Ed laughs)
Oh, thank God the Marines
are here.
-(baseball playing over radio)
-Honey, we're free.
What's in the bag,
Glen?
Last game fireworks.
Big ones.
It's like watching
an angel puke.
Out-fucking-standing.
I can respect a man
carrying a big artillery.
GLEN: I brought
the ordinance, brother.
HOST (over radio):
Overseeing the construction
is Graham Morris.
Mr. Morris,
will construction
begin this week?
GRAHAM:
It won't be until November.
There's still baseball
being played
at the field
the land is on.
HOST: Do you think
people are going to miss
the old baseball field,
or more glad
to not have to drive
to Rumsack?
GRAHAM:
I don't know--
(rock music playing)
We meet again, boss.
You're leadoff, right?
Shortstop?
Last two times we played,
you struck me out.
Now I got you
figured out.
Yeah, well, it's
your last chance to prove it.
CHUCK:
Ayy-up!
Hey, these
are for after, okay?
No boozing on the mound.
Not till after the ninth,
when I pitch a no hitter.
(chuckles)
LOUIS:
Watch the rash.
CLARK: Louis, I've been
doing this so long,
I know your body better
than your wife does.
Just don't tell
your wife.
Hey, what's a young gun
like that gonna do after this?
After what?
After this goes the way
of the Hindenburg.
Hell, what are these guys
gonna do?
I don't know.
I just don't have the energy
for all that, you know?
Looking up all the movies,
then driving
to all the theaters.
Yeah, I'm into reading books.
I just got a book
that doesn't have any pictures.
My wife loves
all the ads.
Yeah. Any skin flicks?
Definitely not
in a theater.
That's all right,
I don't watch that shit anyway.
-I'm gonna tell your wife.
-Go ahead. We got an agreement.
She likes game shows
and I like pornos.
-Is there a porno game show?
-JOHN: Probably in Japan.
-Hey, guys.
-JOHN: Or Texas.
I just want to say good luck.
And it's what's in here, right?
That's what counts.
Hey, Franny.
Am I late?
What's the score?
-(both laugh)
-Bill Belinda.
I was just writing
your name--
-Bill Belinda.
-Yeah, it's a good one.
My mom really knocked it out
of the park with that one.
Kids coming today?
They'll be here.
If you see 'em first,
tell 'em
their old man's coming home
with the game ball.
RICH: C'mon, kid.
Don't pull out.
Hands and hips.
Stay square.
Keep your head down.
Rich, he plays college.
He's better than you.
What do you know?
Logan, are you better
than Rich?
I am considerably...
(exhales)
...better than Rich.
You know what, Derek?
I'm gonna fuck up
your good knee.
HOST (over radio):
Well, the bell just rung.
Looks like school's out for us,
which means we are headed
to a word from our sponsors.
-GRAHAM: Got a ball, Glen?
-GLEN: Got two.
-GRAHAM: Let's go. Here we go.
-ROBERT (over radio):
For 20 years,
my family told me
I make awesome steaks.
I'm Robert Brendan,
and I'm delighted to invite you
to my brand new restaurant.
We know you love beef,
steak tips
and everything in between.
And we'd love to have you
at Robert Brendan's Restaurant.
Next time
you're driving through Nashua,
look for the giant sign
with my initials on it.
Bring your whole family.
We can't wait for them
to find out about RB's.
WOMAN: The prime rib was
melt-in-your-mouth outrageous.
It came with green beans...
Hey, it's Merritt.
Ayy-up!
It's Eephus Boy.
(chattering in distance)
FRANNY:
Hey, Riverdogs.
Who's your ninth player?
RICH:
Aw, shit. Where's Garrett?
We only have eight.
-ED: That's a forfeit.
-Hold on.
Can't play with eight.
Need nine.
They have 11.
You can make a trade.
Otherwise,
I'm going home.
-We're the away team, right?
-LOUIS: Yes.
-So we bat first?
-That's right.
I'm warmed up.
I say we play.
Yeah, c'mon,
let's just do this.
(folk music playing over radio)
Has anyone heard
from Garrett?
He told me he'd be here.
Well, he better bat eighth
because I can't bat for shit.
Garrett will bat ninth.
He'll be here by then.
Fellas,
it's the last game.
(whispering)
It's the last game.
I don't care.
It's a forfeit
when his spot comes up.
That's it.
It'll be a quick game.
You go to first.
All right.
It's a forfeit
when his spot comes up.
-RICH: Let's go!
Take the field.
-Nice.
JOHN:
All right boys, let's do this.
RICH: Boys, let's go, last one.
Make it count.
-MAN 1: Are you ready, or what?
-KEVIN: Hey, Ed, try not
to get my jersey dirty
for the finale.
If I gotta dive
for any grounders,
it means
you pitched shitty.
MAN 2:
Goddamn it, John.
JOHN:
Pick it up, Kevin. Jesus Christ!
RICH:
Infield flies only, Kevin.
JOHN:
All right, Ed, let's do this.
GRAHAM:
One, two, three, gentlemen.
One, two, three. We dancin'.
(music playing over radio)
(church bell ringing)
FRANNY: "If your uniform
don't get dirty,
ya ain't done nothin'."
Rickey Henderson.
(chuckles)
All right, guys.
Don't let nothing get by ya.
I don't care if it's
gotta hit you in the mouth.
Gentlemen,
let's play.
AP SHORTSTOP:
Don't be slouching out there.
-(Louis speaks indistinctly)
-Okay, Ed.
-Here we go.
-Show 'em what you got.
MAN 1:
Let's go, Wilton!
-(bat strikes ball)
-(players cheer)
-LOUIS: Batter's out!
-AP SHORTSTOP: Anywhere else.
PRESTON:
Motherfucker!
(players chattering)
(chuckles)
That's one
for the history books.
(chuckles)
GRAHAM:
Nice swing, Wilton.
Tough break, kid.
(hip-hop music playing
over radio)
If he strikes out, we're
one out away from forfeiting.
End of my baseball career.
You can always join
the Merrimack County League.
I'm not driving two towns over
to play at Dustice Park.
-(bat strikes ball)
-MAN: Fuck!
-Dig it out, dig it out.
-(players chattering)
Dig it out,
dig it out.
-CLARK: Safe!
-Nice.
Still alive.
MAN 1:
Sun's in my eyes. Sorry.
MAN 2: Worst part
of this sport is the running.
GLEN:
Amen to that.
AP SHORTSTOP:
Watch out.
ANNOUNCER (over P.A.):
Now batting,
King of the Riverdogs,
Destroyer of Fields,
Graham Morris.
WILTON: Get up and hit it,
Graham. Whoo...
All right, Ed.
Easy out.
(hip-hop music playing
over radio)
KEVIN:
Turn two, boys. C'mon.
RICH:
Hey, Ed, plunk him.
Maybe he'll forget
to destroy the field.
(dog barking in distance)
-(ball smacks mitt)
-LOUIS: Low.
-(hip-hop music continues)
-Fuck.
Anybody chew tobacco
anymore?
You're not a bunch
of vegetarians?
Birds eat seeds.
Good eye, Graham.
I'm a shelled
peanut guy.
Ah, Christ.
RICH:
Ed, high heat.
Bust him in his head.
(player speaks indistinctly
in distance)
Ball four.
-MAN 1: Good eye!
-MAN 2: There we go!
MAN 3:
You're on.
Well, sayonara,
Soldiers Field.
Walk, walk, walk.
JOHN:
Settle down there.
MAN 4:
Heart of the order, Ed.
JOHN:
Don't let him rattle you.
-(bat strikes ball)
-MAN 5: Pick it up!
-AP SHORTSTOP:
Bobby, hit cutoff!
-(players clamoring)
Me! Three! Me!
MAN 6:
He's going home!
Three, three,
three, three, three!
(players clamoring)
-JOHN: Boys, closest base!
-WILTON: Let's go, Rich.
MAN 7: Hey, ducks on the pond,
Rich, give it a ride.
MAN 8:
Bring him home, man.
MAN 9:
Bunt, bunt, bunt!
JOHN:
Oh, fuckin' A! God--!
JOHN:
Get it, Ed, get it!
-MAN 10: Yeah!
-LOUIS: Safe!
-MAN 11: Oh!
-JOHN: Shit!
(player laughing in distance)
-Way to go, Sarge, dig it out.
-LOUIS: Player's out!
(player speaks indistinctly)
Ed, walk this guy
so we can keep playing.
Not gonna happen.
-(Bill groans in pain)
-LOUIS: Dead ball.
(Bill mockingly laughs)
BILL:
Man, good thing the kids
weren't here to see that.
You're all right, right?
-BILL: I'm okay, Ed.
-LOUIS: Take your base,
Billy-anna.
ED: Yeah, he's OK. It's part
of the game. He's all right.
MAN 1:
Let's go, Ed.
Can you believe this?
Let's get out of this.
-We're down two already.
-PRESTON: Come on, Ed.
Bottom of the lineup here.
We should get out of this.
