Angels in the Outfield Page #5

You're sure they were angels?

They weren't groundkeepers?

Or they were peanut vendors?

Angels.

Sister? Mr. McGovern and Miss Paige,

they'd like to see Bridget.

Oh, please. Can I?

I don't see why not.

Organically, she's fine.

Just a little upset stomach is all.

But emotionally, I'm not so sure.

You really think that we should...?

He can do no harm,

he's an excellent man.

Bridget, I don't want to alarm you,

but we're going to call another doctor.

He won't give you any medicine,

he'll just ask a few questions.

- You understand, don't you?

- Sure.

You want to find out if I'm wacky.

Doctor, I'm sure it's not necessary.

Only a few minutes, please.

Now, don't you go upsetting her.

- How're you feeling?

- Much better, thank you.

Oh, you just ate too much junk?

It was the nicest time I ever had.

I brought you a present.

- Oh, thank you. You shouldn't have.

- Oh, it's nothing.

It's beautiful.

Yeah, it jumps, too, if you just squeeze

this little thing here at the end, see?

- It talks too.

- Imagine.

It's just a kid's kangaroo.

I'll take it back...

...and get you a real toy.

- Oh, no, please. I love it.

- But will you come to see me again anyway?

- Yeah, sure.

Every day, as long as you're sick.

Miss Paige too?

Me too. Now, I think

you better get some sleep.

Yeah, good night, Bridget.

Every day while I'm sick?

- Of course.

- Sure.

Good night.

This story became a national issue.

Everyone was talking about angels.

There were newsreel interviews

with baseball celebrities.

Joe DiMaggio, Yankee center fielder.

What do you think, Joe?

If McGovern needs any extra angels,

we'd be glad to give him a couple of ours.

Ty Cobb, one of baseball's

all-time greats.

What do you think, Mr. Cobb?

Well, all I can say is that this game

of baseball has certainly changed.

Songwriter Harry Ruby,

composer of "Three Little Words"...

... America's number one baseball fan.

I predicted this at the start of the season

when I said, "Heaven help the Pirates."

Bing Crosby, part owner

of the Pittsburgh Pirates.

You know, I think this angel stuff's

pretty sound.

Lots of times folks think

someone's watching over them.

Thanks.

Whenever the team was in town,

McGovern paid a visit to the orphanage.

And he made good his promise

to bring a new present.

Now, if you'll just go back to your seats

so everybody can see.

Just turn this knob, see? Now watch.

He's got that chinlock again.

Yanking his head back.

The Monster is trying

to put on a leg-crusher.

- Very educational.

- Yeah.

When the Pirates climbed into third place,

the newspapers laid off McGovern.

The angels were completely forgotten.

Tell him to bunt.

Wait, let him hit away.

Stay in there, Lou.

Safe.

- That was a nice switch.

- Just a hunch.

- Happy birthday, McGovern.

- Well, what goes on?

- A party.

- Yeah, but how did you know?

Bridget looked it up in The Sporting News.

- Hello.

- Oh, hi, Joe.

I didn't throw out a single thing

you'll ever miss.

- Don't you like it?

- Oh, sure. Sure, I like it.

Hey, a cake and everything.

Jennifer made it. I turned on the oven.

What'd you know,

a regular birthday party.

I haven't had one since I was 10.

Believe me, that's a long time ago.

- It sure is. The book said that...

- Never mind, honey.

I'll tell you what,

on you're birthday I'll give you a party.

- When is it?

- Well, I'm not sure exactly.

But the home picked October 5th.

That's the only day they had open.

Look, you help me in the kitchen,

and Bridget...

...why don't you give Joe

a piece of the celery, huh? Thattagirl.

I hope you don't mind.

She's getting a kick out of it.

No, no, no, why should I mind?

Would you hand me the salt, please?

Hey, what smells? So good, I mean.

Oh, "Ragout of veal a la brignole."

Well, fancy stuff.

You eat too many steaks, McGovern.

Change will be good for you.

Yeah, brignole smells great.

You know, I often wonder

who dreams up all these things.

- "Mrs. Harkrider Oates of Rawson Avenue."

- Is that so?

Her favorite recipe,

guaranteed to keep men at home.

Now the butter, please.

- Well, we won again today, didn't we?

- Yeah, we did.

I suppose you realize that we're only

five games out of first place?

- I've heard some talk.

- Isn't it wonderful?

Just a few weeks ago we were last.

- Wonder how it happened.

- Angels.

Parsley, please.

The green stuff, the parsley.

Right there.

Thank you.

I have a different theory, you know.

- You have?

- I think it's you.

- Me?

- Sure, the Pirates are playing as a team.

Why don't you take your apron off,

honey?

Because you're not losing your temper,

and yelling your head off...

...and swinging on people.

Sister Edwitha says,

"Never swing on people.

- You should turn the other cheek."

- There's two schools of thought on that.

My school recommends

getting in the first punch.

Sister Edwitha says,

"Turn the other cheek."

- You see?

- Okay, okay, I suppose she knows best.

Now, you can carry this.

Bridget, you take the peas.

Now, be careful, they're hot. There.

Look out!

You'll sit on the presents.

- That one's mine.

- I'll save this till last.

- Well.

- Not too loud, is it?

No, no, yellow and green's not loud.

Now...

Well, what do you know, a baseball.

It's not just an ordinary baseball.

Jennifer sent it into the clubhouse

and all the Pirates signed it.

See? All except Mr. Hellman.

- He was in the shower.

- Imagine, an autographed ball.

It's just what I wanted.

Well...

...come on, let's try this.

Well, what's the matter?

- What about grace?

- Grace who?

Oh, grace. Yeah, grace.

I almost forgot.

You lead off.

Oh, Lord, make us truly thankful

for these thy gifts...

...which we are about to receive. Amen.

You know, I'm hungry.

I hope I fixed enough of everything.

Cooking for myself the way I do

I'm never exactly sure how much I should...

- Oh, don't eat that.

- No, no, it's delicious.

Oh, no don't. It's poison.

Oh, I've never in all my life...

Mrs. Harkrider Oates of Rawson Avenue

is gonna hear from me in the morning.

- Keeps men at home, does it?

- Maybe she means permanently.

I can't understand it, though.

Unless that olive oil...

Could it have been rancid?

How long have you had it?

- What olive oil?

- The olive oil in the cupboard.

In the bottle in the cupboard.

- Neat's-foot oil.

- What?

Not olive oil, neat's-foot oil.

I rub it in my glove.

Keeps the leather soft.

Well, of all the...

What's it doing in the cupboard?

I gotta put it someplace.

It's wonderful for gloves.

Well, it certainly

doesn't do anything for veal.

The peas are fine.

Well, you can't make a meal on peas.

Oh, I just feel awful.

- I should have looked at the bottle.

- Now, wait, wait.

Don't lose your head.

This is my birthday...

...and I'm not going to have it spoiled

by Mrs. Harkrider Oates of Rawson Avenue.

How's that, all right?

Well, well, well,

this is a cozy little scene.

- Birthday party?

- Yeah, yeah, keep moving.

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