BASEketball

...4 runs batted in. And he's already hit

2 home runs tonight.

Reggie!

Just listen to that crowd.

- Reggie!

Come on, Reggie! Hit another homerun!

- Coop, he's already hit two.

It's a high fly ball to right...

That's way back

and it's... gone.

Reggie Jackson hits

his 3rd home run of the game.

Good catch, Coop!

- I can't believe it!

I totally had it,

but my glasses slipped.

Remer, someday I'm gonna become

a big sports star. - Whatever you say.

You just watch me, dude.

There was a time in America

when contests of athletic prowess

were a metaphor for the nobility of man.

Historic moments,

forged by the love of the game,

celebrated the human potential

to achieve excellence. But as time passed

and the country neared the millennium,

something went awry.

Manning rolls right. He's got Plough

at the ten... Touchdown,

Dallas.

The ideal of sportsmanship

began to take a back seat

to excessive celebration.

The athletes caring less about playing

than planning the vulgar grandstanding

that inevitably followed even the most

pedestrian of accomplishments.

The games became

subordinate to the quest for money.

Stadiums and arenas became no more

than giant billboards

to promote commercial products.

Players sold their services

to the highest bidder,

much like the hired guns

of the Old West.

After playing for New England, San Diego,

Houston, St. Louis,

a year for the Toronto Argonauts,

plus one season at the Desert Inn,

I'm happy to finally play here

in the fine city of Miami.

Minnesota.

Whatever. Sh*t.

Soon it was commonplace for entire teams

to change in search of greater profits.

The Minneapolis Lakers moved to

Los Angeles, where there are no lakes.

The Oilers moved to Tennessee,

where there's no oil.

The Jazz moved to Salt Lake City

where they don't allow music.

The Oakland Raiders moved to L.A.

And then back to Oakland.

No one in L.A. Seemed to notice.

The search for greener pastures went on.

Continued expansion diluted

the talent pool, forcing owners

to recruit heavily from prisons,

mental institutions and Texas.

Fistfighting and brawling

overshadowed every athletic competition.

As the problems mounted,

the fans became less and less interested.

To reverse the trend,

major sports started interleague play.

Then they tried intersports play.

But no matter how far major sports went,

it wasn't enough

to bring the fans back.

The spirit of athletic competition, though,

indeed was not dead.

Its seed merely lay dormant

in the dreams of the young.

You know, Remer, someday

I'm gonna be a big sports star.

You know, Remer, someday

I'm gonna own a big sports bar.

Hurry up, Coop.

- I just gotta water the plants.

I don't wanna be with high school losers.

This is Brittany Kaiser's house,

and I really wanna f*** her.

Dr. Kaiser!

Coop and Remer.

We graduated with Brittany.

- You graduated?

Of course we did, cock. Beer?

This place looks like

a "Dockers" commercial. Hey, Stef!

Coop! Remer!

Want a beer?

Oh, my God! You haven't changed at all.

Cool!

No, it isn't.

Cock!

Hey, Skid Mark Steve!

You still hanging out

and playing Nintendo?

- I'm in my 2nd year of med school

and training for the Summer Games.

What're you two up to?

Hanging out, playing Nintendo. Cock.

Hi, Brittany!

Didn't think you guys would show up.

We wouldn't miss it. - I don't remember

putting you on the guest list.

Ted told us about it.

Excuse me!

Why did you tell those losers? - Me...

Let's bail. - No, let's go to Brittany's room!

Come in here! Check it out.

Brittany's underwear. - Aw, dude!

Dude!

I am so jealous of you.

Excuse me! - Brittany!

What're you doing in my mom's room?

Get outta here!

Oh, Jesus!

We'll never get her. - Or any chick.

We have no jobs, the rent's overdue

and our gas is about to get shut off.

What do girls want anyway?

Apparently, not total losers.

- We're pretty good at basketball.

As long as we don't have to run

or jump or dribble.

That sh*t's overrated anyway.

You guys up for a little game?

- Sure.

Let's make it interesting.

20 bucks? - How about 50? - You're on.

Haven't got 50 bucks. - They're no good.

Oh, sh*t!

We playing or not?

But not that p*ssy ass two-on-two

you guys play in the suburbs.

You guys got something better?

- This new game we picked up in the hood.

What is it?

Okay.

I shoot from wherever I want, right?

Then you have to make the same shot,

or else you get a letter.

You mean like "horse"?

- It's not like "horse".

Duh. It's uh...

baseball rules.

A single's

from the freethrow line.

A double's from the top of the key.

- You have to shoot from a different place.

A triple's from back here, and a home run's

from behind the meatballs.

You miss, you get an out.

Ready? Break. - What?

We can explain it more slowly,

big sports guys!

No, we get it.

Losers up first.

- This is a single, right?

And a homerun's behind the meatballs.

- Take your shot, guy!

You can't spit beer at me! - I can do

what I want to make you miss your shot!

He's right. That's one out.

- One out? Give me the damn ball!

I f***ed your sister.

Coop lines up for a double.

Okay, guys, 2nd and 3rd.

Runner on 3rd. This could bring him home.

Yeah, two outs!

Come on!

Tip-in! Double play, three outs!

- What? - We're up.

That's nice!

- This could almost seal it.

Made that look easy!

One of Brittany's mom's pubic hairs!

Oh, God!

Man! - Dude, we win the game! A sweet

psyche-out. - Here's another one!

We win and they get

the chicks. That sucks, dude.

- We gotta get jobs.

Then we get the khakis.

Then the chicks.

Starting tomorrow

we gotta stop playing games!

Miss it. Steve Perry...

Yes! Three outs. I'm up.

- Bottom of the 5th. - Joseph R. Cooper?

Single! Man on 1st.

- Are you Joe Cooper?

Cut the crap, Squeak. You know me.

This authorizes me to enter

your property and terminate services

until all delinquent payments

have been generated. - What?

He's here to shut off the gas.

- You work for the gas company?

Gentlemen...

- Double! Guy on 2nd and 3rd.

Is your canine locked up

or secured within your domicile?

He's getting his claws removed.

- If you'll excuse me.

Does it just suck being you?

- I'll show those guys

what sucks.

Oh yeah, he misses...

- Damn it!

...I'm running outta ideas.

- That's why we have this short shot.

Kind of like a bunt. - Exactly!

Doesn't put any runners on base. - Sweet!

You lied to me! Again!

Right. The dog's appointment is tomorrow.

- Honest mistake, Squeak.

My name's not Squeak. It's Kenny!

Alright, you little b*tch.

Take a shot!

No, I wanna turn off your gas.

And don't call me b*tch!

Okay, Squeak, let's just shoot for it.

What? Are you insane?

This is my job, you a**holes!

All you gotta do

is make a single from here,

and you can shut off our gas, and

we'll never call you Squeak again.

Or b*tch.

Or b*tch.

From here?

Alright. Check this sh*t out!

Tough break, Squeak.

Now you gotta fetch the ball, b*tch.

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