JOHN:
Turn two, guys. Any base.
Did you guys start
playing already?
-Garrett, you're up!
-GARRETT: Who's up?
-You're up. Let's go!
-I'm up?
-Come on!
-Awesome.
-MAN: Come on, let's go!
-TROY: Here you go, buddy.
-TROY: Here you go.
-Thanks, chief.
-TROY: It's good to see ya.
-Hey, sorry I'm late.
JOHN: Wanna take a second
to stretch or something?
-Nah.
-All right kid, your funeral.
I stretched
on the drive here.
-(players cheer)
-(Garrett grunts)
(players groan)
MAN:
Come on, man.
What are you doing?
Thanks for showing up, Garrett!
(laughs)
GARRETT:
Hey, Tim.
Close one there.
Close one there,
huh, Franny?
Almost had a short day
at the park.
-Hey.
-Hey.
You get out
of rehearsal early?
No, that was yesterday.
I was just
in the neighborhood.
-Good luck!
-Thanks.
Good day for ball, Blue.
Sorry again for the wait.
JOHN: Yeah, more like
a good day for blue balls.
GLEN:
Here we go.
MAN 1:
Hey, settle in, four, settle in.
(train horn blaring in distance)
WILTON:
Come on, now, Troy.
Right down the middle.
LOUIS:
Steee-rike.
(batter speaks Spanish)
This your first game?
We just started dating.
I don't really know
a whole lot about baseball.
(players chattering)
JOHN: He looks like
he's swinging a lead pipe.
He's got this.
He's got this.
LOUIS:
Strike three!
-(player gasps)
-Oh, looks like somebody forgot
to hit the cages
this week.
ED: Cages don't have
a drunk pitcher option.
JOHN: Did you forget to hit
the cage this week, Adrian?
He's fucking throwing meatballs.
Looks like he's throwing
a whole pasta primavera
from here.
(sighs)
Fucking Italian dinner.
Fucking spaghetti dinner.
With wine.
Candles.
(players clamoring)
GARRETT:
Play's to first!
-MAN: Get to it!
-GLEN: Billy boy!
GLEN:
Nice throw, Billy, nice throw.
RICH:
Very nice play, Bill.
Fine and dandy.
Fine and dandy.
(chuckles)
-MAN 1: Knockin' 'em down.
-MAN 2: Great range, Bill.
MAN 1: One down.
Same thing, Troy.
(player breathing heavy
doing exercises in distance)
(church bell tolling
in distance)
(grunting)
All right,
here we go, Troy.
Strike three!
-GARRETT: Whoo!
-(players clamoring)
Low strike zone
today, boys.
GRAHAM:
Nice job, nice job.
JOHN: Hey, Blue,
how much are they giving you?
-TIM: Let's go, boys.
-JOHN: What the hell?
NARRATOR 1 (over radio):
As an athlete, there's
nothing spookier than losing,
that's why this Halloween,
we have a special deal
at MG Sports,
where there's more than
just bats and balls:
nets, pucks,
and all manner of shoes.
And don't get caught
with a bad bat.
And I don't mean the kind
that follows Dracula around.
We have 22% off
all wooden bats this week.
GLEN: Can you fuckin'
believe it, boys?
$32.95 all in at Lloyd's.
Can't even get a pack
of Cloud Blasters
for that price.
And with these,
I get twice the power.
Three times the boom.
Three times, huh?
Guy, they were
giving 'em away.
They were so cheap
I had to buy eight of them.
I drove by Lloyd's.
That deal is for $39.99.
Why would you lie about that?
-Thanksgiving?
-Think there's
a sound ordinance.
Who's ever heard of fireworks
on Thanksgiving?
MAN: Hey, why don't you give
the extras to Graham
for when the school opens?
-DEREK: How's that going anyway?
-LOUIS: Strike three!
GRAHAM:
You know, it's underway.
I try not to talk too much
about work on the weekends.
Nice try, Troy.
All right, so we wake
the neighbors with these
and then we hit
Jumpin' Aces after?
I love that bar.
GLEN:
It's great.
Sliders and shooters deal
on Sundays.
Isn't that Saturdays?
-Sundays.
-Is it?
I get fucked up
there on Sundays.
-(bat strikes ball)
-MAN 1: All right. Yeah!
MAN 2: Left, left, left, left,
left, left, left, left, left.
-GLEN: Double!
-MAN 2: Right there, cut it!
MAN 3:
To me! Turn to me!
-CLARK: Out.
-WILTON: Oh, man.
-Nice throw, T.
-WILTON: You got me back.
Oh, no, that was easy.
We're not even yet.
GLEN: Little greedy there,
big guy, huh?
-(sighs)
-GLEN: You rat bastard.
(sighs) I had
a fun pitch to hit, man.
(players chattering in distance)
GARRETT:
Play's to first.
(folk music playing
over radio in distance)
MAN: Hey, bat on ball,
bat on ball.
Oh, yeah.
(speaking
indistinctly)
Wha-ooh
Wha-ooh
Ah, it was, uh...
Wha-ooh
(speaking indistinctly)
-(bat strikes ball)
-Oh.
-MAN: Whoo!
-Mother McCree.
Ay-up!
(Eddie and Joe laughing)
JOE:
Why does he run like a penguin?
(laughter continues)
JOHN: Move your ass,
you fuckin' ballerina!
Hey, bro,
you want some?
Hey, buddy,
you got the time?
Yeah, time for you
to fuck right off.
What's the score?
LEFT FIELDER:
Two-nothing.
How many touchdowns?
You know what?
Why don't you two weasel dicks
go fuck with the soccer players
over there?
They don't have a baseball bat
like I do.
LOUIS (in distance):
Play ball!
(church bell tolling)
FRANNY:
"A game of inches.
A game of inches."
Branch Rickey.
MAN 1: Pound the zone, four.
Right at him here.
MAN 2: Got him right
in your sights, baby, come on.
-(ball smacks in glove)
-LOUIS: Strike three!
Strike zone's at home plate,
not first base. Heh.
-(bats clatter)
-Can't get anything going
if we don't get
a call our way, Blue.
PRESTON: Bullshit, man!
That was at my Adam's apple.
And you've got
a giraffe neck, so, that's bad.
KEVIN: We play
through the calls, boys.
-You can't!
-CHUCK: Oh, Mother McCree.
Guy needs an optical exam.
Well, to be fair,
I think we could all use
some medical work.
Yeah, I got
a herniated disk
putting paper
in my printer.
MAN:
Come on, look alive, guys.
It hurts so bad.
Medical bills...
-(bat strikes ball)
-Call it!
-We got it.
-(players groaning)
Nice.
Two down!
Family good, Bill?
-Eh, chuggin' along.
-The kids?
Getting older,
talking back.
-They here?
-They will be.
Two down.
MAN 1: You got this, Troy.
Let's go, baby.
MAN 2: All right, Troy,
right at him, Troy.
MAN 3:
Here you go, wait for yours.
MAN 2:
We got two.
MAN 4:
Come on now, Troy.
(bat strikes ball)
MAN 5:
Oh, Miss Anna.
MAN 6:
Play's to one, play's to one.
-(Troy laughing)
-MAN 6: You got plenty of time.
(man 7 yelling indistinctly)
MAN 6:
There it is, Troy.
MAN 7:
Gotta rub it.
Come on, now.
We got him out,
game boy.
TROY:
We got him.
(hip-hop music
playing over radio)
That's your beer now.
Don't put it back in the cooler.
(sighs)
GRAHAM: Hey, Wilton,
how's your arm today?
It's all good, boss.
Whatever you need.
-GRAHAM: Great.
-Easy there, captain.
Troy'll give you nine.
Hit him with a shovel,
he'll still give you nine.
Yeah, he didn't even feel that.
Guy's on Pluto right now.
He'll finish.
Keep your ears open,
fellas, this one's gonna
be a barn burner.
-(baseball game
playing on radio)
-Who's playing?
What's the score?
GRAHAM:
It's from 1972.
ANNOUNCER (over radio):
Breaking pitch just misses
inside to Robinson.
Two balls, two strikes.
(light Italian music
playing over speakers)
MALLINARI (over P.A.):
One dollar colas.
Sausage.
Pepperoni.
Cheese.
Right here, right now.
Grandma Mallinari's
famous recipe.
Grand slam
with a slice today.
Crispy crust. Dough.
-LOUIS: Strike three!
-JOHN: That's it, baby!
-JOHN: There we go!
-MAN: You're okay.
JOHN:
That's one, boys!
Front of the box, kid.
Shake it off.
MALLINARI: Nice and red,
the way Nonna made it.
(Italian music
continues playing)
Eh.
MAN 1: Hey, you think
you're gonna grab a slice later?
-KEVIN: Eh.
-LOUIS: Ball.
-MAN 2: C'mon, Blue!
-KEVIN: Not if I don't
pay for it.
They're fresh, hot and ready.
Sounds like
your girlfriend, Kev!
-(dog barking in distance)
-MAN 3: Wait for yours.
