Everybody Wants Some

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Hey! Shut off the hose!

There's a f***ing

faucet outside, man! Hurry up!

- Go! God!

- Jesus!

Sh*t!

- What a piece of sh*t old house, man.

- Yup, yup.

F***ing thing wasn't even half full.

Who the hell are you?

Oh, uh, Jake Bradford.

- Infielder?

- Pitcher.

- What?

- Hey! Whoa!

Just what we need,

another f***ing pitcher.

Not a lefty, are you?

Uh, no, no, right-handed.

Thank God.

Those guys are always so f***ing weird.

Like Nez. I hate that guy.

I love Nez.

He's fine. He's just f***ing weird.

Hey, I'm just gonna

tell you something right now.

- Yup.

- I hate pitchers, okay?

So you and me will be teammates,

but we're not gonna

be friends or anything like that.

It might give you some kind of edge

if I gotta face you

down the line in pro ball,

if you ever make it there.

I'm just not gonna do that.

- All right.

- Those your bags?

- Wanna pick your sh*t up?

- Oh, yeah. Sorry.

- Excuse me. Bye.

- Yup. Bye.

You know, nobody really realizes

how much water weighs.

You're talking about

62 pounds per cubic foot.

- Yeah.

- You know, I tried to warn them.

But let's be honest,

that would be

f***ing amazing

if that fell through the ceiling right now.

Dude, this is a good example

of someone being so invested

in what they want.

In this case, getting laid on an

oversized, overpriced water balloon,

that they fail to see

the giant waterbed-shaped

iceberg right in their path.

Mmm-hmm.

Or he just finds you

super-annoying and ignores you.

At his own peril,

as evidenced by this ill-fated

and ill-advised adventure

in mid-collapse before you...

I assume, being a new

teammate.

Thank you, Willoughby. I'm Finn.

Uh, Jake.

- Hi. Charlie Willoughby. Hi.

- Jake. Good to meet you.

Nice to meet you.

Did you meet the brain trust

that perpetrated such a folly,

McReynolds and Roper?

Uh, yeah, yeah. Uh, I think so.

One of them told me he hated pitchers.

Even his own teammates.

Undoubtedly Glen McReynolds,

resident All-American.

On the field, you know.

Up here, benchwarmer.

Hey. Chapter 9 will blow your mind.

- Yeah?

- Yeah.

Guys.

Is it true that our house

is about to fall down?

Yeah, any second.

What's up, man? Jake Bradford.

What's up, dude? Tyrone Plummer.

Man, you can't even

f*** good on a waterbed.

It's like having sex with a girl

on top of another really fat girl,

know what I mean?

- Just moving around.

- Yeah.

Get out of my shot.

Sorry, man.

- Ah! Sh*t!

- Sh*t. Sorry.

What the hell's wrong with you?

You scared the sh*t out of me.

- Hey, you Billy Autrey?

- Beuter?

Sh*t, if I was that

p*ssy-whipped little b*tch,

I'd be on the phone

moping to my girlfriend. Why?

I'm just supposed

to be rooming with him.

"I'm just..." Oh, damn. Yeah.

Uh, well, sh*t, if you ever wanna find

Beuter, just follow the phone cord.

- This?

- Yeah, come on.

You're like a lost lamb.

Thanks.

What did I tell you?

Hey, Beuter, this your new roommate.

Damn, put some pants on, man.

- What's up, man?

- Hold on one second, babe.

Jake Bradford.

Jacob? Hey, how you doing?

I'm Billy Autrey.

- Good to meet you, man.

- Good to meet you.

- Dale Douglas.

- Jake Bradford.

Hey, man, what position do you play?

Pitcher.

Well, what are you?

Second base.

Hey, I'll see you later, man.

Okay, Jacob. Yeah, we'll see you, man.

Hey, ladies!

Happy hour is upon us at the Fox.

Two hours of drinking

before the team meeting.

- Let's go.

- That's what I'm talking about.

You guys go ahead, man.

I've got some unpacking to do.

Bullshit! You're on the team now, baby!

Onward,

upward and inward! Ja?

Oh, yeah!

Say hello, Finn.

Mmm-hmm, ooh,

look at what we have here.

Well, look at this

lovely bunch of ladies.

Let's say hi.

I think we should.

Tit-tit-tit-tit-tit-tits!

- F*** off, faggots!

- Yeah!

- That was beautiful.

- Oh!

I love this time of year.

Party later tonight

at the baseball houses.

Where?

15th and Avenue H.

You know,

just look for two beautiful houses

filled with Greek gods who care.

Okay, when?

When you get there.

And when you do get there,

ask for me, Kenny Roper.

We look forward to

seeing all of you there.

All of you.

There we go.

She looks like

my fifth grade teacher.

She's built right.

Hey, ladies, uh...

I don't know if you guys

are doing anything tonight,

but we'd like to invite you

to a baseball party with...

Sorry.

Uh...

Okay.

- Ouch!

- Not my fault she's a b*tch.

Jeez, ball hit the mitt

before you ever even swung.

And what was I

supposed to do, huh?

You gotta notice the clues, Rope.

There was a typewriter in the back.

- Oh, yeah.

- They're intelligent girls.

You have to rise

and meet them on their level.

Huh? Is that right?

Act like you've read

a book before. Jeez.

Okay, Finn, you're up.

- Well, I can't do any worse.

- Here we go.

Take notes, boys.

Excuse me, ladies.

You know, I couldn't help but

notice you ladies being hassled

by that a**hole in the car back there.

It's a shame.

You know, some guys

are just so aggressive.

Myself, I'm a firm supporter of the ERA...

Although I doubt it's gonna

have an immediate impact

on the societal norm of the male gender,

initiating virtually all contact

with respect to females.

You know, which might seem

predatory on the surface,

but I assure you...

Trust me.

You should be investing

this energy elsewhere.

Well, now you just

plain hurt our feelings.

Aww.

Do you also hate guys

that are athletic, intelligent,

sometimes endearingly clumsy,

or is that just her?

Hey, Finn, did you mention hung?

I didn't mention hung, Dale, not yet.

Okay, um...

Y'all wanna know the truth?

Always. It'll set you free.

I like the quiet guy in the back seat,

in the middle.

Well, there's nothing here.

Lesbians.

Yeah! Did you guys hear that?

- I didn't hear anything.

- Delusional.

- Freshman's hearing things.

- No, dude.

Quiet, non-a**hole guy

in the back, that's me.

Wait, no, guys.

Yeah, no, I think I heard

her say something like,

"The guy in the back,

whether he knows it or not,

- "is a cock jockey."

- Oh.

- Yeah, but I heard "cock gobbler."

- Cock gobbler.

I heard, "The guy in the back seat,

"his cock looks like an outie bellybutton."

Oh, yeah. Are we mistaken?

That's what we heard.

Yeah, I can see

how that could get threatening.

All right, new guy coming in,

getting all the ladies.

Hey there, freshman,

I've f***ed more girls

than you've cranked off to.

- Hey, do me a favor. Stop for a second.

- Why?

I wanna see what room she's in.

Just give it up, son.

This just went from "cute"

to "restraining order."

Just do it. I'll buy the first pitcher.

Okay. Now you're talking

our language a little.

All right,

what are we looking at? Let's see.

Okay. Stop, stop.

Okay, that's her.

Hey.

All right, 307. Help me remember that?

- Sure, man, 309.

- No, 307.

- 304.

- Can we go now, Mr. Stalker?

Weirdo, man.

30-12?

Damn. Hey.

- Huh? Yeah?

- That was pathetic, man.

She was using you, a peasant,

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