Major League: Back to the Minors (1998) Script

Hey! Programs, souvenirs!

Programs, souvenirs!

Okay, I got him.

Come on, come on, come on!

All right. Go on!

Come on, take it out.

I got it.

You want Tobik to finish it off for you, Gus?

No, I'm fine.

Just need to get out of this inning and then get a little breather.


Hey nothing.

That ball is tagged. It's going, going nowhere.

Hold on just a minute.

Let me see that ball.

What? You heard me. Let me see it.

Frozen ball, Gus? Where'd that come from?

You shouldn't have to resort to this. I mean, where's your pride?

You know, damn, I searched high and low, and I...

I'll have to throw you out.

Come on, Mick. I'm five outs from finishing this.

Sorry, but you gotta go.

You are gone. You are out of here!

Mick, come on!

Better not hold on to that too long, Mick.

If it freezes, they'll have to cut your fingers off to get rid of the damn thing.

Someone get me a bucket of water! Get me some water, now!

That arm numb yet, or is it in that tingly burning stage just before everything freezes?

Well, look what the cat drug in.

Don't act like you're not surprised to see me.

Picked up a whiff of your cologne about a half an hour ago.

Would you look at these fancy duds?


Bullshitterer. Hey.

How you doing?

Sorry I missed it.

How'd you throw?

Pretty good.

I moved the ball around a lot.

Even blew a few fastballs by them.

I'm okay to drive.

I know you are but you're too drunk to walk to your car so this taxi driver will give you a lift. How you doing, bud? Come on.

Strong and capable woman. You left out independent.

Uh-oh. You must be smitten.

Went past smitten a long time ago.

First time in my life, the woman I love and the woman I like happen to be the same person. That's a dangerous combo.

And the kicker is she loves me but she's not desperate for me.

Which could only mean you're desperate for her.

You got it.

Yeah, well, six marriages had to teach me something, huh?

You ever think about getting out?

As a matter of fact, this is my last season. I'm hanging it up.

Oh, yeah? What are you gonna do? Yeah.

I don't know. I'm still kicking a few ideas around.

Well, it just so happens that I've got a proposition for you.

I thought you came all this way because you missed the sound of my voice.

Oh, there is that, but... Heh, heh.

Gus, I wanted to ask you, how would you like to manage?


I got a Triple-A team. A heap of talent, not a baseball player.

What I need, what they need, is a genuine baseball man someone who really knows the game.

With all you know about baseball, and their natural ability it'd be a perfect match.

I don't know, Rog.

I mean, uh, I spent the better part of my life kicking around the minor leagues.

Hell, my ass has gone flat from sitting on hard benches and riding bad buses.

I ain't sure in signing up for more of the same.

But this is something that you know. Something you could be good at.

Who says I can't be good at something other than baseball?

No one.

Look, thanks.

Anyway, I-I--

Come the end of the season, I'm quitting. Cold turkey.

Hey, I know how to take no for an answer but maybe you could do me one little favor.

If I can.

I'd like you to take a look at Mr. Downtown Anderson.

He is a pure hitter. Uh-huh.

You got the day off tomorrow, right?

The three of us, why don't we go down, and watch the kid play?

I'm in.

So it's either wrestle me for the ball or let me stay in.

So he let you stay in? Yeah.

Two dogs and two cokes.

Oh, just ketchup and mustard on mine. Thanks.

Do my eyes deceive me?

Is that who I think it is?

Slick guy, overdressed, helmet hair, shit-eating grin?

Here you go, sir.

Thank you.

You must have eyes in the back of your head.

Leonard Huff. Manager slash bullshit artist extraordinaire.

I know a broken down old ballplayer when I see one.

No offense, of course. Hey, Huff.


Whoa, ho-ho.

And who is this lovely little lady?

I'm Maggie Reynolds.

Maggie. Okay, that's four bucks.

Thanks. I'll get those.

I got it. It's all right. No.

Save your money.

I got it right here. Here we go.

Yes, sir. Out of 10.

Oh, the change is yours, my friend.

Whoa. Thank you, sir.

So, Maggie, Maggie, are you a baseball fan?

As a matter of fact, I am.

Well, I manage a team.

Minnesota Twins.

Maybe you've heard of them.

The Minnesota Twins.

Maybe I've heard of them, you asshole.

Coming down!

Yep. First class all the way.

That's how we do it on the big team.

If he says big team one more time, I'll pinch his neck until his head pops off.

The kid I'm talking about. - Coming to the plate, number one, Billy "Downtown" Anderson. Number one in your heart, number one in the program. Anderson. Play ball!


You like this kid, huh?

Yeah. Yeah!


Super. It is just super.

I was just telling Mr. Downtown here he's gonna be with the big team soon.

No question about it.

The sooner the better as far as I'm concerned.

What do you think, Gus? I think he's got a real nice bat.

Well, they say that I've got a pure swing, that I'm a natural.


Soon as you get over that lack of confidence, the sky's the limit.

Good game. Get in the shower.

I don't want my player catching a cold. Yes, sir.

Wait a sec.

Gus Cantrell.

Six-one, 185 pounds. Throws right, bats right.


Yeah, I had triples of your rookie card when I was in grade school.

You still got them?

I traded them all for one player to be named at a later date.

I'm kidding. Ha, ha. See you.

Smart ass.

Well, I gotta roll.

I gotta get back-- To the big team, huh?



Nice meeting you. Mm.

You ever get tired of the minor leagues, give me a call.

Just kidding.

No, seriously. Kidding!


All right.

Let's go.

To the airport, my friend.

Oh, hey, listen, keep me posted on that kid, will you?

Let's go. Airport! Big tip for you.

Like a vulture circling fresh meat.

Yep! Well, he wants Downtown.

He's not gonna wait.

Trust me. He'll wanna bring him up before he's ready.

You see, that's what I've been saying. You know how to bring a player along.

A need a manager with that kind of touch, that kind of instinct.

I want you to take this kid to Triple-A.

I want you to teach him. It sounds like a lot of work.

Look, try it for a couple of weeks.

You don't like it, no harm, no foul. You quit.