LOUIS:
One ball, two strikes.
I'm sorry, Kev. You know
I'm just screwing around.
-KEVIN: Just rude, Bobby.
-Okay.
That's just rude.
LOUIS:
Full count!
Bobby...
You gonna get us a pie later?
-For the last game?
-Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
What do you like on it?
BOBBY:
I was thinking cheese?
Yeah, Bobby,
you seem like a fruit...
-(bat strikes ball)
-...on pizza kind of guy.
Oh, Mother McCree.
AP SHORTSTOP: Cut off,
cut off at second!
-MAN 4: Dig it out!
-JOHN: Move your ass, Chuck!
GLEN:
Do I go? Do I go?
GLEN:
Who's the third base coach?
Who's the third base
coach?
Who's the third base...
coach?
JOHN: Your mother moves faster
than you, you asshole!
ED: What are you,
a bunch of fucking ballerinas?
Make the plays!
-MAN: That's it.
-GLEN: Thanks.
GLEN:
Well, shit.
I guess I'll be
my own third base coach.
AP SHORTSTOP:
Watch him, Preston.
All right, Murray.
As the third base coach,
here are the secret signs.
Well, Coach Glen,
what does that mean?
It means
that on any passed ball,
we're gonna steal home.
Well, Coach Glen,
you must think
I'm some kind
of fast spring ch--
-LOUIS: He's out!
-Fuck, Glen!
What are you, six?
Goofy son of a bitch.
JOHN: All right, boys,
keep it up, let's go!
Last game.
Dickhead.
MALLINARI (over P.A.):
Six dollars a pie.
FRANNY:
Another zero.
All the toppings
you could ever want.
One dollar colas.
Sausage. Pepperoni.
MAN:
That's a pretty cloud.
Cheese.
Right here, right now.
PLAYER:
Let's go, Troy.
Grandma Mallinari's
famous recipe.
Grand slam
with a slice today.
Red peppers. Green peppers.
Nice and red,
the way Nonna made it.
Crispy crust.
(sighs)
Extra hot. Extra cheesy.
Right here. Right now.
You play ball, kid?
Yeah.
Red peppers.
Do yourself a favor.
Don't.
Artichoke hearts.
LOUIS (in distance):
Strike! You're out!
$1.50 a slice.
Six dollars a pie.
Go get me a pack of smokes,
will ya?
Ice cold colas, one dollar.
MALLINARI: I've been thinking
about retirement.
Or at least getting out
on the road.
Driving,
driving this truck,
maybe...
all the way to the desert.
To New Mexico. To Montana.
LOUIS:
Strike three!
(bat clatters on ground)
I can't fucking bat
with the fucking hoagie opera
out there.
MAN:
I got this, D!
MALLINARI (over P.A.):
Six dollars a pie.
Fuckin' shit.
This has gotta be hell
on your diet, dude.
(groaning)
Why don't you take
a cheat day?
You know,
get something to eat?
Pepperoni.
(whispers)
He must be starving.
I got something
for you.
Ah. Little snack
for my big guy.
Oh. Oh--
You two are a fuckin regular
Laurel and Hardy, aren't ya?
Are you hungry, Howie?
No, I don't think so.
-No?
-No.
I'm just saying,
Mr. Mallinari is here
and I can get you a pizza
if you want one.
(laughs)
Pizza. We don't eat pizza
at ballgames.
-Really?
-Hot dogs.
Eaten a lot of hot dogs
in your day?
Oh, loads and loads
of, uh, hot dogs, really.
Uh, ball fields,
diners.
Probably ate
at all the diners in town.
And they're mostly gone now,
the diners.
But hot dogs
will always be here.
And that's a good thing.
Nobody knows this,
but our town
is the only town in the region
that has triangular manholes.
JOHN: All right,
guys up there, watch the ball.
No shit.
MALLINARI (over P.A.):
Mr. Mallinari's pizza.
What shape
does everyone else use?
Circular.
Sausage.
I had no idea there was
a baseball field right here.
I've been driving this
all around.
Main Street in Wooten.
Keene Pond Park.
LOUIS (in distance):
Strike two!
What do they need
a school for?
I mean, you know...
To learn, I guess.
But kids learn on the job.
I mean,
they don't need a school,
you know, practical day in
and day out kind of thing.
Flipping burgers,
cooking hot dogs
at hot dog stands.
Sausage.
Pepperoni.
Cheese.
I hate this goddamn business.
(Italian music continues
over P.A.)
(bat strikes ball)
...famous recipe.
MAN 1: That's you, Bill!
That's you, Bill!
-MAN 2: Let's go, big man!
-MAN 1: Hey!
-(bat strikes ball)
-FRANNY: Well done.
Circles?
So the workers could
roll them.
FRANNY: The foundry made
triangular manholes in the '20s.
If you get your hands on one,
you could probably command
a high bid at an auction.
Some people say it reminds them
of the recycling symbol,
but every year they replace
a few more with the circulars.
Just another thing to write
into the history books.
BOBBY:
Huh, truck's leaving.
AP SHORTSTOP:
Hey, right at him, four.
(players chattering)
NARRATOR 1 (over radio):
We've got 'em at Jumpin' Aces
Bar and Grill.
Cheeseburger sliders
and shooters of the hard stuff.
Pick your poison.
And all season long,
we've got cowboy sliders.
That's right.
They've got an onion ring
on 'em.
NARRATOR 2: You can lead
a horse to water.
But you can lead a man
to Jumpin' Aces.
Nice meeting you.
(church bell tolling
in distance)
MAN: You think bunt
was named after somebody?
I knew someone in high school
named Terry Foul.
Where's he off to?
Beats me.
But if I had to guess,
Suzie Q's probably dragging him
off to Niagara Falls again.
No way I could focus
if my wife was here.
Yeah.
That's probably why...
he never goes and plays
where it matters.
If I was him,
I'd go play in Florida.
Yeah. Get in front
of the guys
that can make something
happen for him.
Fuckin' shame.
Kid's got what it takes.
MAN 1:
Let's go, Graham.
MAN 2:
Let's go, Graham.
ED: Well, here,
it's just one big backyard.
My backyard.
Till fuckin Graham builds
that school.
MAN 1:
One down.
Then this dugout becomes
an...art class.
With fuckin' easels.
Then it's off
to Dustice.
Hm.
Well, maybe they'll get married
and they'll have a kid
that goes to school here
and they can draw a painting
of me pitching nine innings
and hittin' a walk off homer.
Yeah.
(bat strikes ball)
MAN 4:
Motherfucker's out.
-Nice out.
-(players clapping)
(commercial playing indistinctly
over radio)
(church bell tolling)
FRANNY:
"It's getting late early."
(Franny scoffs)
Yogi Berra.
Ed keeps saying
he's gonna go nine.
You think
you're pitching today?
I don't think
Ed's gonna be very good
the next couple innings.
LOUIS:
Strike!
Oh, good pitch.
It's a good pitch.
I was looking at the catcher.
I don't like his framing.
But he probably threw
a curveball,
which is
the right move.
Yeah, I think it was.
Oh, definitely.
Curvey.
(church bell tolling)
(sighs)
(man speaking indistinctly
over radio)
Ed throws pretty fast.
He looks good to me.
If Ed were 19,
he could get that fastball
up to 83, 85,
with decent command.
But he's gotta grunt to get
to 75 because he's old.
-(bat strikes ball)
-Oh, you fucking kidding me?
-MAN 1: Get under it!
-MAN 2: Get there, John!
Walk, walk. Walk, walk.
-Ah, Jesus!
-LOUIS: Two down.
DEREK:
He should throw slower.
You can tell that
that pitch is gonna be
coming out of his hands.
Good hustle, man,
good hustle.
I need to be put down.
I still haven't seen you
throw that weird pitch
that Tim was
telling me about.
I throw it sometimes.
I've been here
a few games now.
I don't think I've seen it.
It's a curveball?
Eephus.
God bless you.
Sorry.
What, what is it?
The Eephus pitch is a type
of curveball that is pitched
so unnaturally slow
that it confuses the batter,
and he swings too early
or too late.
You lob it so it looks
like a curveball...
-...but you give it no power--
-(bat strikes ball)
-Double if he can leg this out.
-(players clamoring)
I wish I was sitting down too.
-RICH: Take three! Send him!
-JOHN: Hit the cut!
JOHN:
Go to second! Fuck!
So it's like a curveball
with no power?
DEREK: Your elbow stays
in the same place
that it would
for your curveball.
And you tell the batter
with your hips
that you're throwing hard.
Everybody on the field
is expecting a meatball.
So I give them
a weird meatball.
I throw it right,
and the pitch looks like
it stops in mid air.
-MAN 3: Run! Run!
-MAN 4: Whoo!
-MAN 5: Yeah!
-DEREK: Ed's doing bad.
-COOPER: Ah, c'mon.
-JOHN: Move your ass, Chuck!
COOPER:
We're down two now.
COOPER:
That would suck if we lost
the last game of this park.
