The Longest Yard Page #4

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There he is, Connie Shokner.

The very baddest cat in the joint.

Even the guards are terrified of him.

He killed five people on the outside

and two in here, with his bare hands.

That karate's bad.

That's before he learned karate.

- Oh.

What's he doing now?

Nobody's ever had the guts to ask him.

Paul. Paul.

I smell a rat.

- Hello, Unger.

Paul.

I've got something important to ask you.

I want to be manager.

Caretaker's manager.

- I'm better than him. Let me prove it.

Beat it, Unger.

- F*** off.

Paul, why don't you like me?

I'm crazy about you.

I think you're terrific.

Friendship is something

that should never be taken lightly, Paul.

I really want people to like me,

but they never do.

I'd like very much to be your friend, Paul.

Well, it would be an honour

and a privilege, Unger.

Now, if you'll just excuse me.

Paul.

You sure about that?

I can't be manager?

Caretaker's manager.

If I'd have only found you sooner,

you know?

Good thing he loves you.

He burnt to death five people he didn't like.

Putty in my hands.

Come out, boy. Come out.

Hello, Mister Shokner.

Know how to play football?

- Yeah.

Good. Would you like to play football

with us inmates?

No.

- Oh.

We're playing the guards.

Yeah. I want to play.

He wants to play.

Thank you, Mister Shokner.

Now, remember,

nobody hits the quarterback.

Blue 28.

Set. Hut.

He broke my f***ing nose.

You bastard,

you broke my f***ing nose.

Calm down. I'll fix it.

I don't want to play this game.

He broke my nose.

- I'm going to fix it, OK? Here we go.

How does it look?

- It looks 100% better, doesn't it?

100%.

- It does?

Yeah.

He did that on purpose.

- No, he didn't.

Yes, he did.

- Tell him you...

Tell him you're sorry.

Please.

OK. I'm sorry.

OK, everybody.

Huddle up, let's go.

He said sorry.

Bullshit.

- He said he was sorry.

You dumb p*ssy.

Try it again.

- Three, twenty-five, hut, hut.

All right.

What about the rest of the team?

Outside of Crewe, the only one

who looks like anything is Granville.

Granville could give you real trouble.

- All right, that's all.

Well?

- It's going to be a turkey shoot.

He's right, sir.

We're going to destroy 'em.

It's a cinch, boss. A cinch.

Cinch.

Destroy 'em.

Too cute.

That's what you said last year before

we lost to Endicott Steel, remember?

There's no sense us taking any chances,

letting ourselves get hurt.

So see what we can do about Granville.

- Yes, sir.

Granville, get your ass over here.

Yes, sir, Lieutenant.

What the hell you think you're doing, boy?

You pick that up.

Yes, sir.

What is your problem, fat man?

Know why you spades always

calling each other 'brother'?

No, sir.

'Cause half of you don't know who your

daddy is, so you might be brothers.

Yes, sir, Lieutenant.

You think that's funny?

- Yes, sir.

You want to hit me, don't you?

No, sir, Lieutenant.

You're too ignorant to know when a man's

calling you a stupid, uneducated n*gger.

Yes, sir, Lieutenant.

May I go now, sir?

Yeah, get out of my sight.

Blue 48.

Blue 48.

Set.

Hut one.

Sh*t.

Hey, lightweight.

What the hell is this?

Here come the rain-clouds.

What do they want?

Granny tells us you need a little help.

Says you can guarantee no work detail.

Yeah.

- Guarantee special food like Granny gets?

Yeah.

We get to hit those guards

like Granny said?

You get to hit 'em.

What else can we offer them?

...having a Geneva conference

about playing with us.

What is this bullshit?

Well, Mister Crewe.

We've come to terms.

Compliments from

the Greater Chicago Youth Authority.

There goes the neighbourhood.

You wanted to see me?

Yes, sir.

...especially Unger.

Unger?

- Yes.

Unger has a direct pipeline

to Captain Knauer.

It's impossible for me to have

a secret practice while Unger's around.

I'm supposed

to reschedule the yard activities...

...for three uninterrupted hours

of secret practice?

That right?

- Yes, sir. Right.

And you will talk to Captain Knauer?

I'll speak to the captain on those matters.

- Thank you, sir.

Mister Crewe.

Just what is it you have up your sleeve?

I'm just trying to give you

a football team, Warden.

And along the way, maybe give the men

some pride and some dignity.

Of course, only for a little while.

I know you've got something more

bouncing around inside that head of yours.

You want a game, right?

My men don't have a chance in hell

of winning that game.

You know it, I know it,

I just don't want them to know it.

OK?

Man. I ain't had steak like this in five years.

I ain't eaten inside in six.

What have you done for me lately?

Today may be the high point

of a long and colourful career.

Three, count 'em,

three gigantic rip-offs.

First, I've got a box of brand new

equipment waiting to be stashed.

Compliments of Captain Knauer?

- No less.

And the piece de resistance:

how would you like actual game films

of the guardsmen in action?

Can you do that?

- Warden's own home movies.

Caretaker, you never cease to amaze me.

Never. But you said three gigantic rip-offs.

That's only two.

You don't want to ruin the surprise.

- Surprise?

There's one thing.

- What?

You're going to have to perform

a personal service.

What kind of personal service?

The warden's expecting you.

Won't you come this way.

Thank you, Captain.

- Thank you.

I'm glad you're not in the swamp

anymore. That can ruin a man.

Sure can.

We don't have a great deal of time.

We have 15 minutes.

The game films.

- Thank you. That's terrific.

Like I said, we only have 15 minutes.

Uh-uh. Won't go over the cuffs.

You do this very often?

I'm as far from Tallahassee

as you are, honey.

Shokner.

Shokner.

- Yep.

Hit him high like that,

he'll break your back.

Breaks your back,

he's going to break the Superstar's back.

Don't worry about him.

I'll get that son of a b*tch with an empi.

Kiai.

Ready. Set.

- Kiai.

Ready. Set.

- Kiai.

Take this bandage,

dip it into the plaster of Paris,

wrap it around the cast,

and in 15 minutes it's hard as rock.

Got it?

- Got it.

This is a picture of Walking Boss.

- Yeah.

He once broke his right thigh-bone,

maybe you can clip it.

We'll break it again.

- Got it?

Got it.

- All right. We can do it.

Gentlemen, what we have here,

in common parlance,

is known as a set of brass knuckles.

...temporary disabilities.

Balls. Gut. Ribs.

You got it?

- Got it.

...the ball is snapped,

you go into your opponent,

blocking him with your left arm

and bring this hand up into his chin,

and I'll guarantee he'll be incapacitated

for the next several moments.

Got it?

- Got it.

All right. Here's the play we're going to use.

I don't think the guards

know this formation.

It's called 'Incidental punishment

after the ball is blown dead'.

Any man you tackle gets an extra elbow,

knee, or kick in the mouth. Got it?

Got it.

I am, without a doubt,

the finest maker of raisin jack

in the entire joint.

I'm going to call this batch 'Old Caretaker'.

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