I need to think about it.

Gus, I need a coach.

Let you know in the morning?

You're on.

What if I hate it? You quit.

He even gave you an out.

Are you scared?



You can't let fear of the unknown keep you from moving off the dime.

No, really. I mean, what if--?

What if Christopher Columbus had let fear get in the way?

I'd be playing cricket?

You know what I'm saying.

You really think I could manage a baseball team?

I know you can.

And what about us?

Us will be here.

Us isn't gonna go anywhere.

You must be Gus Cantrell.

What gave me away?

Frank Morgan. Everybody calls me Pops. I'll grab these.

Thanks. Come on. Jump in.

This is Mr. Buzz.

How you doing? Nice to meet you.

We're an hour from game time, so I brought your uniform.

Okay. We'll move Mr. Buzz's head up here.

Excuse me. Watch your...

You must be pretty excited, huh?

Oh, yeah.

This is the clubhouse.

In some parts of the world, this is called a basement.

The good news is it's cool in August. Other times, it can be a little musty.

Dank? That too, but cool.

Here's your office.

Another prayer unanswered.

Lance Pere. This is Gus Cantrell, our new skipper.

Welcome to our unique little troop.


You aren't stuck or anything, are you?

No. It's yoga.

A limber mind leads to a limber spine, which leads to a long life.

As we go, so goes the world, for we are the world, the world is us.

I'll have to jot that down.

You better unwind and get dressed, unless you're planning on playing naked.

Oh. All right, Pops.

Came to baseball by way of the New York City Ballet.

Ballet? Went to an open tryout.

He's such a natural athlete, they signed him.

He used to be a ballerina?

I don't think guys are ballerinas.

Balladeer? Don't balladeers sing?

That's a troubadour.

All right, that's it! That's it!

Go! All right.

That was me. I was out of position.

Hog Ellis, this is our new skipper, Gus Cantrell.


What's up?

Nice to meet you.

Hog, show the skipper your fastball.

You got some velocity there.


You can bet on the hummer, baby.

It's all good.

Well, don't let me interrupt.

It's cool.

"Cool" is the only thing he said I understood.

Hog ain't much on communication.

Remind me not to sit next to him on road trips.

Gus Cantrell.

Remember me? Rube Baker.

What are you doing here? I thought you were with San Diego.

I was with San Diego.

Old control problem came creeping back to haunt me.

Trouble making the throw to second? Yeah. Second.

And first.

Third, a little.

And I still have trouble getting it back to the pitcher.

Well, come on. I don't believe that.

Just take a deep breath, rear back, and let it rip.


Mom, they did it again!

See what I mean? I just...

Well, you're a little bit off the mark, but don't worry.

We'll get you straightened out. Okay. You want me to go get that?

Don't worry about it. Keep warming them up.

Good seeing you, Rube. It was good seeing you, Gus.

You got any more balls?

Yes, sir, I remember Gus Cantrell from the old California Double-A league.

That was before Diet Coke became my beverage of choice.

Gus was a fair pitcher, but he'll have to be more than fair to turn this bunch into anything that resembles a baseball team.

Oh, yeah. They suck.


Carlton Windgate, pitcher. Everyone, calls me Doc.

Gus Cantrell, manager. Everybody calls me Gus.

Oh, I'm delighted to make your acquaintance.



So you have a question regarding the scorecard or?

As a matter of fact, there's seems to be a mistake.

You got Juan Lopez at second and Juan Lopez at short.

That's no mistake. Juan!

Oh, shit. Hello, coach.

Buenos días.

Brothers? Twins.

With the same name? Confounding, is it not?

Confounding seems to be the word of the day.

Listen, from now on, you're gonna be Juan 1.

Si. Okay. You're gonna be Juan 2.

Sounds good, coach. Okay.

Excuse me, but by numbering them you risk stifling their identities and squelching their self-esteem.

I don't wanna be rude here, Doc, but how would you like to be Juan 3?

Batter up!

Watch out!

Get your glasses, catcher! All right, Rube. Good job, Rube.

So a routine throw becomes a 2-base throwing error.

Mr. Buzz almost got nailed by that missile.

And we all might be better off had he got nailed.

All right, Lance! Shake it off, buddy!

Shake it off. Get the next one, bud.

Lance the Dance had a slippery one that time.

They don't call him Old Stone Hands for nothing.

I've seen better hands on a clock. Heh, heh.

Juan 1 has the ball, still time to make the throw.

No, Juan 2 has the ball! Hey, wait a second!

A brawl! What are you doing?

Oh, here we go again.

Come on, cut it out, you guys!

The brothers Lopez are going at it. Juan 2 looks hurt.

No! Here he comes fighting back! He connects with a right!

What a shot! Stop it! Stop it!

You can't play ball! I'll kill you!

You're ugly! It's an error.

You! You! Come on, cut it out.

You're both out of here!

So all Juan Lopez is concerned get the heave-ho and right about now, Gus Cantrell has gotta be wondering why he ever took this job.

You know, fans, it's games like this that used to get me overmedicated.

Keep hitting them up the middle, all right? They'll catch on.

He got a bad jump on that one.

Not only that, he ran too long in the same spot.

Huh. Couldn't get a reading.

Got that from the Highway Department. It doesn't pick up under 55.

Under 55? How was that, coach?

It was good, Doc. Excellent.

You wanna see my change-up?

No, no. I'm good.

Super. We'll stay with the heater. That-a-baby.

Lance Romance. Coach? Let me see your mitt.

Try this for a while.

Hey, I can't field with this.

I hate to tell you, you ain't hot with a glove either.

Yeah-- I want you to get used to feeling the ball.

Loosen up those hands a little bit.

Okay, coach.

Go ahead, open it up.

It's a first baseman's mitt.

That's what the guy at the sporting goods store said it was.

I'm no first baseman. I'm an outfielder. Been an outfielder all my life.

I know you're an outfielder, Pops.

It might be better for the team if we-- Hold on now.

I've been around a long time.

Don't give me the-best for-the-team speech. I'll take it straight.

You're too old, you're too fat, and you're too slow.

