Major League II Page #7

You used to be

this team's toughest guy.

Now you're trying

to prop yourself up

with the right woman

or shrink.

You want to be

a major league pitcher?

You have to find

something in yourself

that's yours

and nobody else's.

You had that once, Rick.

If were you,

I'd spend the rest of the night

trying to find it.

Without it, you're no good

to me or the team.

What an a**hole.

What an amazing a**hole.

I thought

he was my friend.

Why is everybody

so threatened

by me improving myself?

What an a**hole.

Hey, you're looking good, Lou.

Forget about me.

I'm fine.

You gotta

talk to the team,Jake.

Give 'em hell. Let 'em know they're

too good to roll over and play dead.

Will do, Skip. And, hey,

we'll win this one for you.

Hey, Taylor!

Promise me one thing.

- Sure. What?

- When you talk to the team

don't give 'em

one of them corny

"Let's win one for Lou"

speeches.

I couldn't stand that.

Yeah. Promise.

Give 'em hell tonight,

Schoupie.

Look alive there, Pedro.

Rube, give this catalog a try.

I think you'll

like the writing.

Thanks.

"Frederick's

of Hollywood?"

Alright, everybody,

listen up.

I didn't want to have

to tell you this, but...

Lou's goin' under

the knife tomorrow.

Yeah.

He's not doin' so good.

Doctor told me

he might not make it at all.

As a matter of fact,

there's a good chance

that this game tonight might be

his last experience on this earth.

He had a hard time talking.

But he did say this...

win this one for me.

I might as well have

a little taste o fheaven now

just in case

I'm not headed there.

Hell! When a man's

lights are about to go out

the fat lady can't sing

if it's not over!

Come on!

Let's go.

You okay, Pedro?

That was beautiful, man.

It made me realize that there are

more important things than baseball.

I love you, man.

Oh, no.

How you doing, everybody?

Harry Doyle here welcoming all you

fanatic featherheads

to the American League

Championship Series,

where, tonight, the comeback kids

of the Cuyahoga

will begin their quest

to earn a World Series berth

for the first time

since 1954.

Out to spoil the fun are those

Pale Hosers from the Windy City,

who squeaked by the Tribe

a year ago in the playoffs

and lucked out again

in the World Series.

What else can you say

about these White Sox except...

at least

they're not from Canada.

After tonight, we'll be going to

the World Series.

Yeah, in Chicago.

Schoup ready

for the opening pitch now.

Winds and fires to Termini.

He swung and missed,

and we're underway.

Oh, no.

Baker threw the ball

to third.

I guess he felt Wilcox

didn't get enough infield practice.

Anyway...

Schoup ready again.

Winds and comes to Termini.

High, and the count

is even at 1 and 1.

Son, you throw that ball

down there again, with nobody on,

you're going to make me

very unhappy.

"The tulip lace bra

has ruffled underwired cups,

creating a curvier you,

for evening's bare neckline. "

Whoo!

Yeah!

So Baker finally gets one

back to the pitcher.

"Matching crocheted panties

are also available. "

Bottom of the 1st,

2 down, Dowling in scoring

position at second.

Bucek comes set,

fires to Cerrano.

Swung on and popped up,

and that'll do it.

Bottom of the 3rd,

still nothing-nothing.

Tanaka at the plate

as Baker leads away from second.

Bucek into the stretch,

delivers.

Tanaka swings

and lines a base hit

to left field.

Baker around third.

They're waving him home.

Get down!

Baker dives!

Oh, shoot.

He scores!

And the Indians lead

1to nothing.

Oh, shut up!

It's only one run.

Top of the 4th.

Parkman leads

away from first,

Beck from second.

Schoup comes to the stretch.

Delivers to Shaw.

There's a swing and a drive

to deep right field.

It's off the fence.

Cerrano up with it.

Beck scores.

Here comes Parkman

around third.

The relay from Miller.

They've got Parkman nailed.

The ball comes loose,

and the White Sox

take the lead, 2-1.

Welcome to

the big leagues, hayseed.

Don't stand on the tracks

when the train's coming through.

Bottom of the 4th.

Cerrano swings

and strikes out again.

That's a good pitch.

Top of the 5th,

Sox threatening again here.

Bases loaded,

2 outs, 3 and 2 on Dawson.

Schoup has to throw a strike.

The runners will be moving

on the pitch.

Here it is.

And Dawson drives one to deep center.

This is trouble.

Way back toward the wall.

Hayes racing.

Still going.

He's got it!

Not this time!

And the Indians

dodge a 3-run bullet.

What a catch by Hayes.

2 down, bottom of the 5th,

2 and 1 on Hayes,

trying to pick up

Miller from third.

Hey, Black Hammer,

read some of your reviews.

One guy said Willie Mays Hayes

couldn't play dead.

Bucek, the big Chicago

left-hander,

winds, fires...

High. Ball 3 to Hayes.

He also said

the stunts were a joke.

You do your own stunts,

orwere you afraid

of getting hurt?

If get

the chance to score,

we'll see who's afraid.

I don't intend to slide.

You don't?

You better, little man.

Just 'cause your movie bombed

doesn't mean you have

to commit suicide.

Hayes waits for

the 3-0 delivery.

Low. Ball 4.

I'll be home soon,

honey.

I'll be waiting,

sweetheart.

So Bucekwalks Hayes,

putting runners at the corners

as Baker comes

to the plate

with the Indians

still trailing 2-1.

Some little sheep back home probably

misses ya, huh, Rube?

The runners

take their leads.

Bucek checks,

comes to the plate,

Baker swings

and lines a drive

to the left field corner.

It's off the wall.

Belmonti up with it.

Miller scores.

Hayes flying around third.

Here comes the throw.

Come on! Aah!

Sucker!

Hayes scores!

And the Indians

lead 3-2.

I told you

I wasn't gonna slide.

You got a long way

to go, Peckerhead.

That's Mr. Peckerhead

to you, pal. Ah!

Yeah, baby.

Aha! Now we're starting

to roll, boys!

Are you alright?

Oh, yeah.

I love this British stuff.

General Spenser-Ewell was a patient

of your Uncle Richard's.

Arthur and I dined...

T op of the 7th,

3-2 I ndians.

The White Sox have runners

at the corners.

Schoup is 2 and 1

to Parkman.

Parkman doing

his little shimmy.

It makes the women

here in Cleveland puke.

One more, Schoup!

Schoup delivers...

Parkman swings

and hammers a long drive

to deep left center field.

Back goes Hayes.

It's gone.

Damn.

Yes! Yes!

Parkman, you stud!

Parkman puts the Sox

back on top, 5-3.

You scumbag bum!

Sit down!

See? I told ya.

Bring out the tarp.

Cover the field.

I can't watch this anymore.

It's over.

Turn the lights out.

Bring in the bulldozers.

Turn this place

into a parking lot.

That his

elderlymother...

This is tragic stuff.

Bottom of the 8th, 2 down,

Campbell at first.

The Indians trailing by 2,

down to their last

four outs.

Taylor's got to get

something done here,

or he'll have the bottom

of the order in the 9th.

Dorn.

Yeah?

Didn't this guy used

to pitch you inside?

Yeah.

Get a bat

and step into one.

What?

Let him hit you

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