RUNNER:
Goddamn it.
You'd get over it.
It's almost Halloween.
Yeah, that's why you
gotta throw the Eephus pitch.
Give the field
the sendoff it deserves.
Oh! Hey, I think,
uh, uh, uh,
Ed just threw an Eephus.
He threw a bad slow pitch.
Yeah, that's...
Isn't that
what an Eephus is?
Maybe if Ed throws it.
(dramatic theme playing)
You can tell
when it's an Eephus.
It stays in the air forever.
You get bored watching it.
I get bored.
And the hitter does,
so he tries
to swing at it like normal.
But it's already past him,
or it waits
until he's done swinging.
The Eephus makes him
lose track of time.
It's pretty mean that way.
LOUIS:
Strike three.
Batter's out.
I like that.
It's kind of like baseball.
I'm looking around
for something to happen.
-(bats clattering in distance)
-Then poof, game's over.
JOHN: All right, guys,
let's keep this going.
(suspenseful theme playing)
(tropical bird squawking)
(echoing)
Boo-ya!
(footsteps echoing)
(thumps on plate echoing)
MAN: All right,
get this guy out, come on.
LOUIS:
Play ball!
Hey, Wilton. Wilton!
Check this out.
Pizza!
Hot, fresh pizza!
Sausage.
RICH (in distance):
Onions.
-RICH: Pepperoni!
-Marinara.
RICH:
Extra cheese!
White Alfredo sauce.
Anchovies.
-LOUIS: Strike.
-Ass!
That's all right,
wait for yours, D.
It's all right, D.
RICH:
Green peppers.
Extra cheese!
-Portabella mushrooms!
-RICH: Mushrooms!
Pulled pork!
-PRESTON: Fresh mozzarella.
-Hot, fresh pizza.
Parmesan cheese.
-CHUCK: Macadamia nuts.
-GLEN: Spicy!
-PRESTON: Marinara!
-RICH: Pine nuts!
GLEN:
Pepperoni!
LOUIS:
Strike two.
(players yelling out
ingredients)
Not a lot wrong
with that one, D.
-RICH: Extra cheese!
-(laughing)
GLEN:
Sausage!
Meatball sub.
Lasagna.
Gabagool.
-Soppressata.
-I'll crack your nose, kid.
LOUIS:
Fellas...
-Right through that damn mask.
-LOUIS: Time!
Fellas! Am I in a deli?
Is this a meat market?
Am I selling you ham?
Cut the shit and play.
GARRETT:
You like pizza on ham?
Pizza on ham?
Ham on pizza.
Yeah, it's pretty good.
Hey, ah, Blue,
did you call A4 yet?
(makes sneezing sound)
Pizza!
-Dead ball!
-Who made that fuckin' noise?
-SEVERAL PLAYERS: Hey, hey!
-Take your base!
Go rub it, man.
Careful, Garrett.
(players chattering)
Put 'er there,
buddy.
You got any more chants,
big guy?
No, sir.
Just goofin'.
-(ball hitting cage wall)
-JOHN: There it is.
JOHN: That's a piece.
Straighten that out.
(player yelling indistinctly)
Just horsing around,
that's all.
You know, it's, uh...
it's important to have
fun when we're out here--
-GLEN: Ah, shit!
-MAN 1: He's goin'!
MAN 2:
Go, go, go! Move, move, move!
-MAN 3: All right!
-By a mile, asshole.
You're not third base
coaching?
No, he'll just ignore
all my signs, no matter what.
But he's quick.
He'll do just fine.
I used to be pretty fast
in my heyday.
ED (laughs):
If you say so.
But I think this is it for me.
They got a league
in Dustice.
No, Miss Anna.
What's wrong
with Dustice?
-(bat strikes ball)
-LOUIS: Full count!
ED: Problem with Dustice,
it's too far.
Game's are
at weird hours.
The place sucks.
It's like
half little league,
half farmers market.
And don't forget
that septic issue too.
You make it
all the way out there,
I wouldn't play
third base.
Heh. Or left field.
JOHN:
Whole fuckin' town stinks!
-JOHN: Fuckin' Dustice.
-Fuckin' Dustice.
Ooh.
Sir Glen Lights
the Sky Up.
Look who it is.
(laughs)
What's in the box?
One more.
Heard you brought
some sky heat.
Little aerial TNT.
Huh?
MAN: He only gives one ball
or two a count.
Sky heat.
(speaking quietly)
Ahh. Oh, yeah.
I got the whole show
planned for after.
We got everything going off
in sequential order.
I light one
and then we let it go up.
And the next one
starts going off,
and by the time
that's done...
-...light the third,
the whole bunch.
-You gonna fuck each other blue?
Jesus, Bobby,
go to second!
(whispers)
Just go ahead, you know.
-Nice goatee, John.
-Shut up, Glen.
Bases loaded, Linda.
Kids might wanna see it.
-(bat strikes ball)
-ED: Go! Go! No!
ED: Get back! Get back!
Get back! Get back!
ED: Go. Go, go, go, go!
Let's go!
-LOUIS: He's out!
-JOHN: Nice pepper!
GARRETT:
Whoo!
Let's go, Logan!
Let's go, baby!
-Attaboy!
-(player laughs)
GRAHAM:
Let's go, boys.
Troy got us out of a jam.
Now let's pick him up.
You've seen this guy's pitches.
Time up that curveball
and let's hang a ten spot
on these guys.
Four-to-two ball game.
Expand that lead.
-Yeah.
-MAN 1: Everybody hits, guys.
-MAN 1: Let's go.
-MAN 2: Let's go.
(players chattering)
MAN 3:
This is it. Now lead it off.
MAN 4:
Oh, yeah.
MAN 5:
Let's go, Bill, start us up.
(old baseball game continues
playing over radio indistinctly)
You think Graham actually
gives a shit about this game?
-Do you?
-Yeah, as much as anybody.
But him? Mm.
Company man.
Derek and I know
company men.
Military's full of 'em.
Pricks.
I--I don't know.
I mean, he does
all the coaching.
The guy works hard
for the cause.
The cause?
You know
about the cause?
Nah, you're too young.
It's all combat.
Life.
This game.
Combat.
Going to the store.
Combat.
Picking up your kids
from school.
Combat.
Going to see
your 90-year-old grandmother
in the hospital dying
of stage four uterine cancer?
That's not combat.
That's love.
Sarge, you dying out here?
You're giving a speech
like you just got shot.
When I go to the doctor,
that's definitely combat.
(laughter)
Alright, Bill.
Get it started now.
MAN 1:
Let's go, Bill!
(player claps)
(Ed groans)
BILL:
Ed, was that ball four?
So you do want
to get hit again, huh?
BILL (laughs):
No.
-(bat clatters)
-BILL: Joe, getting on base
for real this time.
ED:
Fuckin' half wit.
AP SHORTSTOP:
Watch your mouth, Ed.
Kids are around.
I went to one
of my friend Edward's games.
These guys aren't much better
than them.
(church belling tolling)
All right,
this one's the best guy.
Watch.
JOE:
He's the king of the team.
EDDIE:
No. No, I don't think he is.
This is the worst day
of his life.
PLAYER:
Come on, boys, easy out.
OUTSIDER:
Hey, man.
Isn't this field
supposed to be empty today?
How much longer
you guys gonna be?
We're in the fourth inning.
KEVIN:
Sorry, man, this game
was postponed by Hurricane Bob.
Why do they care so much?
Don't they have
more important things going on?
They're just like
plumbers and stuff.
MAN 1:
Hey!
JOHN: Ed, you got it, baby,
you got it, baby.
-MAN 1: Oh!
-(players clamoring)
-MAN 2: There, boys, let's go!
-JOHN: Two down!
I've been watching this
for an hour
and I still
don't understand baseball.
JOHN:
Fuck you in your butt, Troy.
OUTSIDER: So you're telling me
we can't even get a practice in
any time soon?
Go to Dustice Park.
That's 30 minutes away.
Yeah, tell me about it.
-Any plans this fall?
-Yeah, yeah.
Thinking about going
to law school, taking the bar.
-Oh, yeah?
-Yeah.
(ball smacks mitt)
You should talk to my son.
Tell him what a noble profession
that is.
Yeah, I'd love to.
He's fucking with you,
Bill.
He's gonna be gambling
on basketball.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
I don't touch the pros.
The house knows too much.
College hockey.
What about you, Bill?
Ever been to Sin City?
-(bat strikes ball)
-(players clamoring)
MAN:
Send him! Send him!
Wait, hold, hold,
hold, Bill, hold!
Fucking bullshit!
-Bill had that by a mile!
-Should be 5-2 now.
You want to win this game
or what, Graham?
Guys,
I'm the third base coach.
Oh, yeah, you call the shots,
tough guy.
Yeah, that's right. Bill would
have been gunned down.
You got to take him
at his word, fellas.
His word's why we're losing
the whole goddamn field, Bill.
Time!
RICH:
Fucking idiot. Fuck.
He is right.