Straight enough?

Yeah. That'll do it.

But I like your bat.

And I need a leader on the field, I think you're my man.

So... what do you say? You wanna give first base a shot?

Sure. I'm-- If you think that's best for the team.

Thanks, Pops.


Okay, so pure hitter now, what's that mean?

See, I got these naturally quick hands, you know?

Yeah, I got a pretty good eye too.

No, no, no.


I told you. We got ranch, Italian, chunky blue cheese, which is 50 cents extra. Okay.

Do you have any balsamic vinegar?

I got ranch, Italian, chunky blue cheese. Okay.

You know what? Forget the salad.

Bring me a gun, and I'll just shoot myself, okay?

Pops, I was wondering, you?

You ever make it to the show?

Came close once. Yeah?

With the Red Sox organization.

It was in October. A player got injured. I got the call.

And I was on the plane flying into Boston when a freak snowstorm hit.

We couldn't land.

Two days later, weather's fine, so is the player.

No way. That was it?

Twenty years, professional baseball, I circled the show.

Couldn't land.

Windgate, you'd call a finesse pitcher.

Moves the ball up and down, in and out.

Relies on control and savvy.

They time this kid's fastball with an hourglass.


Sacrifice him over.

Sacrifice? Bunt him over into scoring position.

You're kidding me.

No, I'm not kidding. Lay one down.

Hit one, Downtown!



Anderson drives one to left and deep. Hey, get up, get out of here, gone!

For Anderson and the Buzz lead this game 3 to 2.

Good job, buddy.

D.T.! D.T.!



We got it, baby!

That was an extreme shot. Food.

Let's-- Anderson. I want some food, baby.

Roast beef sandwich. I want cheese.

Bologna, some turkey, some potato salad, a pickle.

Anderson. Anderson.

I need to see you.

Someone's in trouble. Doesn't look good.

If I'm not back in five minutes-- Put the sandwich to go.

All right, you guys. Just make him his sandwich.

Yeah. Hi.

Pull up a chair.

See, this ain't the Downtown show, so when I ask you to lay one down, you lay one down.

But I won the game.

Well, that's not the point.

We're a team here.

We do what's best for the team.

And I make that decision.

This isn't about one guy doing what he wants to do.

Even if that one guy wins a ball game? Even if that one guy wins a ball game.


I'm benching you for the next three games.

You're serious? Yeah.

I'm on a roll. Had five hits in my 12 at-bats, and you'll bench me?

Three games, you sit.

Is that all? Yeah, that's it.

Skipper, can I talk to you for a second? Sure. What's up, Doc?

I've been working with Rube, trying to help him to open up.

Open up? We were breaking down some walls and I believe that Rube's throwing problem goes back to an abrasive little league coach.

Rube can't throw worth a shit because of some jerk-off little league coach?

In layman's terms, yes.

And I wanna ask you if you could just be gentle with him.

See, Rube's psyche is far more delicate than his rugged facade would indicate.

You want me to give him my gentle speech?

If you would be so kind.

And, skipper, I wanna thank you for making yourself accessible to such an open dialogue.

You bet.

It's strong for your legs. It'll be good for first base.

Balance yourself, Pops. Okay.

Okay, now we're gonna do jeté. We're gonna leap like a gazelle.

Follow me, baby. Whoo. Gazelle. Okay.

Leap! Leap!

Let the ball get further across the plate, right?

Further in on you, and then hit the inside half of it right into right field.

You can't help but hit it that way.

Why do I wanna hit it into right field?

I'm a pull hitter. I know you are.

It won't be long until every pitcher knows it too. Just try it.

All right, try again.

This time, act like you give a shit.

Hey, Rube. Hey, skip.

I've been wondering, you got any hidden skills?

Hidden skills?

If my car wasn't running right, could you take the carburetor apart and fix it?

No. No, I don't know nothing about carburetors.

How about if I bought you some lumber, could you make me a coffee table?

Nope. Don't believe I could.

So your skills lend themselves primarily to baseball, we could say that?

Yeah, we could say that.

If another routine throw lands 15 rows in the grandstands, I'm sending your ass home.

So you better make your throws.

Or I suggest you invest in some how-to books and find a fallback profession, understood?

Yeah. Yes, sir.

I'm gonna need this.

I thought you were gonna give him the gentle speech.

That was it.

God, if you can hear me, please... send me one real baseball player.

That's all I ask.

And if you can't grant me that, then, well, you might as well just strike me dead right here and now.





No, but you're getting warm.


Hello, Gus.

Oh, Jesus Christ. Be careful, now.

You scared me to death.

Do you mean when you realized God is black?


I thought she was white.

I must've been out a long time if it's Halloween already.

What's your point?

Pedro Cerrano, the original voodoo man from Mars, dropped out of baseball to find whatever the hell it was he lost.

Maybe his mind.

Anyway, he's back with a new piece of lumber.

Let's see if he remembers how to swing it.

Hey, how about that?

Cerrano must have bumped into the god of all line drives.

He hit a bullet down the left field line.

Two runs score, and the Buzz put one in the win column.

Yeah! - They're on a roll now, baby.

Give me some love.


The Lopez brothers pull off a double play, 4 to 6 to 3.

Hey, and not a punch was thrown, not a drop of blood spilled.

All right, Pops, nice stretch.

All right. Nothing like a little brotherly love.



So the Buzz win their third in a row.

Oh, my.

Cerrano? Yo.


Si, Gus, what?

Is that who I think it is?


Did your part to beautify America.

I see you've got it made in the shade, man.

Peace of brain?

Peace of mind.

Basically, yeah.

Uh, what does your, uh, inner voice tell you?

Ahh. Sounds like Taka needs a vacation.

I got just the thing.

Come on. Watch your step.

Go, Taka. Come on, you can do it.

Taka Tanaka, like Cerrano, left baseball for a while.

Here's the windup and the pitch to Tanaka.

He swings and lines a single to right field.

Tanaka hit that one right on the screw.

Holy crapola.

The Buzz just pulled off a double steal.

Either someone got their signals crossed or this is starting to look like a baseball team.


