Major League II Page #3

in the weeds.

Vaughn, he's off

to a slow start,

but look out.

They're going to erupt.

They're gonna bust loose.

They're gonna do it.

They're gonna bust loose.

They're a powder keg.

Juggernaut.

Getting close now,

as the Indians begin

their drive

for a world championship

against the hated

Chicago White Sox,

who swept the Tribe

right out of

the playoffs lastyear.

And listen to the roar

of the crowd

as the Indians

take the field.

Mow 'em down,

Wild Thing!

Did you ever have

that feeling

you were just born

for greatness?

RickVaughn

gets the starting call today.

We're told he matured

a lot over the winter.

Apparently,

he's bathing now.

Congratulations, Rick.

As you know, Monte, Vaughn's been

working on a couple of new pitches-

The Eliminator

and The Humiliator-

to complement his fastball,

The Terminator.

I heard that.

Dynamite drop-in,

Monte.

That broadcast school

has really paid off.

We're ready for the opening pitch.

Vaughn winds and fires.

It's a strike.

And we're underway.

Alright, Rickey!

Good job. Great pitch, man.

Great pitch.

Do it again!

Come on. Let's see it.

Guywas toast.

Yeah?

Vaugh winds

for the 0-2 pitch.

Called strike 3!

Called strike 6!

Called strike 9!

Inning over!

Yeah!

Alright!

Break out

the champagne!

It's in the bag.

The fat lady has

left the building!

So Vaughn sets down

the White Sox

in the top of the first.

Willie Mays Hayes

steps in.

Hayes had a great spring,

adding the long ball

to his speed.

Now batting... double 0-

Willie Mays Hayes.

Willie swinging

his shillelagh at the plate.

And Hayes

is calling his shot!

He's pointing toward

the left field bleachers.

Alright, Willie!

Right here, Willie!

What's he pointing at?

What? Does he know

someone up there?

Hayes ready

at the plate!

Alaino into his windup

and the pitch.

Here's a swing and a drive

to left and deep.

Way back... Belmonti racing

toward the wall.

This one has a chance.

It's going... going...

not quite gone.

Heh heh.

That had to be the wind.

It must've been the wind.

Top of the 3rd now.

Vaughn's been in trouble

a couple of times,

but has held

the White Sox

with his new assortment

of breaking stuff.

Humiliator lined to left,

a base hit.

Eliminator lined to right,

another base hit.

There's some real puss

lined to center.

Termini's

coming around third.

The throw

is cut off.

He'll score.

And it's 1-0,

White Sox.

What?

What?

They're hammering

this slow crap.

Think your arm

could stand the strain

of throwing this guy

a fastball?

Look, I'll throw it.

You just make sure you catch it.

I will if

it ever gets to me.

God knows what Vaughn's

going to throw next.

He's running out of names.

That'll bring up

Hank Shaw,

who led the Sox in home runs

and RBIs lastyear.

I don't know how this guy keeps

his mind on baseball,

what, with all

the paternity suits and all.

I think those are

parking tickets.

Yeah.

Vaughn has his

sign and comes set,

checks the runner

at second.

Here's the pitch

to Shaw.

Swung on and belted

into deep right field.

Back goes Cerrano.

He'll need a rocket up his ass

to catch this one.

That baby is out of here.

- Yeah!

- Yeah!

That looked like

The Terminator, only slower.

Maybe it was

his Out-Of-Stater,

or it could've been

The Hibernator.

That baby is definitely

going away for the winter.

Whatever forVaughn,

it might be

see-you-later.

He's probably going

to become a... spectator.

Didn't have much

on that one.

4-0, Chicago.

Hayes at the plate.

And he's calling it again!

Come on, Willie!

This time for sure!

Aw, forget that!

Put the ball on the ground!

Alaino looking

in for the sign

and goes into

his windup.

Here's the swing

and a drive to deep left.

It could go this time!

Yes! Yes!

Belmonti back

to the wall again. Way back!

Come on!

Come to papa!

And it is...

Come to papa!

Caught!

You were lucky, Belmonti!

Of course, he could be pointing

at the left fielder.

Bottom of the 6th. Jack Parkman

stepping in with runners at the corners.

Parkman with two hits

already today.

Martinez leads away

from first,

Warren from third.

Parkman doing

his little shimmy.

It drives the women here

in Cleveland crazy.

Vargas, the little left-hander,

set at the belt.

Here's the pitch.

Parkman swings and drives

one to deep left center.

It looks like

he got it all!

It is good-bye,

Mr. Rawlings!

And the Indians

pull to within 1 at 4-3.

Way to go,Jack!

I bought him.

Welcome

to NewJack City!

I told you this guy

would make a difference.

- Jacksonville!

- Jack the Ripper!

- Jumpin'Jack Flash!

- Jack attack!

I used to hate Parkman

when he was with the A's.

It's amazing how a new uniform

can change your attitude about a guy.

He's still a Dick.

Last of the 9th.

2 outs and a tying run

at first,

and Pedro Cerrano

steps into the box.

Cerrano hitless today

and pretty much

all spring.

Martinez takes his lead

from first again.

Here's the pitch.

Cerrano swings, and it's a high fly ball

to center field.

And it hits a bird!

The ball drops

into right,

the bird

into short center.

Cerrano rounds first

and heads for...

center field?

Where are you going?

Cerrano kill

a living thing.

Forget the damn bird!

Run! Run!

He's alive. Ha ha!

Martinez around third,

heading for home,

and so is the bird.

Bye-bye, birdie.

I'm sorry,

but you're out, Mr. Gandhi.

Too late! Run doesn't score!

Ballgame's over!

What?

Cerrano, come on!

Well, the Indians

drop a tough one.

4-3, as Pedro Cerrano

doubles off a pigeon

and then is tagged out,

administering CPR

before the tying run

could score.

It's a funny game,

eh, Monte?

Well, at least

the bird survived.

Who cares?

It's a rat with wings.

Two months.

Two months?

What do you mean

two months?

You have enough money to run

the team for two months.

You paid too much

for the franchise.

There's another four

months in the season.

What am I supposed to do?

Increase your profits

any way you can.

Well, fans, Roger Dorn

has done a little redecorating

around the ballpark.

The outfield walls now

look like the Yellow Pages.

And any of you folks having trouble

finding a good proctologist

might want to come down here

and check out the area

around

the 375-foot sign.

As for the game,

we got a real nail-biter

here tonight.

It's a lot closer

than that 11-2 score.

Mr. Vaughn! I thought

you were starting tonight.

- I did.

- Oh. sorry.

I didn't turn it on

till the second inning.

I can't believe

you're so upset

about what

the valet said.

I'm upset

because Billy Ritter

hit a 3-run homer

off me.

He was due.

I mean, it's amazing.

The man has been in the majors

for seven years,

and he's never

hit a home run.

Never?

I thought you knew.

Oh.

May be you should throw fastballs

more often

till you're sure of

your other pitches.

I did that tonight.

I threw Ritter

an 87 mile-an-hour fastball,

and he crushed it.

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