(sighs)
MAN:
Oh, boy.
I don't know why
they're shitting a brick.
D and Tim had the relay.
Maybe.
But we were lucky there.
Yeah.
How you feeling anyway?
Your arm hurt?
Your back stiff?
Your balls sweaty?
-(chuckles)
-Losing a little zip
on the fastball
the last couple innings.
Between you and me,
I've been better.
Mm.
Hey, uh...
we should put Merritt in.
I'm giving you nine.
All right.
I'm just saying Merritt's there.
(ball smacks glove)
I'm still giving you nine.
He's got more in the tank,
jackoff.
All right.
If you say so.
-You're the boss.
-(sighs)
Hey, um, just don't pitch
to this next guy, huh?
Don't worry,
I know what I'm doing.
(players chattering in distance)
I'm not pitching to him.
LOUIS:
That's not the way it works.
I'm not pitching to him.
Go ahead, man.
Take your base.
JOHN:
Don't look at him. Go to first.
ED:
Go on.
-I don't feel like it.
-GARRETT: Way to go, Derek.
LOUIS:
All right, who's up?
GARRETT:
Coach Graham's up.
(man laughs)
And I'm coaching third.
All right, Bill Belinda.
Let's get you home.
WILTON: All right,
big opportunity here, fellas.
C'mon, Graham, let's see
what you got, buddy.
MAN 1: Wait for yours.
If it's high, let it fly.
If it's low, let it go.
-(ball smacks mitt)
-LOUIS: Strike.
-CATCHER: That's it, baby.
-Come on, Graham.
Can't hit a thing
if you don't take a swing.
WILTON:
Come on, boss. Come on, boss.
-Stay sharp, Bill.
-MAN 1: Give him a ride now.
-LOUIS: Oh-two!
-JOHN: Nice!
MAN 2:
Swing and a miss!
JOHN:
Here we go. One more. One more.
MAN 2:
Felt the breeze from here.
MAN 3:
Dial it up, Graham.
GLEN:
Come on, put some wood on it
if you can find it.
WILTON:
Opportunity, boss.
Use a good eye, Graham.
Show me what you got.
MAN 4:
Let's go, Ed.
-Wild pitch!
-Go, go, go! Go, go!
Hold, hold, Bill, hold.
What the fuck?
What the fuck is that, Graham?
Now you're just trying
to sabotage the whole thing.
Rich, I started this team.
Oh, I started this team.
Oh, yeah? Hey, Adler's!
You guys got a spare jersey
in the dugout?
Yeah, maybe we could trade
this clown
-for Tim's brother or something.
-Time!
Fuck you, Graham!
BILL:
Calm down, Rich.
Shut up, Bill.
GRAHAM:
C'mon, man, we're winning.
-We can blow this open!
-Fuck you, Graham!
BILL:
Come on, man.
LOUIS:
Gentlemen, let's play.
RICH:
Fuck you, Graham.
(laughs)
MAN 2:
You got this, Graham, come on.
Coming to you guys.
(players clamoring)
Yes!
Infield flies only, huh, Ed?
MAN 5:
Way to go, way to go!
LOUIS:
Nice try.
Mr. Santucci,
tell the folks at home.
How did
you do it?
How did you make
the finest defensive play
in the history
of Soldiers Field?
-Well, you know, Chuck...
-(car horn honking in distance)
every great defensive play
starts with shitty pitching
and Ed Mortanian can throw
with the worst of 'em.
Had it been
a routine ground ball,
I might not have had
to bust my knees.
We need those knees.
And we're here...
with Coach Ed Mortanian.
Your pitcher,
Ed Mortanian.
-(man yelling; horn continues)
-What's missing for him today?
-Shut up, Chuck. Hold on.
-AL: Hey, come on already!
You think he's already
looking forward to next season?
You got your niece's--
at your niece's christening!
-We've got to attend, c'mon!
-I'm in the middle of something!
-I'm fuckin' busy!
-It's your niece's christening!
That's now? Today?
Twenty goddamn minutes,
goddamn it!
We already missed lunch
at Margarine's.
Nah, nah.
Can't they push it back?
I mean, really?
They gotta do this now?
-The priest is a busy man!
-(car horn continues honking)
He has a long line of babies.
If we don't do it today,
the baby will be
too fuckin' old!
So what?
The baby don't care!
God cares, you asshole!
What am I gonna wear?
You got a suit for me?
Exactly
what you're wearing now.
You're a fucking bum
anyway.
-BILL: We got Eephus Boy.
-Whatever.
Get your fuckin ass in the car
already, you fucking idiot.
All the time. You pull
the same shit all the time.
You did it with Dad,
you did it with Mom,
you did it with everybody.
You always pull the same shit.
Come on! This is for
your family, you son of a bitch.
-(Ed sighs)
-AL: Come on, be a man!
All right, all right.
Shut your fucking piehole.
AL: Playing a boy's
fuckin' game there.
You got your what--?
Come on. You got your-- Come on.
ED: You got
your fucking way, all right?
AL:
My way? My way?
This is your family,
you son of a bitch!
Ed! Who's in charge?
(Al and Ed continues chattering
in distance)
That's why
I'm never having a niece.
(church bell tolling)
FRANNY:
"You're one strike closer
to the next home run."
The Great Bambino. Heh.
Hey, Gare,
how you doing?
Pretty good.
You know, back in college.
Nice. Tell your brother
I said hi.
(dramatic theme playing)
(players cheering in distance)
(old game radio announcer
speaking indistinctly)
(home base thumps)
JOHN:
All right, keep it goin', kid.
(players chattering
and laughing)
-MAN 1: What a hit.
-MAN 2: All right, all square.
Fellas, since the game's tied,
want you all to know
we're coming up on time here.
-What do we got?
-About 15 minutes.
-Ah, shit.
-What, are you kidding me?
-Can't do 30?
-LOUIS: Ask my wife.
KEVIN: Ah, come on! At least
stay through the stretch.
Fifteen minutes?
Got any flexibility
on that?
It's not my call to make.
(sighs)
All right.
I hit it big in the meat
raffle last night.
I got two pork loins
in the truck
the size
of my fucking arm.
I'm hungry.
I'm listening.
Well, we can make
something happen
if we can make
something happen.
I'll see what I can do.
Convince Paul Bunyan
over there.
HOWIE:
Take care, Franny.
You're leaving?
How could you leave
during a tie?
Oh, I've seen ties.
I--I--I can go to sleep
with a tie.
-Really?
-Yeah.
That's when it gets good.
Kind of like a game reset,
you know?
And all the stuff before
mattered
and sort of didn't matter
at the same time.
Everyone's gotta just put
all that good work behind 'em.
All the good plays
and good runs, just--
Just gotta push on
and play hard. Heh.
I'll still be sleeping.
All right, well,
have a good one, Howie.
Have you ever been
to the Polish American Club?
I haven't, actually.
You could be a Polack.
No.
My uncle was,
but we didn't share blood.
Oh.
Well,
be well.
Yeah.
Have a good one, Howie.
(eerie theme playing)
(chattering)
(players speaking indistinctly)
AP SHORTSTOP:
Let's go, man.
MAN 1:
All right, back up on this guy.
Big hitter.
Look alive, Chuck.
CHUCK:
Ayy-up!
MAN 2: Is this the guy
that throws meatballs?
-LOUIS: Stee-rike three!
-(players clamoring)
MAN 3:
Happy to have that Hamilton.
There's your designated
non-hitter.
-(church bell tolling)
-We need a single.
Not a home run swing.
I'm telling you,
slow it down.
Look how slow
this guy's pitching.
You just gotta frame him up.
Make contact.
-Logan'll drive you in.
-Hey, meat, throw strikes!
You're burning
daylight.
(old baseball game
continues playing over radio)
Throwing the ball
pretty well, Tiger.
Changing speeds.
He's calling a good game.
-Thanks, sir.
-Keep it up, keep it up.
-You play?
-I used to play.
I played about 30 years ago
right here.
I've been coming here
forever.
I don't ever remember
seeing you.
No, you wouldn't have.
You were a puppy
back then.
Poopin' yellow.
I still do.
Well, change your diet.
Eat more ruffage.
Most of the players
I've played with
are dead.
Half of them are
and the other half
wish they were dead.
Because you just don't want
to carry around
an old corpse with you.
You don't want to end up
in a nursing home
and wiping dab snot out
of the corners of your cheeks.
-Do you pitch?
-I was a pitcher.
I had a good sinker,
screwball,
overhand deuce
and some high cheese.
ANNOUNCER (over radio):
...short, went to second
on an error.
He went around later to score.
First, stretch.
(gasps)
-I'm ready to go.
-(bat strikes ball)
-MAN 1: Oh, a can of corn here!
-MAN 2: Shit.
-MAN 3: Fuck you!
-MAN 4: There we go!
MAN 5:
Let's go, today.
All right, gentlemen,
I'm calling it.
-MAN 6: What?
-Come on, Blue!
-MAN 7: Boo!
-You can't call it now.