What is that? What's he doing?

Bravo. I think that's a curtsy?

Lance Pere is curtsying to the crowd.

Heh. He's blowing kisses and curtsying.

This must go back to his days as a balladeer.

Oh, he was a singer?

Dancer. Oh.

All right, Lance. Proud of you! Yeah.

Now batting, Carlos Liston.

Baltimore Orioles, eight, Minnesota Twins, nothing.

Coach, you're doing a fine job, a real fine job.

Get your heads in the game, okay?

Put the magazines away.

Put the phones away. Bye, mom.

Pick it up. Get a hold of one.

Eighteen million over three seasons and he doesn't even wave the bat at the ball.

What? Thought you'd like to know.

The Buzz won again. That puts them in second place.

Really? Maybe I'll take a trip there, watch somebody who's interested in playing baseball. Next game is not until Thursday.

They've got two days off.

Hey, Gus. I knew you could turn that bunch into a ball team.

The first couple of weeks were rough, but we're starting to come together.

You've got days off. Why don't you hop on a plane and let me wine and dine you Minnesota style?

I can't.

I promised Maggie I'd spend the days off up there with her.

All expenses paid, first-class trip to Minneapolis.

In fact, my assistant is calling the hotel as we speak booking the presidential suite. I don't know, Rog.

By the time we get up there, we got to come back.

I'll send my jet for you. Very sexy. Nice vacation for you and Maggie.



Okay, you're on.


So, what's the deal with Carlos?

Well, Carlos is in a love fest with Carlos.

Oh, what about the rest of your team?

One of them wants to be traded so he can get a more press.

My center fielder is threatening to quit because he wants to be a male model.

My shortstop and second baseman aren't speaking because one of them's got a bigger contract.

They haven't turned a double play in over a month.

So out of your 25 players baseball is a primary concern for how many?





Oh, God, I love this team.

What? I like it.

I'll tell you this. If I had a good short reliever I could turn this team around.

In his wildest dreams. What's that?

Nothing. No, no.

Come on, go ahead. Gus.

I'm just saying that a short reliever is not gonna solve your problems.

Why's that? You got no unity.

Every man for himself. Nobody's playing for the team.

Right. A few bad eggs who are spoiling it for everyone else.

Well, you see, when you have major talent you get major personalities.

Maybe you got too much talent and not enough team.

See, this game is about nine guys working as one.

They don't have to be the best guys who ever lived.

They just gotta work together.

Oh, that's sweet.

That really is. That's-- That's so sweet.

Nine guys working together as one. Come on, everyone.


Rah-rah-rah! I love that. I do. I love that, but... you're just gonna have to trust me on this.

You don't know what you're talking about. Is that so?

This might be a good time to get the check.

Yeah, no, that most definitely is so. See, let me explain, okay?

There are two kinds of baseball, right?

There's big league and then there's little league.

And you, my friend, you are in the latter.

That smells a little bit like a challenge.

Yeah, well, if you're foolhardy enough to take it as one, yeah, it is.

Any hour, any day, any week, my guys will be on the field ready to go.


Wait a second. Say what?

You would actually step onto the same field as my Twins?

Is there an echo? Let me tell you something.

Don't poke me. If you had the first idea--

I said don't poke me.

In fact, if you had any idea of what-- Ow! Ow!

I told you not to poke me, you loudmouth moron.

You are breaking my finger.

Son of a bitch.


Let go of my finger, you putz. Gus.

Okay-- Stop.

Watch my hair. Goddamn it.

One minute, you're telling me about the improved, responsible Gus Cantrell.

The next thing I know, you're rolling across a barroom floor punching, kicking, and biting. I didn't bite him.

Besides, it wasn't my fault.

It wasn't your fault? No. Huff asked me to hit him.

Funny. I don't remember hearing him request a punch in the nose.

It's, like, a secret guy language.

When somebody pokes you with their finger more than once they're saying, "Come on and hit me."

A secret guy language.

I mean, I knew about the handshake and the decoder ring, but the language thing is new to me.


Yeah, he's right here.

It's Roger.

Listen, Rog, I'm really sorry.

Right now?



On my way.

Good morning, Mr. Cantrell. Follow me, please.

No, that sounds great. I think that'll work out great.


Behind you all the way, sir.

Thank you. I'll tell him you said that.

Oh, my God.

Okay, gotta go. Talk to you. Bye-bye.

Are you out of your mind?

You're the fifth person to ask me that.

We can't play the Twins. We're a minor league club.

You said nine players together. I know what I said.

Don't throw it back at me. You don't believe it?

Well, of course I believe it. It's...

Coffee, sir? Yeah.

I just wanted to say that on behalf of the entire restaurant staff, go Buzz.

Kick ass.


By the way, that was Huff on the phone just now.

He thinks you're gonna back out. He said that?

Blowing smoke up your butt. Those were his words.

Gutless. I think he said gutless.

He-- I forgot how he used it.

Big Twins vs. The Little Twins.

Sounds like a good way to put some butts in the seats, huh?

Do you really think selling tickets is my sole motivation?

Okay, maybe it is, but nevertheless, this is a great opportunity for your boys to see the show up close.

Gus, come on. It's just-- It's dicey.

Why don't you ask your team what they wanna do?

Huff's finger broken?


Give me 24 hours. Let me talk to my team.

You're the man.

Gotta go.

Hello? Yeah, it's for real.

It's been a while.

One thing never changes.

What's that?



What a decade to quit drinking.

Like I said, charges were dropped.

What about your alleged, quote, "Carlos Liston is so big he's becoming a religion"?

I said it. You got a problem with it? What exactly does it mean?

It means that people think of Carlos Liston.

Carlos is on the minds of people.

They pay him respect, they know him to be a superior man.

Does anyone besides Carlos Liston worship at the shrine of Carlos Liston?

Or is it a one-man congregation?

Thou shall not make fun of Carlos... or thou will get thou's ass whipped. Oh, my goodness.

This is unbelievable. That's major, man.

We're gonna knock them down.

You'll be like a star.

Carlos Liston, resident madman and cleanup hitter.

