The Longest Yard Page #2

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Hey, Superstar.

Get a good night's sleep?

Too bad you missed breakfast.

It was yummy.

Gotta get it done.

This is make-work day.

- What's make-work day?

You shovel it in and shovel back out again.

Hustle in there now.

Cover that bank.

Get that wheelbarrow, Woody.

Let's go. Single file.

Hang it up, hang it up.

Let's get covered.

All right, let's go. Come on.

Get a shovel.

Hey, Superstar.

I got an idea. Granny.

You ever work with a n*gger before?

Get another shovel there, boy.

All right. Let's go.

Heave it up.

Sitting down, boss?

- Not today, boy.

Wiping off, boss?

- Not today, boy.

Rolling one, boss?

- Not yet, boy.

Now you know how black man's work feels.

How do you like it?

Oh, it sort of grows on you.

No talking there, Granny.

Yes, boss.

- You'll find yourselves in bad time.

Yes, boss. Sorry about that, boss.

What's he think this is, good time?

Looky, looky, looky,

here comes cooky.

Big deal. Look at him now.

How do you like them apples,

Superstar?

Move the line.

Real friendly types you got around here.

Might be your own fault.

- Oh, really?

Most of these old boys have nothing.

Never had nothing to start with.

But you, you had it all.

Then you let your team-mates down,

got caught taking bribes.

I did, did I?

- I ain't saying either way.

I'm just saying

you could've robbed banks, sold dope,

stole your grandmother's pension,

and none of us would've minded.

But shaving points off a football game,

that's un-American.

You take football real serious down here.

Mind if I ask you one question?

- Yeah, I do.

Why'd you do it?

It's a long story.

- Well, I got eight years.

Oh, my God.

What the hell is that?

That's a member

of the warden's football team.

Some of these guards are not

just everyday run-of-the-mill guards.

Crewe. Granville. Front and centre.

What now?

That means we don't get

to finish this delicious lunch.

What's he looking for?

Snakes.

Snakes?

- Yeah.

Take five.

Rolling one, boss?

- Not today, boy.

Jeez.

Terrific.

- Football f*ggot.

Salt pill up here, boss?

- Go get it, boy.

How long you been in this asylum,

Pop?

Thirty-four years.

Thirty-four years?

- Yep.

Last six and a half right here in the swamp.

Too old for reclamation,

so they made me barracks chief.

Aren't you coming up for parole soon?

Thirty years ago, I made the mistake

of slugging a fish bull. Hazen.

Just my luck he made warden.

Sent me out here when I was 64 to die,

but I've been hanging on.

We'll all be in the same place a thousand

years from now, so what the hell.

Yeah. What the hell.

All right, you a**holes.

Back to work.

Hey.

This ain't no country club, Superstar.

Move your ass.

No, no, son.

You've got to get off the bunk.

Man, for God's sake, get up.

On your feet.

Listen to me. Nobody's allowed on

the bunks till five minutes before lights out.

They'll put you in the oven.

Man, that can kill you.

Did you have any supper yet?

No.

Later I'll try to get you some chow.

You got to eat, man,

or you'll die of mono.

And they could care less.

Get off me.

- Hey, watch it, man.

Where the hell you going?

Twinkle, twinkle, little Superstar.

Guard.

- Yeah?

I want to see the warden.

Pass the salt.

Boy.

Come on.

Go, baby.

That's going to get you

twenty-four hours in the hot box, boy.

I quit.

What makes you so tough?

I don't know. It just comes natural.

That'll cost you, boy.

Rise and shine.

Rise and shine.

Oh. It's room service.

Pretty gamey.

Shower and put on some clean whites.

The warden wants to see you.

The warden?

- Get on down there.

Well?

What do you think of my team?

- Mean.

Crude, but mean.

I was depending on you, you know.

Well, there's so little time left now,

it's quite a problem.

They need something

before that first game.

You have to win the first game?

- Right.

Well, it's relatively simple.

Yeah. Get yourself a tune-up game,

you know?

A what?

A tune-up game, like the pros have,

with a hungry team not in your league.

You bring them here

and kick the sh*t out of them.

Well.

How do you think

we'd do against the pros?

That team against the pros?

- Yeah.

You'd have a real problem.

Well, how do you think

we'd do against the cons?

I didn't know they had a team.

- They don't.

But you've given me an inspiration.

I've decided, Mister Crewe, that

you're going to put one together for me.

For that little tune-up game, you know?

And you're going to play quarterback.

I can't.

Why? They're semi-pro,

you said yourself. A big joke.

That's why people like me around,

my sense of humour.

Mister Crewe,

as old Mister Sam used to say,

'In this institution,

to get along, you go along'.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

I'm just going to do what's left

of my eighteen months quietly,

and I'm out of here.

Oh, yes. Eighteen months.

But that is to make parole.

That was before you struck

Captain Knauer.

Your basic sentence

is from two to five years.

You could be here a long time.

If I get this team together, how long

do I have to get them organized?

Four weeks.

We're talking about early parole?

- I believe we are.

All right. I'll play.

What? I didn't hear.

I'll play.

- Sir.

I'll play, sir.

History. I read you

like a book, Mister Crewe.

One more thing.

What is it?

You keep Knauer off my back.

Give us a game, Mister Crewe.

I'll give you a game.

'Hit and be hit'.

'Anyone with any experience

or desire. Prison football team sign-up'.

Well, what do you think?

- No.

Maybe I'll get annihilated. Forget it.

- He's right.

Now, wait a second. Hey.

Here's how I look at it.

Suppose you break your leg or something.

That's six weeks easy time

in the hospital. That's biscuits and gravy.

Tell me something.

Would they let me play tackle?

Sure.

So I'd spend half the time looking

directly into Walking Boss's eyes?

Now you got it.

- I've always had a thing for him.

Walking Boss always had a thing for you.

Hold it. Don't you guys know

a good thing when you see it?

You get a free crack at the guards,

even a chance to kill one.

Legal.

- Bullshit. I ain't signing that damn thing.

Come on, everybody.

When Rotka's right, he's right.

This honky golden boy sold out

his own team-mates, didn't he?

Damn sure did.

Did it once, he'll do it again.

- Right.

Hi.

Hi.

You know you're doing it all wrong?

- Yeah?

Yeah. You'll never put

a team together with that bunch.

Well, I appreciate the advice.

I can help you.

I'm Nate Scarboro.

Nate Scarboro, Giants?

- Yeah.

Step into my office.

- Thank you.

I'm Paul Crewe.

- Yeah, I know.

You made All Pro, didn't you?

- Right.

Why'd you quit?

- It was simple.

Doc said, 'Quit football or walking'.

Too many knee operations.

I figured walking was better than sitting.

Maybe I made the wrong choice.

You got about 15 guys worth a damn.

The rest... How long did Hazen give you?

A month.

- Oh, you bought a bill of goods.

Didn't have any choice.

You don't have one black player.

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