Cobb Page #3

You need me a lot worse than I need you!

What, are you gonna kill me?

I killed a man one time!

Fine, then shoot me

and put me out of my f***ing misery...

because I'm freezing!

Okay, Stumpy, that's good.

I like a man who stands up to me.

That's good, son.

- Come on, let's go.

- Give me the keys, I'm driving.

It's only an hour. I can tell you my story

before we get to those women.

Women? Plural?

Some for me and some for you.

We're gonna have a hell of a time.

I bet them girls are lining up now

for ol' Ty and Stump.

Why don't you worry less about women

and stay on the road?

My philosophy is simply this.

Life is too short to be diplomatic.

A man's friends should not care

what he does or says.

Those who are not his friends,

to hell with them.

You wanna know about my childhood?

That's what writers

usually wanna know about.

Fine, but none of this "know ye that

a prince and great man has fallen" stuff.

I was born in a small town in north Georgia.

My daughter lives there to this day.

I started playing baseball as a kid,

like everybody else.

- But I was better than everybody else.

- Watch!

I started playing for money when I was 17.

Father didn't approve.

Fathers will be that way. Watch the road.

Father was a great man.

He was also a learned man, a professor.

He was being groomed for governor

from the day in 1900 he was elected mayor.

...Franklin County politics,

and I will deliver.

I promise that City Hall will be...

He was the pillar of Franklin County.

Head Deacon in the Baptist church.

My father was everything.

Blood drawn from Emmanuel's veins

And sinners plunged

into that flood

My mother was the most beautiful woman

in the county.

She married my father when she was 12,

which was the way they used to do it.

And she taught me to believe in the hymns

we sang in church.

I especially liked the bloody ones.

"And the sinners plunged beneath that flood

lose all their guilty stains. "

In the name of the father, the Son...

and the Holy Ghost, I was baptized.

And a short time later...

walking home with my pals...

feeling very Christian...

ready to live the good life...

my father didn't drink, smoke,

gamble, or chase women...

and I wasn't going to, either.

All of a sudden...

there was a train coming at us...

on the southbound track.

There I was,

a newly baptized child of God...

who hadn't hardly sinned,

and I was gonna die.

I felt strangely calm...

and as the train got closer,

I just stood there...

and stood, and stood.

Hell, I knew when to jump.

That was the greatest thrill of my life...

not counting the first time

I saw a woman naked.

I felt protected by my father...

by my mother, the baptism.

I don't know, but From that moment on...

I knew I could not be hurt.

My father died in a terrible accident,

you know?

No, I didn't.

My father was murdered.

Isn't that the kind of thing

you're looking for?

Murdered.

Your father was murdered?

It happened when I was 17...

about three or four days

before Detroit called me up.

- Was the killer ever caught?

- There was an arrest,

trial, an acquittal...

but never a conviction.

Jesus Christ. I'm sorry.

Don't give me that sob-sister crap.

The only thing that matters

is a man's accomplishments.

I must say, in all humility...

I'm the greatest baseball

player of all time.

Nobody even comes a close second.

They say I used to sharpen my spikes.

Georgia Peach, my ass, you son of a b*tch!

You're gonna get hurt today,

you son of a b*tch.

You wanna do it right now, or out there?

Come on back here.

But I ask you:

Can you hurt a man worse by cutting him up

with dull, rusty steel...

or a finely honed, razor-sharp edge?

You could view my efforts as humanitarian.

Double left, steal third, steal home.

- Eight to one.

- Bullshit!

- Ten to one.

.$1oo.

Leroy, come and hold this man's money.

You ain't going to be holding it long.

What in the hell is going on in this dugout?

Where did all these newspapers come from?

What are you doing?

When did you learn how to read?

Why don't you get your head

in the ballgame?

Hello to each and every one of you.

- Who signed you?

- Go to hell, Cobb.

Who did that?

Excellent day for a game of ball.

- How do you do, Cyclops?

- Shut up, Cobb.

You're missing an excellent ball game.

By the way...

your wife left these

in my automobile last night.

I thought you might wanna

take them back to her.

Let's see what we have on the mound today.

- Play ball!

- Come along!

Strike one!

Is that all your boy has?

This must be a hometown boy. Look at this.

You better check your wife.

One of the ballplayers are missing.

Come on, boy.

You're going down, Cobb.

Ball!

Is that the fastest you can throw?

If I couldn't throw any better than that,

I'd wear a dress!

It's kind of tough hittin'

from your back, ain't it?

That's the way your mother always liked it.

Play ball!

- Safe!

- Get out of here, boy!

You should've thrown it at my head!

You should've tried to kill me!

I hear you're from Georgia,

where the men are men...

- and the sheep are nervous.

- Get back on that hill.

I'm gonna steal third on you, young man.

I'm coming down there!

That's enough!

Come on, Cobb!

You want in on the action?

My grandmother throws better than that!

- I'm coming down to kick your daggone ass!

- Come on!

I should've stuck it in that bastard's ear

when I had a chance.

He's going, he's going!

Safe!

Son of a b*tch!

In those days, you didn't hold hands

and dance with the men on the other teams.

They were the enemy

and you fought with them.

And I was the most hated man in baseball.

You know what it's like

to be booed like that?

It feels wonderful!

They couldn't live without me!

They came to the ball park to see me!

fifty thousand fans trying to kill me,

everywhere I went.

I had so many death threats at one time...

the cops had to patrol the outfield

and the stands, looking for snipers.

I loved it!

Hey, Cobb! Just stay out of my game...

Only great men are booed, Stump.

Captains of industry, presidents,

I knew them all.

It was a fact, in those days,

that Woodrow Wilson had the best scotch...

and used to invite me to the White House

to try it out.

It was also a Fact

that Warren Harding had the best broads...

and threw the best damn parties.

I can tell you right now

that Calvin Coolidge...

and that stupid cat of his

weren't any fun at all.

After World War Il, General George Patton

asked me for my autograph.

Said he'd patterned himself after me.

- You getting all this?

- I'll remember.

- How come you don't write it down?

- Because I'm preparing to die.

- I'm not ready to die.

- I'm not either!

I'm going to Reno to get laid,

and you're gonna get laid.

Maybe I don't want to get laid.

You queer?

- I'm married.

- I thought you were divorced.

No, we're having a problem,

but we're talking it out.

"Talking. " Sh*t. Quit hanging on.

Get you a divorce.

That why you won't get laid in Reno?

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