Bull Durham Page #5

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EBBY:

The socks? It's cold in here.

ANNIE:

(sweetly, unthreatening)

You think Dwight Gooden leaves

his socks on?

Ebby considers this. Pulls his pants back up. Takes his

socks off. Then his pants.

ANNIE:

Ebby honey have you ever been

handcuffed in bed?

CUT TO:

EXT. DOWNTOWN DURHAM -- NIGHT

Deserted streets of the old tobacco town. Crash walks alone.

He picks up an old newspaper out of a trash can. He stops

in front of a store window. He rolls the newspaper like a

short bat. He takes a batting stance, and--

CRASH TAKES HIS BATTING STANCE in front of the window,

studying his reflection. He taken a "swing". And another.

A GROUP OF OLD BLACK MEN stand in a doorway, watching.

CUT TO:

INT. ANNIE'S BEDROOM -'CONTINUOUS NIGHT

CLICK -- A handcuff is locked onto Ebby's wrist. Both his

arms are outstretched--he's getting very excited.

EBBY:

Awright! I read about stuff like

this. Bring it on!

Annie calmly drags a chair over and sits down.

ANNIE:

Sweetie, have you ever heard of

Walt Whitman?

EBBY:

Who's he play for?

ANNIE:

Well, he sort of pitches for the

Cosmic All-Stars.

EBBY:

Never heard of 'em.

Annie opens a book and begins reading as Piaf sings softly.

ANNIE:

Good--then listen.

(reading)

"I sing the body electric. The

armies of those I love engirth me

and I engirth them--"

EBBY:

We gonna f*** or what?

ANNIE:

Shh, shh...

(reading)

"They will not let me off till I

go with them, respond to them,

and discorrupt them and charge

them"

DISSOLVE TO:

SAME SCENE -- LATER

ANNIE:

"Limitless limpid jets of love

hot and enormous -- quivering

jelly of love, white blow and

delirious juice--

CLOSE ON EBBY'S FACE -- Intrigued, aroused, frightened.

CUT TO:

EXT. DOWNTOWN DURHAM -- NIGHT

THE OLD BLACK MAN is tossing wadded up balls of paper at

Crash who takes beautiful, fluid swings with the rolled up

newspaper. Batting practice.

CLOSE ON CRASH'S EYES -- Studying the "pitches" with intense

concentration, endlessly working on his game.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE DURHAM FIELD -- NEXT DAY

LARRY, DEKE, MICKEY AND BOBBY ARE SINGING at home plate as a

pre-game show. Larry is Diana Ross, the other three are the

Supremes, and the routine is brilliantly tacky.

LARRY (AND THE SUPREMES)

Baby love, oh oh, baby love, I

need ya oh how I need ya, All ya

do is treat me bad, Take my heart

and leave me sad...

CUT TO:

INT. DURHAM BULLS LOCKER ROOM -- DAY

JIMMY STANDS ON A BENCH trying to get the players' attention.

JIMMY:

Listen up, guys, could I have

your attention a minute?

(a few heads turn)

I'm going to be leading a daily

chapel service at three In the

afternoons here in the locker

room and you're all invited to

drop by and worship before batting

practice.

BOBBY:

Jimmy, God damn it--loosen up and

get laid.

BOBBY, 25, smooths the creases of his uniform, preening.

JIMMY:

I don't care If you think I'm

square but I believe what I

believe.

All heads turn as:

EBBY ENTERS THE LOCKER ROOM -- He looks trashed.

BOBBY:

Jesus, Ebby, what truck ran over

you?

EBBY:

(glassy eyed)

Call me "Nuke". Annie said it's

my new nickname.

Lots of teasing from around the clubhouse.

DEKE:

Annie nailed you? That's great,

means you're gonna have a helluva

year. Does she f*** as good as

they say?

EBBY:

We didn't do it, man--she read

poetry to me all night, I swear.

It's more tiring than f***ing.

EBBY GOES TO HIS LOCKER and starts undressing. Crash sits

next to him, looking straight ahead. Bobby nearby.

EBBY:

--of love"...hey, Crash, does

that mean what I think it means?