The whole game
would be fucking pointless.
It was already pointless,
fellas.
As much as I'd like
to horse around
with you boys in the dark,
I don't get overtime pay.
All right, shuttle's leaving.
Wait, I'll give you, uh,
$9 to stay.
Shuttle's leaving, Clark,
with or without you.
CLARK:
Thanks, Glen.
MAN 1:
I say we still play.
MAN 2:
Hell, yeah, brother.
MAN 3:
Start a game, gotta finish it.
GRAHAM:
Yeah, he's right.
I know we all want
to get back at him
for that home run.
And this place
deserves a sendoff.
MAN 4:
Sendoff without an ump?
MAN 3:
I mean, the old guy can ump.
Hey, Franny,
can you ump?
FRANNY:
Not well, but I'll do it.
You got pads?
No need. I'll stay right here.
Well, that's something.
No, Bill, that's stupid.
How's he gonna call balls
and strikes through a fence?
Franny's been paying attention,
but we can help him
make the calls.
-What? Honor system?
-Honor system.
In the event of a dispute,
we'll look to Franny
as the tiebreaker.
Yeah, I'm not buying it.
Making baseball
a democracy?
We're all gonna kill
each other.
Guys, I brought fireworks!
MAN:
Guys...
Take me out to the ballgame
Take me out to the crowd
Buy me some peanuts
And Cracker Jacks
I don't care
If I never get back
For it's root, root, root
-JULIE: For the home team
-(players say their team names)
If they don't win
It's a shame
For it's one, two
Three strikes you're out
At the old ball game
(whispers)
Nice job.
C'mon, let's hear it
for Julie.
Debbie, Julie.
On behalf of Adler's Paint...
Never mind.
Thanks, Bobby.
Short but pointless.
CHUCK:
Ayy-up! Ayy-up!
(somber theme playing)
(small dog barking in distance)
TROY: Graham, I'm boiled
like shoe leather, man.
I gotta come out.
You sure?
You still look fresh.
Let Lee pitch.
I'll get you three outs,
like rolling off a log.
Good to meet you.
You play on a team?
Well, I've been pushing
a lawn mower
for the last three decades,
but I'll get you three outs.
He took down
the Soviet Union, Coach.
Sure you can still throw?
Well, when I was younger,
I didn't throw that hard.
And now I'm older,
I don't throw much harder.
But I got good shit.
I'll get you three outs.
John, is Ed coming back?
Niece's christening.
GRAHAM:
Well, who's in charge now?
-TIM: I am.
-MAN: Tim is.
Up in the air.
All right, uh...
Well, new pitcher.
Hey, thanks for giving me
the opportunity.
It's nice to be back
on this grass field.
It's a shame those pricks
are building a school here.
GARRETT:
Where'd you find those cleats?
MAN 1 (laughs):
Oh, snap.
MAN 2:
Yeah, this should be good.
GARRETT:
Want any warm-up pitches?
LEE: Warmups? I don't need
no stinkin' warmups.
(players speaks indistinctly)
-MAN 3: Look alive.
-GARRETT: His name is Lee.
LEE: You gonna pray
or get in the box?
This guy just crawl
out of the woods?
I think so.
LEE:
Dead bird. Dead bird.
Fetch, fetch.
Fetch, Cujo.
Okay, this is Henderson
the Rainmaker.
Or the Eephus.
-BATTER: Whoa.
-FRANNY: Strike.
-GARRETT: There it is, Lee.
-MAN 1: There we go. Real slow.
LEE: The key to the Eephus is
to never throw three in a row.
Four seamer,
right down Broadway.
FRANNY:
Strike.
WILTON: No offense to Troy,
we might have a real pitcher.
You know this guy
from back in the day, Franny?
LEE: Is that the blind guy
up in the press box again?
-LEE: Sinker low and away.
-Can't say I do.
I've come to a lot of games
over the years.
He could be three or four guys
I remember.
-(ball smacks mitt)
-LEE: Not a bad pitch.
LEE: In the big leagues,
they hit the shit out of that.
-LEE: Knuckleball right here.
-Franny...
...the guys and I
want to say thanks.
For coming out
to all these games.
I know no one's probably
said that to you, but...
thank you.
I don't want the thanks,
but...
it's been a good time.
-LEE: Bring a dog next time!
-Yes, it has.
He takes a stretch, he winds up
over his head, he turns.
-LEE: Oh, what a beauty!
-(players react positively)
GARRETT (laughs):
That was real slow.
That ball sounded inside.
-GARRETT: There it is, Lee.
-LEE: Strikeouts are fascist.
Oh, my God.
Oh, Franny, this place is gross.
-Fran Man.
-What up, Red?
Uh, yeah, Franny,
so whatever Preston said...
like, uh, yeah,
we appreciate it or whatever.
Hitting up Jumpin' Aces after.
Buy you a cold one?
LEE:
I can live with that pitch.
Monkey Boy and Shag
are playing.
-Sliders.
-Shooters.
Sliders
and shooters.
Thanks, gentlemen. Heh.
That stuff's not for me.
What, do you hate combos?
Uh-oh, Bobby's going.
JOHN:
Studs up, Bobby, studs up!
-Got him!
-COOPER: Oh, he's safe.
-COOPER: Big time safe.
-KEVIN: Way safe.
-Out!
-COOPER: Safe?
FRANNY:
Looks like an out to me.
JOHN:
No, Franny, he's in there.
Let's take a vote.
If he's out, say out.
-Out!
-Safe!
All right, Franny,
break the tie.
I already said he's out.
-JOHN: Damn it!
-MAN 1: Boom!
-MAN 2: Good play!
-JOHN: Final word, gentlemen.
Is there anything more beautiful
than the sun setting
on a fat man
stealing second base?
MAN 3:
Okay, we got a hitter.
PRESTON:
Franny,
where are you going after this?
It's high school football
season.
Don't know.
You know any movies out?
-No.
-GRAHAM: Goddamn that's on him.
Well...
I live near Leda Lanes.
Yeah, you can always
go bowling.
That's something.
Always.
(bat strikes ball)
GLEN:
Play at first, Bill!
-GLEN: You're set!
-MAN 1: Hey, way to pick it.
MAN 1:
Hey, hell of a throw.
-LEE: Yeah!
-MAN 2: Whoo!
GLEN:
One, two, three, Lee. Heh.
FRANNY: I think I know
who this fella is.
LEE:
Way to go, boys.
Sun don't shine
on the same dog's ass every day.
(church bell tolling)
FRANNY:
There's that old
Hank Aaron motto:
"Keep swinging, keep swinging."
CHUCK:
Hey, do these work?
Yeah. Nobody's paying
that bill in October.
(children laughing)
Honey. Honey.
BILL:
Yeah. So?
The kids are getting cold,
so we're gonna head home.
We'd love to stay, but...
I'm up next.
Just stay for this, okay?
I'll get a hit for you.
I just wanted to let you know,
man, it's been...
really great having you
catch me all these years.
Of course, dude.
I might never catch again.
-(ball hits cage)
-TIM: Ah, no.
TIM:
Just missed that one.
Don't say that, man.
You need
to get back out there.
Make the next pitcher
feel safe.
Make the world...
a better place.
I guess I do feel
like your protector.
That's nice.
Pitcher's spot's
up next.
I can't hit.
(flatulence)
Where's Lee?
-Lee?
-TROY: Lee?
-GARRETT: Lee?
-TROY: Where's Lee?
(tense theme playing)
GARRETT:
Lee? Lee?
JOHN:
Oh, you son of a bitch!
I got you, John.
-JOHN: Fuck!
-BILL: No!
JOHN:
There it is.
LINDA: Way to go, hon',
you almost had it.
Bye, Dad.
We'll save you a baked potato.
I'll grab dessert.
KEVIN: I just realized
that guy's wife's name
is Linda Belinda.
(dramatic theme playing)
GRAHAM:
Get him next time, kid.
(players chattering in distance)
You know, that might have been
the last time
the kids saw the old man
come to the plate.
They're so young,
they won't even remember this.
They're 10 and 12.
Then they'll probably love
that you struck out.
It's funny.
Not to me.
Hey, boss, how come
you're the only one
that has family
that come here?
-(bat strikes ball)
-WILTON: Yeah!
GLEN: There you go,
baby, there you go.
GARRETT:
Yeah, baby G!
One run wins it.
One run wins it.
GRAHAM:
There it is.
MAN 1: Troy, you're next.
Troy, you're next.
Just like that.
MAN 2:
Wilton, we're gonna need you.
We're gonna need you, Wilton.
Bringing you in, carrot,
Garrett.
-MAN 3: Atta-baby, G.
-GRAHAM: Go, Troy.
C'mon, lollipop.
(sighs)
We're gonna need
that ball, guys.
Nose goes.
I'm getting it.
(church bell tolling)
(church bell continues tolling)
(many dogs barking in distance)
(church bell tolling the hour)
(whispers)
Fuck.
WOMAN (over radio):
Just in time for winter.
