The Greatest Game Ever Played Page #4

- You're in second place.

- I am?

President Taft is talking

about you. President Taft.

Isn't it incredible?

OK, we're working here, buddy.

Don't listen to him.

We play our game, let those

guys worry about theirs.

I'm tied...

[Frank echoing] You're tied

with Vardon. You're in second place.

[laughter]

[breathing heavily] Oh, God.

- [leaves rustle]

- [crowd groans]

Thanks for nothin'.

We gotta settle down now, Francis.

Oh, yeah?

How are we gonna do that?

You're just gonna

have to play better.

Keep your head down.

- [crowd cheers]

- [applause]

Whew.

All right, gimme the mashie.

You're not gonna

reach with that.

If he can, I can.

[grunts]

- [crowd groans]

- [applause]

[crowd cheers]

[Bernard] In round two,

Harry Vardon's pulled even

with the defending champion,

John McDermott,

but Mr. Wilfred Reid

is matching him shot for shot.

After a poor showing

this morning,

Ted Ray's stalking the grounds

like a mad brute.

He... Mad brute.

He may yet have something

to say about this championship.

[man] Quiet.

[man] Go, go, go, go!

[woman] Get in there.

[crowd cheers]

Blimey.

They're easily entertained.

I'm counting on you, old boy,

if Vardon and that great ape

of his can't deliver.

Quite. All for England.

Save that patriotic gibberish

for the newspapers.

The prime minister has promised me

a seat in his cabinet

if I bring back this trophy.

And rest assured, Wilfred,

you will be remembered.

Ah. Bravo, Harry.

You're tied with me for the lead.

- Very well played, sir.

- All for King and country, what?

Wilfred played splendidly,

more than can be said for your man Ray.

Wild as a Hottentot.

After his appalling first round,

he won't survive the cut.

- [crowd cheers]

- [applause]

What on earth are they

going on about?

Ted Ray's just broken

the course scoring record.

By Jove,

Ray's tied for second!

[reporter 1] Mr. Ouimet?

One question, sir!

Francis!

Hey! I thought you'd

gone back to college!

- I thought you quit playing!

- I guess I changed my mind, huh?

- That's wonderful!

- Yeah.

It's great to see you.

Can you come tomorrow?

- I have to leave tomorrow!

- Come back tomorrow!

Are you his caddie?

Give this to him, would you?

For luck.

Dames. Who needs 'em?

Fine play today, Mr. Ouimet.

Thank you, sir. You too.

It's mostly dumb luck, though.

On my part.

Not on your part.

You don't need luck.

I need luck.

Well, good luck, then.

Thank you, sir.

I cleaned 'em good.

Wiped the grips too.

You did just fine

out there today.

You too, Francis.

You gonna be able to skip

school again tomorrow?

Let 'em try and stop me.

[chuckles] All right,

well, you get home safe.

Hey, don't you worry about me.

I'll meet you right here.

Early bird gets the worm.

Deal.

[classical music]

[indistinct chatter]

All I can say, ladies,

is that when the day began,

I scarcely imagined

that I'd find myself

tied for the lead with

the immortal Harry Vardon,

and two strokes ahead of

the ever-so-capable Ted Ray.

Ah. Speak of the devil,

and up he pops.

Excuse me, ladies.

I'll be with you presently.

I simply adore Americans.

The exuberance,

such charming naivete.

How do you find them, Ted?

I should imagine

you feel right at home.

They clasp all manner of the huddled,

yearning masses to their bosoms.

Even the lowly golf professional.

You know, I can foresee a day,

given their democratic standards,

when they invite your kind

into their clubhouses.

[chuckles] Well,

how could they resist?

Two poor lads from Jersey,

up from nothing.

Working-class heroes

to the great unwashed.

When all Jersey's ever given us

are potatoes and dairy cows...

[grunts]

[man] Don't look over there.

Sorry, Harry.

I couldn't contain myself.

Neither could he.

He shouldn't have

brought Jersey into it.

My God. My nose.

Do I look all right?

Quite frankly, Mr. Reid,

it's an improvement.

[girl] So, did you really

see the President?

He waved at me.

- [laughs]

- No.

- Yes, he did. President Taft.

- Can you believe Francis?

Why don't I sleep

downstairs tonight?

No. You sleep upstairs.

- You'll need your sleep for tomorrow.

- I'm OK.

Oh! Arthur.

So, they call you Mr. Ouimet.

The others,

it just says their names.

Well, Father,

they're professionals.

I'm an amateur.

Let's have some dessert.

No, wait, wait. Sit, sit.

They're all talking

about you now.

It say here that if you win,

you get no money.

The others make money,

you get nothing.

What does that prove?

What does that prove?

They don't even pay you!

What kind of work is that?

- [mother] Arthur.

- What?

[mother] I'll fix you a plate.

[thunder rumbles]

[horse whinnies]

Come on, you! Pull!

[Ted] Morning, Harry.

Dreadful English weather.

- How'd you sleep?

- Like a baby.

Woke up every two hours and cried.

Hey, Francis!

I had a dream last night

that you shot a 72!

Yeah? It won't be easy

in a nor'easter.

You've played this course

in weather like this.

You're right.

It's a good day for a 72.

[Eddie] Okeydokey,

pipe and smokey.

If the Brits beat us, they'll say

it was a fluke I ever won it.

They'll say it's their game,

and we're not good enough.

This is our Open.

- [crowd cheers]

- [gasps]

Yes. Marvelous.

Ouimet. Ouimet.

O-U-l-M-E-T.

He's only one stroke behind Vardon

and Ray after three rounds.

[man] Move it!

Put your backs into it now!

Go a little deeper there!

There we go.

[man in distance]

Not here. Over there.

Watch that end go through!

- And move on down!

- Yes, sir!

Thank you.

Ray needs that putt

for the lead.

I don't want to hear how

anyone else is doing.

- We play our own game.

- [crowd cheers]

Where do we stand?

You'd still have to par the last

five holes to tie Ted for the lead.

Dreadful conditions, Harry.

No one would blame you

if you came...

Thank you, Bernard.

[crowd groans]

He's done for in there.

No chance he catches him now.

[crowd] Whoa!

What's got into you, old thing?

You had to go

and get me angry.

Oh, yes. My mistake.

When I par this one,

we'll have to go at it

again tomorrow.

A playoff? What a bother.

Yes, but there it is.

Never seen you smoke

on the job before.

Should've started

four holes earlier.

[grunts]

[Northcliffe]

Ah, all square again.

Not a chance

this stripling bears up.

Probably not.

[Eddie] Let 'em look.

We're tied, and you're

the one still playing.

[crowd groans]

[light applause]

Might as well get out of this

beastly New England weather

and raise a glass

to British victory.

What's that carrying

his bag, a Pygmy?

[Ouimet] We need two strokes.

One here, one at the 16th...

Francis, don't think so much.

You can't play 'em all at once.

You gotta take 'em

one at a time.

One at a time, two down.

Two down, six to play.

I can get one here

and another on 16.

That girl wanted me

to give you this.

- What girl?

- Sarah.

Sarah gave you this?

Just put it on.

Don't get all sloppy over it.

To England.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes