Everybody Wants Some Page #9

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Now, you accept your chumpification,

you wear it well, and you pass it on.

It's all you can do.

Well, well, well,

if it ain't Beuter Perkins! Hey!

Speaking of.

Hey, Beuter!

Beuter Perkins!

All right now, boys,

it's Billy Autrey, okay?

Did you give her

two solid inches, Beuter?

Hey, so, Pops, you pick out a name yet?

- No, sir. She got the rag.

- Aww!

Really? No f***ing way!

Hey, what's wrong with Jacob?

- Oh, you gotta see this.

- Yeah.

It's this physiological phenomenon.

You close your eyes,

and somebody places

their finger below the chest bone,

in the solar plexus,

it semi-paralyzes the whole torso.

Impossible to move.

- How about that?

- Hey, Beut, you gotta try this.

One of them old phenomegans, huh?

I can't. F***ing I can't.

I'll let you boys

deal with that hocus-pocus junk.

Isn't that how you always f***?

Rally back.

So, how'd it go

with the Beverly chick?

Yeah, man, you get it in?

She's cool, you know?

Went about as well as it could've.

Probably meeting up with her

at a party later tonight.

What? What party?

It's just something

for a bunch of performing arts majors.

You know, at someone's

house out of town.

Oh.

Everybody up!

Right arm cross.

All right, fellas,

who's gonna be the first poor f***

to take batting practice off Jay Niles

and his 95-mile-an-hour fastball?

The f*** is wrong with that guy?

I'm not doing it.

- He doesn't throw 95.

- No.

Get out of my way.

Hey, man, I'm doing it, huh?

What? Let's go!

Come on! What'd you say?

Guy's a f***ing loon.

Whoo!

Willoughby! Come over here.

Get all your stuff.

What the hell?

What's going on?

Well, boys,

here for a good time,

not a long time, right?

- What does that mean?

- I don't know.

Get your ass ready. Let's go.

- Oh, Jesus Christ, not this psychopath.

- Oh, sh*t.

Here you go, Plum.

This'll be interesting.

- What is that?

- What is he doing?

Did he just throw the ball

in the f***ing parking lot?

Yeah. There it goes.

- What the f***?

- Let's go!

- I'm ready. Get in the box.

- Jeez, let's not.

Go get him, kid.

Guy's gonna have a f***ing aneurysm

on the mound.

F***ing looney tune.

Yeah.

Oh, yeah!

Jesus f***ing Christ, damn it.

It's batting practice.

Hit it to me!

The ball's coming to me!

- Oh, yeah.

- F*** this. I'm done.

F*** this guy.

- F***ing nutjob. Ridiculous.

- You don't want any more?

All right.

F***ing batting practices.

Don't f*** it up, man. Let's go.

Yeah.

That's strike one.

- Hey, Detroit!

- Yeah?

Those f***ing goggles,

you can't use those to read?

The schedule says "batting practice."

Scrimmage is later. What the f***, man.

Yeah. All right, well, I'm not afraid

to get this over with

right here, right now.

Get what over?

I'm a f***ing pro prospect, too,

and you know it.

Oh.

I'm not afraid to challenge you, man.

And everybody else on this team.

And I'm not afraid to stick it in

and break it off from day one!

All right?

Okay, meat,

you wanna try to make

that starting rotation

on your first BP session, huh?

Be my guest.

Practice like you play, man.

Shut his f***ing mouth.

Whoo-hoo!

Yeah.

Good hit, McReynolds. Wow.

I think you've had enough, raw dog.

That the best sh*t you got?

That ain't close to touching 90, son.

Who you fooling?

Go get that ball,

I'll f***ing sign it for you.

Oh, yeah. Ha-ha-ha.

Real funny, man. Real funny.

You know, it's first day

of practice, all right?

- Just warming up.

- Mmm-hmm.

You know,

I will go get the f***ing ball.

You know what I'll do?

I'll shove it up your ass and I'll sign it!

How's that sound?

Yeah, hey, you know what,

do what you do best, Niles,

keep running that f***ing mouth,

'cause it makes you feel better, right?

You get your teammates

in a fight and kicked out

of a bar, 'cause you wanna

look f***ing tough?

You're f***ing selfish, man!

It's about the team here!

It's not about you! Go f*** yourself.

You know what, man?

I only know 150%, all right?

You want me on the mound!

You know I'm a f***ing

ballplayer, all right?

You don't get it!

F***!

Too f***ing philosophical for this sh*t.

F***ing balls.

F*** that sh*t.

- Yeah.

- Whoo!

Way to go! Run, run, run!

Hey, where's my helmet at?

It's the one with

the three scratches on the bill.

It's my good luck helmet.

You know what I'm talking about, Finn.

It's the one with

the three scratches on the bill.

There's five helmets right there.

Yeah, grab a helmet

and get in the box. Come on.

Hey, batter up!

Might as well put

a strikeout down in the books, fellas.

Why is the.230 hitter always

the most superstitious?

News flash, it's not working.

Get some new superstitions.

You got superstitions.

No, I have routines.

Big difference.

- No.

- Superstitions are

a holdover from primitive humans

finding simple reasons

for things they don't understand.

- Oh, yeah.

- Verifiably a complete waste

of mental capacity in this day and age.

I'm just saying, in a deterministic event,

such as hitting a baseball,

there actually is a strict

relation between cause and effect.

Now, superstition, it's bringing a...

A probabilistic framework

and projecting meaning

onto a completely random sequence.

Hmm.

Yeah!

See, we can deduce from that,

that the lucky helmet

was probably not the factor

in Coma's ability to get a hit

because he was just able

to do so without it.

The question now will be

if this new, random helmet

now becomes Coma's lucky helmet.

- Exactly.

- Whoo! Whoo!

What's happening, boys?

Attaboy, Dale.

Yes! Yes! Yes!

Hey, Coma, Pete Ward

just saw your first hit, man.

- Pete Ward's here? Yeah, baby.

- Oh, yeah.

Who's Pete Ward?

Legendary super scout for the Reds.

Master of disguise.

Yeah, yeah, he never wants

people to know he's watching,

so he'll disguise himself somehow.

Anybody spotted him?

Ah, give me a second.

Anybody? Come on. Finn?

- Finn, don't disappoint me.

- Give me a second.

Come on, it's right

in front of you, brother.

Out there past the right field fence,

painting the trim on the house.

- Whoo! Good spot, bro!

- Wow.

Thank you. Thank you.

Give me my adoration.

How's that for incentive?

First scrimmage game,

not even an official practice,

we already got

the scouts here checking us out.

Welcome to the big time, boys.

F***ing A, man.

That's what I'm talking about.

All right, boys, let's go!

- Hey, Bradford.

- Yeah.

- You warm?

- Yeah.

You're on the hill. Plum, you're catching.

- All right, go get 'em, Jake.

- Let's go, fellas.

You got it. Attaboy.

McReynolds.

Uh...

Good hit.

We're cool.

- Strike!

- Come on, Plum.

Man, that's strike three.

Come on, Plum, we're friends, man.

That's strike three. Dude, just sit down.

Friends don't strike out friends,

especially when we're freshman friends.

F***ing swing the bat, man.

You're making us look bad.

Just sit down.

You wanna rub

your strikeout on me, man? Jesus.

What's up, Mac?

Don't talk to me when I'm hitting.

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