All chains come
with a ten-year warranty
and service agreement.
We put 'em on and take 'em off
for you any time.
We even do it for foreign cars.
(dogs barking closer)
(closer dogs stop barking)
You two deadbeats out there?
Don't you fuck with me,
you little weasel dicks.
(helicopter passing overhead)
RICH:
I know where you live!
JOHN (in distance):
Ball four!
You get lost?
What, are you worried
about me?
No, just gotta look
for some other balls.
Troy just hit
three more fouls.
Well, got mine.
Okay, well that will get us
through this at-bat.
But after that, who knows?
SEVERAL PLAYERS:
Back!
(laughs)
Out by a mile!
There we go.
Nice job, Garrett.
Fuck.
Whoo.
You all right, Troy?
-You okay, man?
-MAN: Dirtbag.
Just give me a minute, man.
I just need a quick nap.
Feels like my warm bed, baby.
Think we're
losing light, dude.
C'mon, I gotcha.
-I need a beer.
-(both grunt)
WILTON: Let's go,
let's knock it down, fellas.
MAN 1:
Hey, D, I got a ball.
MAN 2:
Rich, I got one too.
GLEN:
Me too.
-Troy, uh, I need you again.
-Me?
I'm so done, dude.
I'm...
I've been asking
for a ride home for ten...
ten minutes now.
RICH:
Not giving you a ride, Troy.
You'll be back
in two minutes.
-The game is still going.
-I know, I'm so tired.
JOHN: Hey, who's pitching here,
Bulldozer Boy?
GARRETT: I think they're
still figuring that out, sir.
All right, I have
somebody else in mind.
Starter Troy is out.
Who's taking over,
Coach Graham?
Reliever Troy.
What the fuck
are you talking about?
You know, I can't
just put you in center field.
Just become
Reliever Troy
and finish
what Starter Troy started.
Here.
JOHN:
Oh, no. No, come on!
-Graham, there's rules and shit!
-Now you're Reliever Troy.
How do you feel?
GRAHAM:
Glen.
So just as a courtesy,
I thought I'd let you know
we're running low on baseballs.
-And light.
-My guys can deal with that.
We just want
to keep playing.
Well, then you should probably
know we're low too.
You didn't bring
a bucket?
No. That's Ed's job,
and I didn't see him
bring one.
So he's done playing
baseball for good?
MAN (in distance):
Graham, wake up.
Did you bring
a bucket?
No, I didn't either.
Play ball then.
GLEN:
Booyah.
Where the hell is the plate?
I can't even see it.
GARRETT: It's like--
It's like right here.
Like...
Is that a one or a two?
GARRETT:
It's a...two.
(laughs)
Thanks for the help.
Strike?
Strike.
Absolute
fucking garbage.
I tell ya, I am not going
to miss how much this hurts.
You look fantastic
out there.
(dry laugh)
Kid. My knees are on fire.
I could cook a rack of ribs
on these fuckers.
It's worth it, though.
Worth every pin
and needle.
Yeah.
I could play all night.
KEVIN: Yeah, you guys
have fun with that.
Why are you
such a party pisser?
-FRANNY: Ball!
-John, I got a life.
I got work tomorrow.
I shouldn't be here.
No one should.
It's dark
and it's late.
It's the last game, pal.
It's not like this
always happens.
FRANNY:
Strike three.
Well, I've got a son
at home
who thought I'd be there
a fuckin' hour ago.
We have
a serious problem.
No one can see.
Ball.
Look, man.
If you want to finish
this game,
you can't be taking pitches
right now.
Throw me a strike, then.
GARRETT: Troy, could you
throw him a strike, please?
(bat strikes ball)
GRAHAM:
Did anybody see where that went?
GARRETT:
Anyone hear it land?
GARRETT:
We'll call it a balk?
RICH:
It's fuckin' bullshit.
Christ, is there even
a pitcher out there?
Right here.
I can see you.
RICH:
Yeah, yeah, I know.
Just pitch.
GRAHAM:
Come on, Troy.
-(ball smacks mitt)
-RICH (grunts): Fuck.
RICH: Fuck.
What the fuck are we doing?
GARRETT:
What's wrong?
Are you blind?
Nah, I just can't see well.
Get this fucking over with.
-RICH (grunts): Pointless!
-(ball smacks mitt)
GARRETT:
Maybe just...
try to listen for it.
GRAHAM:
Come on, now, Troy.
-JOHN: There we go.
-(several players chatter)
RICH:
Fuck!
TIM:
Rich...
RICH: Look, I'm not trying
to be an asshole or anything.
But what the fuck
are we doing here?
Come on, what's happening?
-GRAHAM: Hey.
-No, this is bullshit.
-WILTON: Tell him, D.
-RICH: What, am I the only one
who has an issue with playing
in the fuckin' dark?
-PRESTON: Relax, all right?
-We keep playing like this,
we're gonna lose 8 to 7
on nothing but wild pitches.
Amen.
We're all looking
really fucking stupid
out here.
Gentlemen, there's ways
to keep playing.
RICH:
Ways to keep playing?
That's real fucking rich
coming from you.
Look, Dilberto's got a point.
All I want to do is go home
and drink a fucking beer.
But we're not done.
Yeah, let's just finish
this thing to say that we did.
-Yes.
-Hey, Glen...
Well, does anyone
have a flashlight?
RICH: Flashlights?
What are you gonna do?
Get 100 people in the outfield
with flashlights?
Well, do we have that many?
(crickets chirping)
(car engines starting)
SPOKESMAN (over radio):
Sunroofs, upholstery,
AM and FM radio.
It's the little things
that matter--
(instrumental music
playing over radio)
(upbeat music
playing over radio)
(radio host speaking
indistinctly over radio)
(dramatic theme playing)
GARRETT:
Well, I was actually kidding.
But I think this will work.
GARRETT:
Troy, does this work for you?
CHUCK:
Troy already throws blindfolded.
But this light might help
Eephus Boy over there.
TROY:
Hey, nothing like a nightcap.
(church bell rings)
FRANNY:
That's Satchel Paige
pitching philosophy:
"Keep the ball away
from the bat." Heh.
(deep exhale)
KEVIN:
Plays to one.
-(ball smacks mitt)
-FRANNY: Strike.
-KEVIN: Here we go. To one.
-MAN 1: Gotta trust it.
-KEVIN: Way to throw it, kid.
-MAN 2: Solid contact here.
MAN 3:
You got it, boss.
(player speaking indistinctly)
MAN 4:
Let's go, man.
We have
any in-between shades?
Yellow ones, maybe?
(bat strikes ball)
MAN 5:
Cut it, cut it, cut it!
-MAN 6: I got it.
-MAN 5: Find it.
MAN 5:
Find it, then cut it.
MAN 5: Come on, boys.
It's right there.
-MAN 7: Three!
-MAN 8: He's taking two!
-CHUCK: Oh, not here.
-Got it, got it, got it.
-MAN 9: Whoo!
-MAN 10: Throw it.
CHUCK:
It's, uh...
It's like
the Black Sea out here.
Round ball,
round bat, hit square.
MAN 1 (in distance):
Move to the right.
(player claps)
-MAN 2: Whoo!
-MAN 3: Whoo!
(car engine idling)
MAN 4:
Here we go, it's a show down.
Stay alive out there.
(suspenseful theme playing)
MAN 5:
He's going!
-MAN 6: Yeah. Go, go, go!
-MAN 7: All right!
MAN 7:
Hustle, hustle, hustle!
MAN 8:
Told ya!
-FRANNY: That's a safe.
-No, it's not.
Franny,
I got the tag in.
-Out!
-RICH: No! What?
(players protesting)
FRANNY: All the arguing
in the world
can't change the decision
of the umpire.
Thought he'd throw
a slow curve.
He heard me go.
I think he changed it.
It was worth the risk.
You're right.
JOHN: Yeah, try and run on me,
you Bacco bitch.
You definitely
had that, man.
(John speaks indistinctly)
I think.
FRANNY:
Ball two.
Can't quit this field, huh?
Field doesn't want
to stop playing.
You hear that, Graham?
Field's talking.
Doesn't wanna leave.
Field's staying.
They're just gonna put a bunch
of bricks on top of it.
C'mon, Logan.
-(bat strikes ball)
-MAN 1: Oh, fuck!
Here we go!
MAN 2: It's in the gap,
it's in the gap.
-I lost it.
-MAN 3: Where is it?
-I lost it.
-CHUCK: Oh, shit.
(players clamoring)
Ah, you got it.
(players yelling positively)
MAN 4:
Find it, find it.
It's right there.
MAN 5:
Get the ball, guys.
We're losing Dilberto.
(players cheering)
Where the hell
is he going?
MAN 5: Dilberto,
don't leave now, man.
Getting more balls,
maybe.
(rock music playing
over car radio)
(lively chattering)
Wasn't worth the risk.
MAN 1: Hey, Cooper,
take Dilberto's place.
MAN 2:
Where is Cooper?
-RICH: Coop? Cooper?
-MAN 3: Come on!
JOHN:
Right field, kid.
-Where were you?
-Ah, hanging out by the creek.
-Fair enough.
-MAN 4: Riverdogs tie the game,
and Dilberto leaves
to play flashlight tag
with his son.
Kinda cold out here, guys.
Warmer in the dugout.
(player yelling indistinctly
in distance)
-(bat strikes ball)
-MAN 1: Up!
MAN 2:
Get there, John.
MAN 3:
Get it!
JOHN:
Yeah!
Nice.
(man slowly whistling
"Take Me Out to the Ball Game")
(whistling continues)
MAN:
Franny, what are you doing?
Playing with squirrels?
Chop chop!
(organ music playing over radio)
NARRATOR (over radio):
This Halloween,
are you finally brave enough
for the Creepy Climb?
Ooh...
Terror awaits
on the Creepy Climb.
Ascend this haunted hill
if you dare.
See horror in a new dimension:
height.
Every 100 feet promises
a new scare.
GARRETT:
C'mon, right to the glove, Troy.
(advertisement
continues indistinctly)
JOHN:
Oof.
-(ball strikes backstop fence)
-GARRETT: Ah!
-(Garrett laughs)
-JOHN: Ugh!
(John laughs)
-JOHN: Damn it.
-GARRETT: Sorry, John.
JOHN:
Ah! There you go.
GRAHAM: Come on, Troy, focus.
Let's go.
MAN 1: There it is,
settle in, settle in.
There's the sign.
There we go, Troy!
(eerie theme playing)
-(bat strikes ball)
-(players clamoring)
GARRETT:
Call it.
KEVIN:
Two, two, two.
-(man speaks indistinctly)
-GRAHAM: C'mon, guys.
GRAHAM:
I'm here. I'm here.
-GARRETT: It's right--
-MAN 1: Get the fucking ball.
-GARRETT: No, no-- He's going.
-MAN 2: It's gone.
-GRAHAM: C'mon, guys, get it in.
-MAN 3: Four!
-MAN 4: Again?
-MAN 5: Yo! Four--
-MAN 6: Fuck!
-RICH: I don't know.
-GARRETT: Does he really not--?
-MAN 7: All right.
RICH:
God!
Yo, wait, hold it, hold it.
No, no, no, wait.
Did it go under the car?
Wait, Derek, did it go
under the car?
Because
we could argue for that.
Troy, we could argue
for interference.
No, I'm done, man.
It's one more out, man.
We need you.
No, it's a no go
for me this time.
I should have left with the umps
a long time ago.
All right, come on.
Switch with Wilton.
Hey, Wilton.
WILTON:
No way, boss. I ain't stupid.
There's no way I'm shortstopping
anyway, buddy.
All right, you know,
switch with Logan.
-Logan.
-LOGAN: Pitch?
Logan.
LOGAN: Hey, Garrett,
grab my other glove?
Come on.
-I'm doing this for the kid.
-GARRETT: Yep.
Okay?
And I--I'm...
I'm doing it
under protest.
Whatever the hell
that means.
LOGAN: Hey, good outing,
good outing.
TROY:
It's all love.
LOGAN: I don't think
you need the shades anymore.
TROY:
Yeah, fuck off.
(sighs)
How's your arm feel?
LOGAN:
Good enough to get to extras.
I don't think
anyone wants to play.
Just one batter at a time,
all right?
What are you focusing on
at community?
-(church bell tolling)
-Staying in the lineup.
No. What are you studying?
(scoffs)
Engineering.
Good to know.
If you need a job,
give me a call.
No fuckin' way
I'm staying for a tenth.
You won't have to.
Just visualize the victory.
Visualize
the victory.
See the ball hitting
that pine tree out there.
And make it a reality.
Mind over matter.
Oh, yeah?
Sometimes when it's cold,
I go out on my deck
and sleep in my chair,
using my mind to keep me warm.
(bat strikes ball)
(player yells indistinctly)
You're up.
Go use your mind.
FRANNY:
Ball one.
Strike zone
doesn't exist anymore.
Just let 'em hit it.
You got a light?
FRANNY:
Ball two.
This is fun.
FRANNY:
Ball three.
-That's a strike.
-My man!
-Where did that miss?
-Above the letters.
His letters are too low.
Bad shirt.
GARRETT:
Take it easy, guys.
(players chattering)
-FRANNY: Ball four.
-MAN: No!
Get me a jacket.
(scoffs)
Where do you want it?
I...I'm trying.
LOGAN:
No, I don't need this.
No wild pitches.
(announcer speaking indistinctly
over radio in distance)
(bat strikes ball)
(players clamoring)
MAN 1:
Fuck!
(dramatic theme playing)
MAN 2:
Next one.
Hey. New guy.
Oh, hey.
What did I miss?
Not much.
Just started.
-Cooper, don't swing.
-COOPER: Okay.
-TIM: This isn't Mom pitching.
-Okay. Okay.
-You don't to swing
at everything.
-Okay. Tim.
GARRETT:
Test him, Logan.
FRANNY:
Ball one.
TIM:
There you go.
(baseball broadcast on radio
in distance continues)
-(ball smacks glove)
-FRANNY: Ball two.
-(ball smacks glove)
-FRANNY: Ball three.
BOBBY: Hitter's count.
If you like it, drive it.
TIM:
No, Bobby.
He's not swinging.
Is it really
gonna end this way?
FRANNY:
Strike two.
Full count.
(dramatic theme playing)
(exhales)
Ball four.
MAN 1:
Hell yeah, Coop!
MAN 2:
First base, Coop.
MAN 3: Final run
at Soldier's Field.
-Way to go, Timbo.
-Thanks, buddy.
-MAN 4: Nice job, Coop.
-MAN 5: Hey!
-MAN 5: Good eye, Coop.
-COOPER: Thanks.
-PRESTON: Good job, Coop.
-MAN 6: Hey, Garrett.
COOPER:
Awesome.
MAN 7:
Sorry, Garrett.
(dramatic theme playing)
MAN 8:
Aces, Aces, Aces.
GRAHAM:
Cooper, you're in that car.
-See you at Aces.
-Yes, sir.
Good night, Garrett.
(players speak indistinctly)
-Nice game.
-Yeah.
Graham.
(all chattering)
(chattering continues)
FRANNY:
Walk off base on balls.
We got a tradition for that.
You know what I'm talking about.
-Hey, are you okay?
-Yep, yep, yep.
Where's Ed's bag?
Uh, it's that one?
This one?
Happy early
Thanksgiving.
-Kevin, turn the car on.
-KEVIN: Yeah.
-You want a beer?
-KEVIN: Yeah.
(aluminum cans rattling)
Hey, um, maybe we do a meet up
over the winter at a bar.
You have
everyone's contacts.
Could be worth reaching out.
Yeah, I'll think on it.
(aluminum cans rattling)
(dramatic theme playing)
(car engine starts)
(sniffs)
-You need any help?
-Nah.
Guess I'm just
kind of winging it now.
(narrator speaking indistinctly
over radio)
(firework pops in distance)
(firework pops in distance)
(firework squeals,
pops in distance)
-(fireworks popping)
-(firework squeals in distance)
(firework pops in distance)
(fireworks popping)
(firework squeals,
pops in distance)
(church bell tolling)
-(fireworks popping)
-(firework squeals in distance)
(firework squeals in distance)
-(firework pops in distance)
-(fireworks popping)
(firework pops in distance)
(firework pops in distance)
(firework squeals,
pops in distance)
(church bell tolling the hour)
FRANNY (echos a la Lou Gehrig):
Today, day, day, day...
I consider myself,
self, self...
the luckiest man, man, man...
on the face
of the earth, earth, earth...
Where do we go, Joe DiMaggio?
(crickets and insects
buzzing and chirping)
TOM WAITS:
One, two, three, four...
(Tom Waits' "Ol' 55" playing)
Well, my time went
So quickly
I went lickety-splitly
Out to my ol' 55
As I pulled away slowly
Feeling so holy
God knows
I was feeling alive
Now, the sun's coming up
I'm riding with Lady Luck
Freeway, cars and trucks
Stars beginning to fade
And I lead the parade
Just a-wishin'
I'd stayed a little longer
Oh, Lord, let me tell ya
That the feeling
Getting stronger
And it's six
In the morning
Gave me no warning
I had to be on my way
Well, there's trucks
All a-passin' me
And the lights
All are flashing
I'm on my way home
From your place
And now the sun's
Coming up
And I'm riding
With Lady Luck
Freeway, cars and trucks
Stars beginning to fade
And I lead the parade
Just a-wishin'
I'd stayed a little longer
Oh Lord, let me tell ya
The feeling
Getting stronger
And my time went
So quickly
I went lickety-splitly
Out to my ol' 55
As I pulled away slowly
Feeling so holy
God knows
I was feeling alive
And now the sun's
Coming up
I'm riding with Lady Luck
Freeway, cars and trucks
Freeway, cars and trucks
Freeway, cars and trucks