I have to pitch to him? Yeah.

Yeah, just remember one thing. Carlos is a little bit like a mad dog.

Mad dog?

He smells fear, he goes into attack mode. So no matter what you do--

Don't let him know you're scared. Yeah.

I gotta use the bathroom. Use the mound. Stake out your territory.



This is not a should-win or want-to-win situation.

This is every 8-year-old's dream.

Playing in a big league game in a big league park.

This is a must-win situation.

Play as well as you can.

I want you... to humiliate, brutalize.

Don't force.

Don't push, huh?

Beat them into submission.

Let's stay loose.

Let's have some fun.

Come on, guys. What do you say?

Strike three.

He struck him out swinging and the Hogster is bringing the heat, throwing gas, tossing aspirins, blowing smoke, zinging BBs, firing missiles, zipping darts, threading the needle.

Let's see if my colleague in the booth here has anything to add.

Nope, guess not.

Throw. Make your throw.

He got it.

Oh, my Lord.

Taka slides safely into first base.

Beautiful and daring. The only words to describe that play.

Wouldn't you say beautiful and daring?

Well, my colleague, a little bashful, concurs.

And this Buzz team has come to play ball.

There's no bout-a-doubt it. Ha, ha.

Got it, baby.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

What the hell?

Keep it up. Keep it up.

Nice, nice, nice. Love to your mother.

Hey, hey, Gussy.

Who the man now? Who the man?

Adams broke up the double play.

Could have been called for unnecessary roughness.

And that brings Carlos Liston to the plate.

Time out.


He's been crowding the plate, forcing you to throw into his power.

You better give him a little chin music.

You want me to throw at Carlos Liston?

He'll hate you tonight, but he'll respect you in the morning.

What do I do if he comes out here after me?


Climbing the center field wall wouldn't be a bad idea.

Just calming the kid down.

Probably telling him to keep the ball down and away.

Liston's getting up. He doesn't appear to be hurt.

He doesn't appear to be happy.

Right now would be a good time to get Hog measured for a casket.

What's up?

Now, I know you ain't throwing at Carlos Liston because anyone dumb enough to throw at him wouldn't be smart enough to find their way to the park.

And you're here, so you ain't that dumb.

I think there was moisture on the ball, and it slipped out of my hand. Moisture?

Dew. It's a little dew.

Yeah, well, you get that close to Mr. Liston again, dew or no dew, and I'll come back and beat you into the ground with that bat.

You got that?

Yes, sir. Yeah, I got it.

It's no problem.

A routine fly ball hit to left field.

The wind's got this baby, taking it back toward the wall.

The wind's gonna carry this one over the fence for a home run.

I might point out that there is no wind.

We're in a dome.

An enclosed environment.

There's no rain either, in case you were wondering.

Oh, well, excuse me for having an opinion, pal.

Hey, what's that over there? Where?

Hey! Look out.

Hey, you did that on purpose. Look at that.

Oh, my notes.

My scorecard. It was an accident.

I'm-- My pants.

Here-- Here-- Here's a 20. Get yourself another suit.

Oh, wow.

Come on, Billy. Take it out, D.T.

Some people say Downtown is a big league hitter.

Yeah, he's one of the people spreading that rumor.

I guess now is the moment of truth.

Here's the windup and the pitch to Downtown.

He swings and drives one to left.

This ball is really hit back toward the wall.

Could get out of here, gone for Downtown.

And the Buzz have tied it at 3 all.

Listen to this crowd.

They love this team.

So much for beating them into submission.

Shut up!

Get the trainer.

Better bring a bag of ice.

Come on, guys. Play a little ball here now. Ah!

Throw by Tanaka heading towards third. He threw a bullet.

There's gonna be a play and they've got him! He's out.

What a throw by Tanaka.

Wasn't that a beaut? You're a beaut.

You're finally coming around.


Adams swats that one for a single to left field.

Well, slam or swat, the Twins' hitters have timed this kid's fastball.

Hog will have to go to his other pitches.

He doesn't have other pitches. Does too.

Does not. Does too.

Does not. Does too.

Doesn't. Does too.

Does not. Hey, somebody needs a nap.

He's gonna be sitting on the fastball.

I can't let that happen to Hog.

Time, ump. Time!

You okay? Yeah.

Good job, Hog.

There's nothing to be ashamed of. We just gotta find you another pitch.

Something to go along with that fastball.

There you go.

Doc? Yep.

Coach, he's got no smoke.

They've been looking at heat all day.

Give them a little change of pace.

Coming to the mound for the Buzz will be number 35, Doc Windgate.


Well, we got one out left, Doc, but it's a tough one.

You, uh, want me to go with the off-speed stuff?

You-- You got anything else?


Let's go with the off-speed stuff.

Let's get this one out.

Yeah, baby! That-a-baby, Doc. That-a-baby, Doc.

Come on, Buzz, go!

Yeah, Buzz!

Liston swung just a little early... by about four and a half minutes.

Damn junk baller.

Carlos hasn't seen anything this slow since high school.

Yeah! Come on. Come on, Carlos!

That-a-guy, Doc. That-a-guy.

Strike two on Liston.

He's swinging at pitches that leave Doc's hand on Tuesday.

The trouble is, they don't arrive till Wednesday.


Tell that son of a bitch to throw me his fastball.

That was his fastball.

We're one strike away from extra innings.

If they go up to bat again...

We could lose this damn thing.

Get this guy. All right.

Let's go, baby. One more time. One more time.

I'm gonna kill them.

You can't do that. Oh, look, numb nuts.

This is my ballpark, all right? I can do anything that I want to.

You're the manager. You're right about that.

You're right about that.

Do it! That's right, I said, kill them.

Here's the pitch.

Oh, isn't that a shame?


Power outage, my large white buttocks.

Well, that's what he said.

Did you know that Huff has born-to-lie tattooed on his forearm?

Is that true?

He's on the Twins, Carlos Liston.

Gigantic. You wouldn't believe it if you saw him.

He said, "I'll beat you into the ground with this bat."

What did you say?

