Spaceman Page #6

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You never know.

You know, I'm starting

tomorrow night's game,

thought maybe

you could bring the kids by,

watch their old man pitch again.

Oh, I don't know. You know,

they have so much homework.

It's tough during the week...

Well, I can pick 'em up

from school,

and I thought maybe

afterwards...

Maybe you and I could...

I really don't think

it's a good idea, bill.

They're just getting

used to the adjustment.

Maybe next time.

Look, if you really want

to spend more time with them,

Andy's been asking me all week if

you can come to one of his games.

He's pitching now.

They can bring their

homework to the ballpark,

all right, just, please.

Just bring 'em by.

Bill.

Yeah?

Good luck.

Thank god for my

buddies from Longueuil.

Because I probably would have

ended up just like Elvis...

Dead on the can

with my pants down

if they hadn't welcomed

me back to the ball club.

I knew this was a universe away from

even being in the minor leagues.

But at least it was baseball.

Well, sort of.

Hey, hey.

Whoa? Columbian?

Jamaican special blend.

And it ain't coffee.

Is this what I think it is?

Ganja resin straight from

the fields of Kingston, man.

Ooh...

Bullshit.

Only one way to find out.

You crazy, man? We have

a game in 20 minutes.

Perfect.

You're nuts, Lee.

Well, that very well

may be true, king.

Hey, you ever studied the Bible?

Maybe.

Well, it says that

on the sixth day

god created women, right?

Okay.

But on the seventh day,

he didn't rest.

He gave us this

wonderful game of baseball.

That's why there were so many

doubleheaders on Sundays, as a tribute.

But today, he gave us this

big old coffee can of ganja.

Man, I haven't gotten high

since college.

Sh*t makes me paranoid.

Come on, Joe.

Who are we even playing today?

Sorel, they suck.

So do we.

Right.

Hey, guys.

Come on, seriously, come on.

We have to loosen up.

It's depressing out there!

Thinking is like death, okay?

They call it "playing

the game" for a reason.

And we've all been played

this game since we were kids.

That's a long, long time,

especially for Larry over there.

Babe Ruth was Larry's bat boy,

that's how old Larry is.

And we all know

how to play this game.

Okay, maybe some of us play a

little bit better than others,

sorry Claude.

But it's just muscle memory,

that's all.

Just muscle memory.

What we're really looking

for here is freedom.

Isn't that why

we play this game?

To run out to that emerald

green field and just be free?

Hell, yeah!

Look, Joe over here

just wants to be free of his

naggy-ass wife for a few hours.

Isn't that right, Joe?

Pretty much.

Well, we're all looking

for freedom, boys.

Even if it's from our own minds.

Oh, yes. We do.

Today, boys,

we are going to free our

minds from our bodies

and let our instincts take over!

Today,

we are gonna pass the proverbial

peace pipe from man to man

and go out there, without

fear, into the sunshine

and just be free!

Now who's with me?

I'm gonna step into this office

and I'm gonna hot-box

that motherf***er.

Now, get in there.

Get in there! Get in there!

Come on, Joe.

Come on, Larry.

All right.

At the plate that day, I went seven

for eight with three home runs.

Every pitch thrown to me,

no matter how fast,

arrived at the plate like

a gentle little leaf.

I could literally count

the seams on the ball.

All I had to do was

catch it on the end of the bat

and serve it back

to the universe.

And in the outfield?

I felt no urgency whatsoever.

Take your time, Billy.

I'll wait for you to get

under me, my friend.

I love you.

But on the mound, that is

where I channeled the light.

I combined the sacrifice of Jesus

with the Patience of Buddha.

And then mixed in

the control of Sandy Koufax

just to get a little

Judaism in there.

I was Vishnu in

a polyester v-neck.

The batters tried to guess what

pitch I was thinking of throwing,

but they couldn't because

I'd ceased thought entirely.

With the magic beans keeping us

loose but percolating all season,

I'd led Longueuil

straight to the playoffs.

Forget about the chartered flights

and chauffeured team buses.

We drove ourselves to the games.

We played until it got too cold.

And then we played a bit more.

Of all the teams I'd been on,

this was...

Well, this was one of 'em.

And every game, I'd just hope

that my family would show up

even just once to watch me play.

Turns out that if I wanted to spend

quality time with my wife again

it would have to be in court.

Uh, Mr. Lee, despite the entertainment

value of your arguments,

this court hereby awards Mrs. Lee

full custody of the children.

What?

Full custody? Why?

Given the fact that you have rented your

basement to a known narcotics dealer...

this court herby forbids

any and all visitation

pending a visit from family

and children's services.

No visitation?

This court also awards Mrs. Lee the

duplex in Belmont, Massachusetts.

- The house in Bellingham, Washington.

- Jesus Christ!

Settle yourself, Mr. Lee.

We also awarded

Mrs. Lee the Jeep...

the BMW, all the furniture...

Yep. Sounds about right.

And the $150,000 remaining

in the joint bank account.

Great! Why don't you

just go ahead and take it all.

To Mr. Lee, we award

the Volkswagen Van with pop top.

It's a bus, not a Van.

The rifle collection,

the Salvador Dali paintings,

and the remaining

subscriptions to

field and stream

and weed magazine.

High times magazine.

Then we are finished here.

Wait, can you please tell me what

I need to do to see my kids?

Mr. Lee, we're done.

No, I'm not going anywhere

until you tell me what I

need to do to see my kids.

For starters, you need to rid

your house of criminals.

And you need to

find gainful employment.

Look I'm trying.

I've written letters to every goddamn

major league baseball team out there.

Mr. Lee.

You know, perhaps it's time for

you to find a new profession.

Thank you.

We're done.

Thank you, your honor.

Will you get

the next group ready?

No visitation, really?

I'm sorry.

All right, how about some guys, who

can actually hit and throw and catch?

Real baseball players.

Not just your friends.

Ooh, ooh, what about

Jimmy Lemond?

Mmm-mmm. No,

he works nights.

Uh, Louis Petit?

No, he, uh, bowling league.

Bowling?

Yep.

Bill, any suggestions?

Uh, I know Mike Schmidt.

Oh, he's your friend. You

think he may play with us?

No.

Uh, no.

No, thank you. Uh...

Yeah. Yeah.

Bill?

I got news!

All right.

Another round on me.

What is it, dick? Hey, you

comin' to the game on Sunday?

Uh, not likely.

I think that we may have found the proverbial

needle in the haystack, my friend.

Just got off the phone with

my buddy from San Francisco.

He owes me a favor.

And I have gotten you a tryout with San Fran

at their spring training facility in Phoenix.

When?

Uh, this Friday. There's

flights through New York.

Uh...

We've got a huge game

against new Brunswick on Sunday.

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