Major League: Back to the Minors Page #7

This is real.

You can level with me, huh, Lenny?

Come on, where'd you get it?

- No, it is. it's real, see? It's mine.

- Come on.

It is. It's real, and it's mine.

See that? Ha ha ha! Ha ha! Dumbass.

I'll go tell the guys

they were wrong.

Well, the first pitch

has yet to be thrown,

and already Leonard Huff

is tearing his hair out.

And what a lovely head of hair it is.

That is, of course, assuming it's real.

And, frankly, I've

always had a question.

What style. What finesse.

Ha ha! What je ne sais quoi.

Which is Italian for

"what a hell of a play."

It's French, and it's

"je ne sais quoi".

Get out of here. It means the same thing

in French? Huh. What about that?

- Mon Dieu!

- God bless you.

Strike 2!

- Kid learned to throw a curveball, huh?

- Gee, I don't know. Was that a curveball?

I mean it's hard for me to tell

from way back here.

Carlos moves in a little closer, trying to

get a good look at Hog's mystery pitch.

- Otherwise known as a curve ball.

- Probably a curve ball.

Carlos is taking the plate

away from Hog.

The kid's afraid to

throw him inside.

All righty, Hog. Come on, buddy.

Hang tough now, let's go.

Ha ha! Let's go. Let's go, guys.

We need some more runs now.

Be a hitter up there! Be a hitter up there!

Hey, hey. Pitcher's got a rubber arm.

Hey, give me some pistachios.

You're outta there!

Well, the entire Lopez family scores,

and the Twins learn the hard way

you can't pitch around Anderson.

He's become a complete hitter.

All right, guys. Come on, come on, come on.

Let's go. I need some more runs. More runs.

You're outta there!

That's poetry. Pure poetry.

Poe, Wordsworth,

Barry Manilow, Maya Angelou,

this Buzz ballclub. What do they

all have in common? Poetry.

And I have to ask my colleague...

Have you ever seen a sunset more

beautiful than that play at the plate?

My colleague is speechless.

He's speechless.

Come on, let's go!

Hey, Twinkle toes,

go ahead and get a lead. Get a

lead, little bigger lead. That's it.

- Pitch Count. What's the pitch count?

- 97.

Jeez, you moron. Come on, you're

killing me! And you are not helping.

Give me an "L".

Give me an "A".

Give me an "N".

Give me an "C".

- Give me an "E". What have you got?

- Lance!

- What have you got?

- Lance!

Top of the ninth. Twins are leading 4-3.

and with 2 outs and a runner on second,

the big man, Carlos Liston,

comes to the plate.

Hey, Cantrell!

Scoreboard! Scoreboard!

Man, you must love

these Minor Leagues.

Come on, now! Come on, now!

Hit a one-ton tomato!

Foul ball!

That ball lands foul for a

very long strike one.

All right, Carlos. Pop one out, and I'll

give you all the tamales you can eat!

Keep it fair.

I better go talk to him.

Another long strike

and here comes Cantrell.

And I imagine he's

going to ask Hog Ellis

to keep some of these

strikes inside the park.

Hey. Got 2 strikes on him.

- They were beauties too, huh?

- He's crowding the plate a little bit.

Hog? You want to walk him

and pitch to the next batter?

No.

I want Carlos.

- I think it's time for a little chin music.

- You sure?

Yeah. When he hits the dirt, you get

the ball back to me quick as you can.

If he comes out,

I'll try to cut him off.

No, Pops, you stay put.

This is my fight.

He's gonna knock him down, boys.

He's gonna knock him down.

- All right, now, just hold on.

- Wait, wait, wait.

Now, this here is a

100-mile-an-hour fastball.

The most powerful fastball

known to man.

From this distance if it were to hit you,

it'd take your head clean off.

Of course, I could miss...

but my control has been pretty good today...

So you gotta ask yourself one question...

Do I feel lucky?

Well, do you, Carlos?

Play ball!

Strike 3, you're out!

This is bad.

Very bad. Not good.

That brings us to the

bottom of the ninth.

By the way, folks, Hog

Ellis is not a fighter.

That's for sure.

So I'm guessing he's appealed

to Liston's more humane side...

Begging for his life.

explaining we're all here

to enjoy the game...

Speak for yourself.

and there's no reason for

anyone to get angry or hurt.

Especially not Hog himself.

And let me say this...

if there is a sportsmanship award,

my vote goes to Hog Ellis.

And, oh, there's the other half of the

voodoo magic brothers, Taka Tanaka.

You're all nuts. You know that?

Every last one of you.

Well, it's an aura thing which

can only be appreciated by

those of an enlightened nature.

Yeah, it doesn't hurt

if you're a little tweaked upstairs.

And don't even try and tell me

you can see with that thing on.

Now Tanaka takes a couple of

practice cuts and steps up to the plate.

Taka drives one through the infield,

and the Buzz have another base hit.

Come on, you guys are killing me!

What are you looking at, huh?

What are you smirkin' at?

Are you smirking at me? What, is

this some kind of conspiracy?

You, I can't even look at you, you waste

of time. Hit the showers, you pig.

Thank you.

- What's up?

- You, uh, you want me to bunt?

...sacrifice Taka over and

get him into scoring position?

- I want you to go Downtown.

- Downtown?

I want you to hit the ball

into another zip code.

Yes, sir.

- Is he gonna sacrifice?

- I told him to swing for the fence.

- You did what?

- You heard me.

You never tell a hitter

to swing for the fence.

I couldn't help myself.

Strike!

Come on, buddy.

Hang in there.

Good try, buddy. Good try.

You can do this. You can

do this. You can do this.

It's gone.

It's gone!

That is it. That is all she wrote.

The fat lady is on

her way to the field.

What a perfect end

to a fantastic season.

- Hey, let's be friends.

- No.

Come on. Give

me a little hug.

- No! No.

- Come on.

- No! Stay away!

- One little hug.

I'm a married man, you know.

Aw, come on, at least let me

carry you downstairs.

That's it. It's over.

I'm not a Pirate, I'm not a Yankee,

I'm not even a Red Sock.

I am a damn Buzz.

Thank you.

Bumblebee. Yeah,

that's what I am, a Buzz.

As far as I'm concerned,

a deal's a deal.

Besides, I know how long you've

waited to get to the Major Leagues,

and I know... that it

has been a lifelong dream.

Boy, I never thought I'd say this,

but... I'm gonna have to pass.

I'm talkin' about a job with

the Twins here, Gus.

I got a lot of information I'd like to

pass on to young ballplayers.

That's where I belong,

and that's what I want to do.

You want to manage

a Minor League team?

That's right.

I wanna stick with the Buzz,

if it's, uh, ok with you.

Of course, but...

But, uh... thanks.

Attention please. Flight 63 to Miami

is now boarding at gate 28.

Oh, that's us.

Wait a minute. Where

are you guys goin'?

It's called a honeymoon.

Hey, that's great.

Congratulations.

Hey, I don't have any plans.

You mind if I come along?

Yeah, we do.

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