I said, you better chase it on back to the plate where you belong before I rip your face off and shove it in your ass. Rear.

Your rear.

No way. Yeah.

What did he do?

He, uh, walked his self on back to the plate.


Tell you what, Rube.

Played a major league team in a major league stadium.

Made the whole 20 years worthwhile.

It's a beautiful thing. Oh, yeah.

"They're calling it a tie, but the Twins were outplayed by a younger, gutsy Buzz team.

Leonard Huff was outcoached by ex-player, rookie manager Gus Cantrell. Mm-hm.

However, a generator snafu allowed the Twins to limp home with their dignity just barely intact." Hmm.

Congratulations. Thank you.

People are very impressed. It's made me wondering if I didn't have a couple of people in Triple-A who were ready to come up to the bigs and vice versa.

It did? It made you wonder?

Yeah, it did.

Apparently, I'm not the only one who's wondering.

I got a call this morning.


Yeah. Huff, he, uh...

He wants Downtown.

Roger, Downtown's not ready. Huff says he is.

Huff doesn't know his butt from a manhole cover.

Gus, listen. No, you listen.

Take Downtown up early, you may have to send him back.

That could hurt the kid.

Gus-- He's got a big career ahead of him, but you've got to bring him along. He's just starting to listen.

Gus, Gus! You take him away from me now--

Huff is the Twins' manager.

If he wants to bring a ballplayer to the show, then I'm sorry.

He's made it very clear.

He wants Downtown.

Have fun, huh? Stay in touch, brother.

Take care, man. You guys do too.

Hey, good luck, bud.

Good game. Yeah!

Well, going to the show.

Yeah, I'm going to the show.

Could I make sort of an off-the-wall suggestion?


Tell Huff you want four more weeks with me before you go up.

Convince him you need a little more time.

What the hell would I want to do that for?

Because you're not ready yet, kid.

Bullshit. Huff says I am. Huff doesn't know, okay?

He's not about turning you into a player.

He's trying to use a publicity stunt to cover up a lousy season.

You know, I knew this. I knew this would happen.

You'd come in and try to rain on my parade.

I'm not trying to rain-- You are.

You've been on me since the beginning.

I hit a home run and you benched me.

You told me not to pull when I'm a natural pull hitter.

I'm trying to help. Don't tell me you are. You're not.

You never were.

You want me to tell you why?

Because you're jealous.

You're jealous I got more talent on my worst day than you've had in your whole goddamn career.

What, it's true, isn't it? Isn't it?

Isn't it? You've never had half the talent that I do.

That's true.

God, I should have known you couldn't just shake my hand and say good luck.

But I don't give a shit because I just passed you up.

I don't need you, Gus Cantrell. I'm moving on to bigger and better things.


Thanks for nothing.

Strike two!

Piece of cake. Piece of cake.

So the Buzz lose another close one.

They've dropped seven of the last eight, making this a rough trip.


Some of you guys might want to, uh, check your contracts.

You set there, Rube?

Oh. Yeah, sorry. A little more mayo there.


Seems you signed on to play an entire season, but it looks like you quit playing about two-thirds of the way through and I'd like for someone to tell me what the hell is going on.


Yeah, Hog?

Well, you see, um, ahem...

no one thinks that we can win without Downtown.

I think.

Look, this game is not about one home-run hitter.

Don't get me wrong. I miss Downtown as much as any one of you, but baseball is not about one player.

It's about a team, an entire team, playing together.

That's right. Look at me like I'm a damn corndog old man who doesn't know what the hell I'm talking about.

You know, I don't, uh, know about the rest of you, but I remember not too long ago, we were the joke of the league.

Now we've won a few games.

We even went dead even with the big team, and this man made the difference.

I think we might wanna listen to what he has to say.

Look, guys, I'm just asking you to do one thing.

Start thinking about how you can help the guy sitting next to you.

Maybe you know something he doesn't know.

Maybe you got some information you can pass along.

We're traveling tonight. We got the Crawdads tomorrow.

By the time we hit the field, I expect everybody's mind to be on teamwork and the business of baseball.


It's cool.

All right.

Let's pack it up and get out of here.

All right, guys. See you all tomorrow.

It's not complicated.

A curveball is simply the application of basic physics.

Resistance plus velocity equals...?

You okay? Yeah.

Uh, motion. Bingo.

Now, by controlling the resistance, i.e. the rotation, you can determine direction of motion.

And the greater the velocity, the less opportunity for--


Thus, a smaller degree of motion.


Lesser velocity.

Create more resistance.

Allow for greater movement.

We love you, Hog!

Strike three, you're out! He struck him out.

Hog Ellis has just thrown the first curveball of his young life.

And the boy now has not one but two pitches.

All right. Nice deuce there, Hog.

I just decreased velocity, reversed the ball's natural rotation.

Whatever you say, Hog. Just keep throwing them.

Way to go, Hogster.

And the count is two and two.

Norman looks in, gets the signal.

Here's the pitch. Swing and a miss!

And strike three. Anderson goes down swinging.

And is now three-for-15 since joining the Twins.

Downtown, huh?

More like down and out, if you ask me.

Voodoo! Voodoo! Voodoo!

As it's been explained to me, the hood helps Cerrano focus.

All I know is, it looks dumb and he has to be led up to home plate.

But I've long given up trying to understand this team.

Cerrano lines a bullet to left center.

Romance is rounding third.

Lance The Dance scores on what appears to be a double salchow and a triple axel thrown in too.

What a play! The Buzz are back on track.

They've won seven of their last 10.

Great job! Come on, baby!

Now you're having fun, man.

You know it!

All right.



I couldn't cut the mustard.


You can say, "I told you so," if you want.

No point in that.

Look, about all that shit I said to you, I'm sorry.

Well, it's water over the bridge or under the dam, or wherever the hell the water goes.

Sit down.

Yes, sir.

Any idea what happened?

It was, uh...

I mean, a number of things, really, but they started throwing me outside like you said they would.

You wanna know the good news?

Yeah. Yeah, I'd like to hear some good news.

This is nothing we can't fix.

Well, how do we do that?