What's the deal here?

Crash studies Ebby.

CRASH:

Your shower shoes have fungus on

'em. You'll never get to the

Bigs with fungus on your shower

shoes.

(beat)

Think classy and you'll be classy.

If you win 20 in the Show you can

let the fungus grow back on your

shower shoes and the press'll

think you're colorful.

(beat)

Until you win twenty in the Show,

however, it means you're a slob.

CRASH RISES AND HEADS OUT to the field. Ebby sits silently,

holding his shower shoes, taking it all in.

CUT TO:

EXT. DURHAM BALLPARK -- GAME IN PROGRESS -- DAY

IN THE DUGOUT -- THE GAME FROM A DUGOUT P.O.V. The players

sit, stand, stir restlessly. A combination of relaxation

and intensity not visible from the stands.

CRASH IS HANDED HIS BAT and helmet by the bat boy.

DEKE:

This guy's bringing some serious

smoke out there.

DUGOUT P.O.V. THE WINSTON-SALEM PITCHER throwing hard.

CRASH:

He ain't got sh*t.

FOLLOW CRASH INTO THE ON-DECK CIRCLE -- The ritual. The bat

boy hands him the pine tar rag and he rubs pine tar on the

bat with great care.

CRASH RISES -- Heads to the plate. Talking to himself.

CRASH:

You ain't getting that cheese by

me, meat.

CRASH TAKES HIS STANCE -- Upright. Calm. Head still.

CRASH (VOICE OVER)

Look for the fastball up. He's

gotta come with the cheese. Relax.

Relax. Quick bat. Pop the

clubhead. Open the hips. Relax.

You're thinking too much. Get

outta your f***in' head, Crash.

CLOSE ON CRASH'S FACE -- His eyes intensely focused.

CRASH'S P.O.V. THE PITCHER -- Starts his windup.

CRASH (VOICE OVER)

Get on top of the ball. Quick

bat. Don't let him in your kitchen--

THE PITCHER DELIVERS -- Crash strides. Curveball.

Crash swings and misses, offstride. Strike one.

CRASH QUICKLY STEPS OUT OF THE BOX and picks up dirt. Rubs

it on his hands. He's pissed.

CRASH (VOICE OVER)

You stupid f***, Crash. What're

you swinging at a breaking ball

for? Why's he starting me off

with a hammer? F*** me.

(more dirt)

You're okay. Stay back. Stay

back, you dumb f***. Wait. Wait.

P.O.V. THE PITCHER'S NEXT DELIVERY -- CURVE BALL AWAY.

CRASH STRIDES INTO THE PITCH -- Lashes a line drive down the

first base line. Just foul.

Crash has started to first. Pulls up. Returns slowly to

the plate. Picks up his bat.

CRASH:

Throw that sh*t again, meat.

Throw that weak ass sh*t.

(beat)

Now he's gotta try to slip the

cheese by me. one and one.

You're on top. Now bring me the gas--

--P.O.V. PITCHER'S THIRD DELIVERY -- High and tight. Right

at Crash's head. The ball seems to accelerate. About to

explode his skull. For a moment--THE FEAR OF DEATH...

CRASH HITS THE DIRT -- It just misses his head.

CRASH CLIMBS OUT OF THE DIRT -- Brushes himself off.

CRASH (VOICE OVER)

This son of a b*tch throws hard.

(beat)

Annie, Annie, Annie--who is this

Annie?

(catching himself)

Jesus, get outta the box you idiot,

where's your head? Get the broad

outta your head.

CRASH HOLDS UP HIS HAND to the ump.

CRASH:

Time out.

UMP:

Time out!

CRASH STEPS OUT OF THE BOX -- Motions to the bat boy for the

pine tar rag. The boy brings it over. Crash re-applies it

to his bat.

BAT BOY:

Get a hit, Crash.

CRASH:

Shut up.

CRASH WALKS BACK TO THE BOX -- Talking to himself.

CRASH:

Awright, awright. You've seen

all his pitches. Two and one.

Relax. Wait. Quick bat. You

can hit this sh*t--

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