Major League: Back to the Minors Page #4

...you're just going to have to

trust me on this...

- You don't know what you're talking about.

- Is that so?

This might be a good time

to get the check.

Yeah, that most definitely is so.

See, let me explain, ok?

There are 2 kinds of baseball, right?

There's big league...

and then there's little league.

And you, my friend...

you are in the latter.

That smells a little bit

like a challenge.

Well if you're foolhardy enough

to take it as one, yeah, it is.

Any hour, any day, any week, my guys

will be on the field ready to go.

Waiter?

You would actually step onto

the same field as my Twins?

- Is there an echo in this room?

- Let me tell you something.

- Don't poke me.

- If you had the first idea...

I said don't poke me.

In fact, if you had any idea of what...

I told you not to poke me,

you loudmouth moron!

You're breaking my finger!

One minute, you're telling me about

the new, improved, responsible Gus Cantrell

And the next thing I know you're

rolling across a barroom floor

punching, kicking and biting.

I didn't bite him.

Besides, it wasn't my fault.

- It wasn't your fault?

- No. Huff asked me to hit him.

That's funny. I don't remember hearing

him request a punch in the nose.

It's, like, a secret guy language.

When somebody pokes you with

their finger more than once,

they're saying,

"come on and hit me."

"A secret guy language".

I mean, I knew about the handshake

and the decoder ring,

but the "language" thing

is new to me.

Hello?

Yeah, he's right here.

It's Roger.

Listen, Rog, I'm really sorry...

Right now?

Okay.

Okay.

On my way.

Good morning, Sir Guv'ner.

Follow me, please.

No, that sounds great.

I think that'll work out great.

- Behind you all the way, sir.

- Thank you.

I'll tell him you said that.

- Ok, gotta go. Talk to ya. Bye-bye.

- Are you out of your mind?

You know, you are the fifth person

this morning to ask me that question.

We can't play the Twins.

We're a Minor League club.

You said 9 players

playing together...

I know what I said, damn it.

Don't throw it back at me.

- You don't believe it?

- Well, of course I believe it. It's...

- Coffee, sir?

- Yeah.

Um, I just wanted to say that, uh,

on behalf of the entire restaurant staff:

Go Buzz. Kick ass.

Thanks.

By the way, that was Huff

on the phone just now.

He thinks you're

going to back out.

He said that?

Yeah. Blowin' smoke out of your butt.

Those were his words.

"Gutless"? I think he said "gutless".

He... I forgot how he used it.

"Big Twins vs. Little Twins."

Sounds like a good way to put

some butts in the seats, huh?

Do you really think selling tickets

is my sole motivation?

Ok, maybe it is, but nevertheless,

It's great opportunity for your boys

to see The Show up close, personal.

Gus, come on.

It's... it's dicey.

Why don't you ask your team

what they wanna do?

- Huff's finger broken?

- Fractured.

Give me 24 hours.

Let me talk to my team.

You're the man.

Hello?

Yeah, it's for real.

- It's been a while.

- Well, one thing never changes.

- What's that?

- Butterflies.

What a decade to quit drinking.

Like I said before,

the charges were dropped.

What about your alleged quote:

"Carlos Liston is so big,

he's becoming a religion"?

Yeah, honey, I said it.

You got a problem with it?

What exactly does it mean?

It means that people

think of Carlos Liston.

Carlos is on the

minds of people.

They wish to pay him respect because

they know him to be a superior man.

Does anyone besides Carlos Liston

worship at the shrine of Carlos Liston?

Or is it a one-man congregation?

Thou shall not make fun of Carlos,

or thou will get thou's ass whipped.

Carlos Liston, resident madman

and cleanup hitter.

I have to pitch to him?

Yeah, just remember one thing.

Carlos is a little bit like a mad dog.

Mad dog?

If he smells fear,

he goes into attack mode.

- So no matter what you do...

- ...don't let him know that you are scared.

- I gotta use the bathroom.

- Use the mound. Stake out your territory.

Gentlemen...

This is not a should-win or

want-to-win situation.

This is every 8-year-old's dream. Playing

a big league game in a big league park.

This is a must-win situation!

Play as well as you can.

I want you

to humiliate, brutalize!

Don't force. Don't push, huh?

Beat them into submission!

Let's stay loose.

Let's have some fun.

Come on, guys.

What do you say?

He struck him out swinging and the

Hawkster is bringing the heat,

throwin' gas, tossin' aspirins,

blowin' smoke, zingin' BBs,

firing missiles, zipping darts,

threading the needle.

Let's see if my colleague in the booth

here has anything to add.

Nope, guess not.

Throw! Make your throw!

Taka slides safely into first base.

"Beautiful and daring"... the

only words to describe that play.

Wouldn't you say

"beautiful and daring"?

Well, my colleague,

a little bashful, concurs.

And this buzz team has come to play ball.

There's no bout-a-doubt it.

Aw, that a baby.

Mine! Mine!

Keep it up! Keep it up!

Nice, nice, nice. Love to your mother.

Hey, hey, Gussy. Whoo!

Who the man now? Who the man?

Adams broke up

the double play.

Could have been called for

unnecessary roughness on that one.

And that brings Carlos

Liston to the plate.

He's been crowding the plate,

forcing you to throw into his power.

You better give him

a little chin music.

You want me to

throw at Carlos Liston?

He'll hate you tonight, but

he'll respect you in the morning.

What do I do if he

comes out here after me?

Just...

Climbing the center field wall

wouldn't be a bad idea.

Just calming the kid down. Probably telling

him to keep the ball down and away.

Liston's getting up.

He doesn't appear to be hurt.

And he doesn't appear to be happy.

Oh, right now would be a good time

to get Hog measured for a casket.

What's up?

Now, I know you ain't

throwing at Carlos Liston,

cause anyone dumb enough

to throw at Carlos

wouldn't be smart enough

to find their way to the park.

And you're here,

so you ain't that dumb.

I think there was a little

moisture on the ball,

and it slipped

out of my hand.

- Moisture?

- Dew. A little dew.

Yeah, well, you get that close

to Mr. Liston again,

dew or no dew,

and I'll come back out here and

beat you into the ground with that bat.

You got that?

Yes, sir. Yeah, I got it.

It's no problem.

There's a routine fly ball

hit to left field.

Oh, the wind's got this baby.

Takin' it back toward the wall...

the wind's gonna carry this one

over the fence for a home run.

I might point out that

there is no wind.

We're in a dome.

An enclosed environment.

There's no rain either,

in case you were wondering.

Oh, well, excuse me for

having an opinion, pal.

- Hey, what's that over there?

- Where?

You did that on purpose.

- Oh, my!

- My notes. My scorecard.

- It was a complete accident. I'm... I'm...

- My pants...

Here, here, here's a 20.

Get yourself another suit.

Some people say Downtown

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