Sweat, sweat and more sweat.

Straight up with your hands, straight back with your chests.

Way back to the sky.

Way beyond your hands, and then, back into first position.



Wow. That's cool.

I told you not to do anything fancy. If I can get around on an outside--

Do you know more about hitting than I do?

No. I'm asking you to do two things.

Keep your mouth shut and listen to my instructions.

Can you do that?

Yeah. Yeah.


Don't over swing, all right?

Take a little bit later and drive it into right field.

Here we go.

That's better. That's better.

You ready? Ready.

It's dark in there.

You're not scared?

Clear. Thinking ball and nothing else.

Thinking ball and nothing else.

Keep your head down.

Go, Downtown. Come on, buddy. Give it a ride. Let's go.

Nothing fancy. Keep your head down. - Here's the pitch to Anderson.

It's a swing and a base hit to right. This will send Juan 1 to third.

Downtown's got another base hit, sending his average up near the .300 mark.


This kid's not just a home-run swinger anymore.

He's turning himself into a solid hitter.

Coach, you finished the season in first place.

But, let's face it, you do it without anything that even resembles a Major League player.

Hold it. We got players on this team of Major League caliber. Like, uh, who? Downtown Anderson?

Yeah, for one.

You know, I heard Coach Huff say he thinks Downtown's a mistake.

He even went on to say, I think, that he didn't have any business in the big leagues.

Once again, Leonard Huff has his head shoved up a body cavity that I can't mention on TV.

Excuse me. So you disagree with Huff's evaluation of Anderson?

Not only do I disagree but I'm not even sure that Huff or some of his own players belong in the major leagues.

In fact, as far as I'm concerned, you're looking at the best team in the entire Twins organization.

Ha! You minor-league peckerwad. Beat him man-to-man at every position.

Once again, though, Huff, he considers that incomplete.

I think he even said... I said it was a fluke.

I wanna hear what he's saying. Shut up.

Love this announcer. Shut up.

The light thing was pretty squirrelly. Meaning?

I'd like to check the fingerprints on that light switch.

- Are you saying...? He's accusing me.

This son of a bitch is accusing me.

If we can't beat the Twins, I'll hand over my entire year's salary to Huff.

And if the Twins lose?

I can't believe he's doing this.

The least he could do would be to put up his job.

So this is a, uh, challenge?

A friendly challenge with incentives.

If you win, you get to manage the Twins.

If Huff wins, then he takes home your entire year's salary.

Right. You know what? I'm gonna ask for one condition.

What's that condition gonna be?

This game should be played at home, at Buzz Stadium.

So, Leonard Huff, wherever you are, the ball's in your court.

Oh, Jesus, Lenny! You-- You could have just turned it off!

That son of a bitch set me up.

He knew every sports channel would run this thing.

Nobody ever said he was stupid. I'll say it.

He's stupid. He's stupid, stupid.

He's so stupid. Oh, stop.

He's stupid.

What am I gonna do now?

You got one of two choices. You can either play the Buzz or you can have the entire world of baseball call you a coward.

It's up to you.

By the way, you just bought yourself a $1200 TV. Mm?

Let's go!

Jobu, what are you doing here?

I told you before.

These boys, they've got to do it on their own.

I would love to use you, but I cannot.

So, please, get back in the bag.

But stay close.

Jesus Christ, what a dump.

Oh, man, can you imagine living like this?

Whoa! Look out! Easy. Hey, look out!

Sorry to have to do this, but there's a speech clause in my contract.

I know you've all read in the paper that this game is a publicity stunt.

Part of my ongoing feud with Leonard Huff.

But it would be foolish and self-indulgent for me to put you all in such a jam, in such a tough game for publicity.

No, my motivation is stronger, deeper than that. It's...

It's ego.

Unlike some coaches who might ask you to play the game because you love it or because you're fulfilling a dream, I'm asking plain and simple that you win this one for me.

Yeah. Yeah.

Win this one for Gus Cantrell.

Now, stay loose, play hard. Give it your best shot.

Let's go out there and take a bite out of the big team's ass.

Let's go now! Come on, boys!

Let's go! Play ball!

Gentlemen, you know the ground rules.

So let's shake hands. Have a good, clean ball game.

Let's go! Come on!

Play ball!

I'll give you the beating of your life.

We'll see about that. Yeah, we will.

By the way, some of the guys have been wondering where you got your toupee.

This is not a toupee, all right?

This is real. You can level with me, huh, Lenny?

Come on, where'd you get it? It's real.

It's mine. Come on.

It is. It's real, and it's mine. See that?

Dumbass. Ha!

I'll go, uh, tell the guys they were wrong.

The first pitch has yet to be thrown and already Leonard Huff is tearing his hair out.

And what a lovely head of hair it is.

That is, of course, assuming it's real.

And, frankly, I've always had a question.

You're out!

All right, Lance.

You're out of there!

What style. What finesse.

What "je ne sais quoi," which is Italian for "what a hell of a play."

It's French, and it's je ne sais quoi.

Get out of here. It means the same thing in French?

What about that?

God bless you.

Hog! Hog! Hog!

Strike two!

Kid learned to throw a curveball, huh?

Gee, I don't know. Was that a curveball?

I mean, it's hard for me to tell from way back here.

Carlos moves in closer, trying to get a good look at Hog's mystery pitch.

Otherwise known as a curveball. Probably a curveball.

Carlos is taking the plate away from Hog.

Kid's afraid to throw him inside.

Hog! Hog! Hog!

Come on, man. Come on.


Come on! Come on!

Second. Second.

Alrighty, Hog. Come on, buddy. Hang tough now. Let's go.

Ha-ha! Let's go. Let's go, guys.

We need some more runs now.

Be a hitter up there. Be a hitter up there.

Hey, hey, pitcher's got a rubber arm. Ha-ha! Hey, give me some pistachios.

Hey, that's it. That's it. Go, go, go!

You're out of there!

Good job. Good job.

You all right?

Come on, Buzz!

You're the man!

Yeah! Yeah!

Two! Two!

Come on! Come on, baby.

Well, the entire Lopez family scores.

