Cobb Page #6

you're trying to get in the sack.

I'm sorry. I gotta apologize.

I'm really not myself.

Who is?

This assignment has got me

totally befuddled.

Am I to tell the world

that this monster is a prince?

Am I just supposed to lie?

- You getting paid?

- Very well.

Then it's not a lie. It's a job.

Quit agonizing. Take the money.

- Do what you gotta do,

and get it over with.

- I can't.

- Then quit.

- I can't.

- For God's sake, why not?

- Because he knows greatness.

I wanna learn about greatness.

Greatness is overrated.

Maybe you're right.

I'm sorry I bothered you.

I've been a little out of sorts.

See you around.

I'm an expert on out of sorts.

Don't drink too much.

You think I won't be able to screw

if I'm too drunk?

Yeah, that crossed my mind.

Screw...

Hey, I love this song.

You are so thoughtful.

The others are trying to get me drunk...

and you're trying to keep me sober.

You'd be good husband material.

Let's dance.

Honey, I was...

Let's dance, Ginger.

Ramona.

Maybe this isn't such a good idea.

You two-timing bastard!

You goddamn Judas Iscariot!

You're stealing my girl.

Stop that. She's not your girl.

Are you crazy?

Mr. Stump, are you okay?

You're coming with me, young lady.

Come on here, God damn it!

What's that?

It's my hair.

Put it back on.

That's better.

Who are you again?

I'm the Georgia Peach.

And I have 4,191 base hits...

in 11,429 at-bats...

920 stolen bases...

2,244 runs scored...

and 93 batting records...

and I want you take off

every stitch of your clothes.

I don't think so.

That don't scare me.

'Cause if you kill me, I'll be dead,

and you're not gonna screw a dead lady.

I might like it.

Now you take off them goddamn clothes.

You got big tits?

I like big tits.

Actually they're not so big.

They're quite average.

That's the way they stuff these outfits,

you know, they just...

build them.

I owe a lot to these wigs and things.

A girl's got to do what she's got to do,

you know.

Shut up!

You're shy.

Get on the bed.

Get on that bed.

My God, you're beautiful.

Lay down.

Roll over.

What I could have done with you

in my prime.

- I'm sure you could have, Mr. Cobb-

- Shut up!

Turn around.

I want you to do exactly

what I tell you to do.

Exactly what I say.

$1,ooo.

- Just do what you gotta do.

- Shut up!

You take this $1,OOO

and you tell everybody you meet...

that you f***ed the great Ty Cobb.

And I was the greatest f***

you've ever had in your life.

That's all?

- You want more? I'm a very wealthy man.

- No.

- Is that what you want me to do?

- Yes, will you do it?

Yeah!

You are looking at a very beautiful woman,

you limber son of b*tch!

Dead down here.

Damn thing has been like that

for two damn years!

Nothing! Dead!

Get the goddamn hell out of here.

"Georgia Peach," my ass.

Georgia trash is what he is.

Are you all right?

That was the best piece of ass I ever had.

God almighty, what a beautiful girl!

Have we missed the testimonial dinner?

We got to get up and go.

No, it's okay.

Just lie down.

We'll go to the testimonial dinner.

Got to get up and go, Stump.

I wouldn't miss it for the world.

That night I made a decision.

I decided to tell the truth.

I also made another decision.

I was gonna stay with him

and finish the book...

no matter where he took me.

I began working on two manuscripts.

One was his version, My Life in Baseball.

How to steal second base...

or how to hit the breaking ball

to the opposite field.

It contained nothing about his parents.

It contained nothing

about his children and ex-wives...

none of whom would even speak to him.

It contained no insights from his friends

because I couldn't find any.

It was a baseball book.

I kept it in the typewriter...

for him to discover and amend.

It was a book I never planned to publish.

The second book, my book...

was written on

legal pads and hotel stationery...

and cocktail napkins

and anything I could scrape together...

without drawing his attention.

Nothing like a cigarette girl...

and 30 hours of sleep

to invigorate a man, Stumpy.

You look like sh*t.

What's the matter with you?

I've been writing.

Let's see how we're doing here.

Yes, now you're getting it!

It's none of this Sigmund Freud bullshit,

it's baseball.

You understand.

People are no damn good, Stump.

But you get it.

And I can trust you.

That's the way it goes, Stumpy.

They boo all your career

and when you're dying...

put you on a pedestal.

That's being a legend.

- That for the record?

- Sure as hell is.

I'm gonna buy in here right now,

right there!

Place your bets, folks. New shooter.

Money plays, give me some hot dice...

for the hot hand, we're gonna have

a hot table any minute.

Play's five. Mark it.

Hi there, Magic Hands.

Stumpy, what is that?

Joey, two to pass, two to come,

two on four the hard way.

I'll be a son of a b*tch.

Four!

Very nice, thank you very much.

It's a five. It's a three

and a two. Point's five.

My girl go with that n*gger?

I'll be goddamned.

They're standing next to each other-

Ramona, you with that n*gger?

Money placed on the five. Forget it.

- That man is a monster.

- Yeah, I know.

Wait, is she with you?

This is my man, Mr. Cobb, and he's all man.

My girl with my n*gger.

I'll be a goddamned son of a b*tch.

You better duck down now,

you son of a b*tch!

He's got a gun. Get down.

You goddamn yellow-belly.

Do you know who the hell I am?

I told him the testimonial dinner

at the Hall of fame was approaching...

even though it was still weeks away.

But at least that news got him away

without getting us in jail...

or getting somebody killed.

And as we headed across country...

Cobb, as usual, was oblivious

to the chaos he left in his wake.

And then this fat ass named Babe Ruth

came into the league...

and near destroyed the game of baseball.

We thought he'd eat

and screw his way out of the league...

but he hung on for a few years.

Hung on?

Come on, Ty.

The man was the greatest ballplayer,

next to you, of all time.

I mean, he hit 714 home runs.

Anybody can hit a home run.

Now, excuse me, I got work to do.

Sorry, Ty.

I didn't care that they loved, cheered,

and adored Babe Ruth...

I did care that they

respected his ball playing.

They built Yankee Stadium for him...

with a 297-foot right field line.

My sister, Florence,

could hit the ball 297 feet.

Come on, aren't you gonna give Ruth

credit for anything?

He ran okay for a fat man.

You know something, Alimony,

I think you're the best friend I ever had.

You're kidding!

I swear on the Bible,

I feel I can trust you now.

And he kept talking.

The gospel according to Ty Cobb.

Baseball is a red-blooded sport,

for red-blooded men.

It's no pink tea,

and mollycoddles had better stay out of it.

It's a struggle for supremacy,

a survival of the fittest.

I had to fight all my life to survive.

They were all against me.

But I beat the bastards

and left them in the ditch.

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