And the Twins learn the hard way, you can't pitch around Anderson.

He's become a complete hitter.

Come on! Come on, Twins!

All right. Come on, come on. Let's go. I need some more runs.

More runs.

You're out of there!

That's poetry, pure poetry.

Poe, Wadsworth, Barry Manilow, Maya Angelou, this Buzz Ball Club.

What do they all have in common? Poetry.

And I have to ask my colleague, have you ever seen a sunset more beautiful than that play at the plate?

My colleague is speechless. He's speechless.

Come on, let's go! Hey!

Twinkle toes, go ahead and get a lead. A little bigger lead. That's it.

Pitch count. What's the pitch count?

Ninety-seven. Jeez, you moron. You are killing me!

And you are not helping.


All right, all right. Come on, Lance.

Give me an L! L!

Give me an A! A!

Give me an N! N!

Give me a C! C!

Give me an E! E!

What have you got? Lance!

What have you got? Lance!

What have you got? Lance!

Top of the ninth. Twins are leading 4 to 3.

And with two outs and a runner on second, the big man, Carlos Liston, comes to the plate.

Hey, Cantrell!



Man, you must love these minor leagues.

Come on, now! Come on, now! Hit a one-ton tomato! Ha-ha-ha!

Yes, yes, yes!

Foul ball!

Oh, shit!

That ball lands foul for a very long strike one.

All right, Carlos!

Pop one out and I'll give you all the tamales you can eat! Huh?!

Keep it fair!

Yes, yes, yes!

Ah! Yes! Yeah!

I better go talk to him.

Another long strike, and here comes Cantrell.

And I imagine he's gonna ask Hog Ellis to keep some of these strikes inside the park.


Got two strikes on him.


They were beauties too, huh?

He's crowding the plate a little bit.



Hog. Yeah.

You wanna walk him and pitch to the next batter?


I want Carlos.

It's time for a little chin music.

You sure?


When he hits the dirt, you get the ball back to me, quick as you can.

All right. If he comes out, I'll try to cut him off.

No, Pops, you stay put.

This is my fight.

He's gonna knock him down, boys.

He's gonna knock him down. Come on, Hog, let's do it, buddy.

Hey there, hold on!

All right, now, just hold on.

Wait, wait, wait.

Now, this here is a hundred-mile-an-hour fastball.

The most powerful fastball known to man.

From this distance, if it were to hit you, it'd take your head clean off.

Of course, I could miss.

But my control has been pretty good today.

So you gotta ask yourself one question.

Do I feel lucky?

Well... do you, Carlos?

Let's go. Play ball.

Okay, let's play now!

Play ball! Come on!

Let's go! Let's go!

Play ball!

Let's take it to him, come on!

Strike him out!

Strike three, you're out!

Yeah, yeah!

Man, you did it!




This is bad.

Very bad. Not good.

That brings us to the bottom of the ninth.

By the way, folks, Hog Ellis is not a fighter.

For sure. I'm guessing he's appealed to Liston's humane side-- Begging for his life.

--explaining we're here to enjoy the game.

Speak for yourself. There's no reason to get angry or hurt. Especially not Hog.

And let me say this, if there is a sportsmanship award, my vote goes to Hog Ellis.

And, oh, there's the other half of the voodoo magic brothers.

Taka Tanaka.

Taka! Taka! Taka!

You're all nuts. You know that?

Every last one of you.

It's an aura thing, which can only be appreciated by those of an enlightened nature.

Yeah, it doesn't hurt if you're a little tweaked upstairs.

Don't even try and tell me you can see with that thing on.

Tanaka takes a couple of practice cuts and steps up to the plate.

Taka drives one through the infield, and the Buzz have another base hit.

Come on, you guys are killing me! What are you looking at? Huh?

What are you smirking at? Are you smirking at me?

What is this, some conspiracy?

You, I can't even look at you, you waste of time.

Hit the showers, you pig.

Thank you.

Oh, yeah! All right!

Let's go!

Come on, let's go.

Come on, let's go.

You gotta hit. Big hit! Big hit!

What's up? You want me to bunt?

Sacrifice Taka will get him into scoring position.

I want you to go downtown.


I want you to hit the ball into another zip code.

Yes, sir.

Yes, sir.

This is it. Let's go.

This is it!

Gonna sacrifice?

I told him to swing for the fence.

You did what? You heard me.

You never tell a hitter to swing for the fence.

I couldn't help myself.

Play ball!


Come on, buddy.

Swing freeze.

Come on. Come on, come on.

Come on, buddy, hang in there. Get the next one. Go.

I got it! I got it! I got it!

Good try. Good try.

You can do this.

You can do this. You can do this.

It's gone.

Come on, baby. Come on.

It's gone!

That is it. That is all she wrote.

The fat lady is on her way to the field.

What a perfect end to a fantastic season.

Hey, let's be friends. No.

Come on. Give me a little hug. No.

Come on. One little hug. No! Stay away!

I'm a married man. Come on.

Let me carry you downstairs.

That's it.

It's over.

I'm not a Pirate, I'm not a Yankee, I'm not even a Red Sock.

I am a damn Buzz.

Thank you.


Yeah, that's what I am, a Buzz.

As far as I'm concerned, a deal's a deal.

I know how long you've waited to get to the major leagues.

And I know... that it has been a lifelong dream.

Boy, I never thought I'd say this, but I'm gonna have to pass.

I'm talking about a job with the Twins, Gus.

I got a lot of information I'd like to pass on to young ballplayers.

That's where I belong, and that's what I wanna do.

You wanna manage a minor league team?

That's right.

I wanna stick with the Buzz, if it's okay with you.

Of course, but-- But, uh, thanks.

Your attention, please. Flight 53 to Miami is now boarding at Gate 28.

Oh, that's us.

Wait a minute. Where are you guys going?

It's called a honeymoon.

Wave bye-bye.

Hey, that's great! Congratulations!

Hey, I don't have any plans.

You mind if I come along?

Yeah, we do.

Cheap seats!

And he hits it and it's going, going, could be, it is a home run!

Yeah, it is.