"MAJOR LEAGUE"
Screenplay by
David S. Ward
SHOOTING DRAFT
FADE IN: TITLES APPEAR ON BLACK B.G.
TITLES END and we WIDEN to reveal that the black b.g. is
actually the sludge-clogged surface of the Cuyahoga River.
We TILT UP from the river to reveal the city of Cleveland,
then follow with a series of shots of Cleveland landmarks.
INT. THE INJUN DINER - DAY
Three men in Cleveland Indian baseball caps sit at the
counter. BOBBY JAMES, 22-year-old grad student, VIC BOLITO,
30-year-old telephone worker, and JOHNNY WYNN, 45-year-old
house painter. THELMA GORDON, 65-year-old waitress, delivers
their breakfast.
THELMA
Spring training starts the twelfth.
How do you think the Indians will do
this year?
VIC
They don't look too good.
The other two shake their heads in contemplation of this
sorry fact.
INT. MEN'S CLUB - DAY
A 45-year-old BUSINESS EXECUTIVE is talking to a fellow club
member over lunch.
BUSINESS EXECUTIVE
They don't look particularly good,
do they?
EXT. CLEVELAND DOCKS - DAY
Two LONGSHOREMEN are talking while they unload a freighter.
LONGSHOREMEN
I'll tell ya. They don't look very
fuckin' good.
EXT. CLEVELAND MUNICIPAL STADIUM - DAY
Down on the field, two KOREAN GROUNDSKEEPERS speak Korean as
they resod the outfield.
GROUNDSKEEPER
(in subtitles)
They're shitty.
We TILT UP from the field to a glass-enclosed area on the
third deck.
INT. GLASS-ENCLOSED AREA - DAY
It's the Cleveland Indians' conference room. Three men are
seated around the table; CHARLIE DONOVAN. the manager, PHIL
BUTLER, public relations head, JERRY SIMMONS, operations
director and LYLE MATTHEWS director of player personnel
Donovan taps his pencil impatiently, obviously waiting for
somebody.
DONOVAN
(checking his watch)
Thirty minutes late. Think she'll
show?
MATTHEWS
She's got to. She's the damn owner
now.
DONOVAN
She didn't last week. She was having
a guava facial.
As Butler tries to figure out what a guava facial is, the
conference room doors swing open and a muscular MALE SECRETARY-
BODYGUARD enters, clearing the way for MRS. RACHEL PHELPS, a
flashy, striking woman in her early forties. Despite the
designer clothes she favors, there is the hint of something
less refined about her. She carries a Pekinese dog, CHA-CHA
on her left hip.
RACHEL
Good morning, gentlemen. Welcome to
another season of Indians' baseball.
The men applaud, but their hearts are barely in it. The
Secretary-Bodyguard pulls out a chair at the head of the
table and Rachel sits.
RACHEL
I know that it may not seem the same
without Donald here this year, but I
promise you by the end of the season
this team will have made history.
Several eyes roll up around the room.
RACHEL
(picking up a newspaper)
Unfortunately there are some in the
press who feel that...
(reading from the
page)
"the ex-showgirl wife of Donald Phelps
has no business being the owner of a
major league baseball team."
Rachel crumbles the paper and throws it away.
RACHEL
Obviously, Donald didn't feel that
way or he wouldn't have left the
team to me. And I was more than
showgirl. I was a dancer. Now, I
know some of you have doubts about
my ability to run this franchise.
God help you if I ever find out about
it.
This causes a few nervous glances in the room.
RACHEL
Spring training begins in two weeks.
(throwing a sheet of
paper on the table)
Here's the list of people we'll be
inviting to camp this year.
Donovan, Butler and Simmons pour over the list.
RACHEL
I could sit here and tell you what a
great year we're gonna have, but the
facts are we lost the two best players
we had to free agency. We haven't
won a pennant in 30 years. We haven't
even finished in the first division
for 15. Obviously it's time to make
some changes. What do ya think?
SIMMONS
I never heard of half these guys.
And the ones I do know are way past
their prime.
DONOVAN
Most of these guys never had a prime.
BUTLER
(pointing to the sheet)
This guy here is dead.
RACHEL
Cross him off then.
BUTLER
(under his breath)
Let's not be hasty.
RACHEL
It's time to shake things up, Charlie.
Clear the board and start over.
DONOVAN
Well, it's not the best material
I've ever had to work with, but I'll
do my best to see we move up a notch
this year.
RACHEL
I know you will, Charlie. That's why
I'm movin' you up to General Manager.
Congratulations.
Rachel sticks out her hand. Donovan shakes it somewhat feebly,
bewildered by this whole development.
RACHEL
Well, that should do it for today.
Thank you, gentlemen. Let's get to
work.
With that, Rachel gets up and breezes out of the room with
her entourage, leaving Donovan and the others dumbfounded.
MATTHEWS
(checking his watch)
One minute, 58 seconds.
INT. DONOVAN'S NEW OFFICE - DAY
Donovan, carrying a boxful of belongings under each arm,
pushes open the door of his new office and walks inside. The
basic outfitting is masculine enough, but the room is full
of feminine little accents; flowers in vases, porcelain desk
accessories etc. Donovan is slightly overwhelmed. Suddenly,
there's a voice at the door.
BODY-BUILDER ASSISTANT
Mr. Donovan, Mrs. Phelps would like
to see you.
OMIT
Sequence omitted from original script.
INT. RACHEL'S OFFICE - DAY
Donovan is ushered in by Rachel's Male Secretary. Donovan
carries his player roster with him.
INT. RACHEL'S OFFICE - DAY CONT
RACHEL
Come on in, Charlie. Have a seat.
DONOVAN
I'm glad you called me in. I'm still
unclear on a couple things
RACHEL
Oh, really? Like what?
DONOVAN
Well, if I'm the G.M., who's gonna
be the Manager?
RACHEL
I was thinking of Lou Brown.
DONOVAN
Lou Brown?
RACHEL
He's managed the Toledo Mud Hens of
the International League for the
last 30 years.
This is hardly an impressive credential to Donovan.
RACHEL
I think he'll fit right in with our
team concept.
DONOVAN
What exactly is our team concept?
RACHEL
That's what I wanted to talk to you
about. I want to put together a team
that will help us relocate to Miami.
DONOVAN
What do you mean?
(referring to the
roster)
Some of these guys are furniture
movers?
RACHEL
I'm serious about this, Charlie.
It's no secret I've never liked
Cleveland much. The weather's lousy,
downtown is a pit, the stadium's
falling apart, and we can't draw
dick. Another couple of years of
this and I'm gonna have to start
feeding Cha-Cha dog food.
Rachel bends down to give her dog, Cha-Cha, a little love
pat, while Donovan tries to contain his disgust.
DONOVAN
Mrs. Phelps, you can't just up and
move a team on a whim...
RACHEL
It's hardly a whim. Miami's offered
to build us a new stadium -- 62,000
capacity, 45 V.I.P. boxes, and no
rent for the first million at the
gate. Plus a 12 million dollar media
guarantee; 45 percent of the
concession gross, all of the parking
and they pick up the stadium
operations costs. No other franchise
in baseball can match that deal.
DONOVAN
Even so, the League'll never let us
leave Cleveland. We got a lease with
the city.
RACHEL
The lease says we have the right to
move if our attendance falls below
800,000 for the year.
(pushing across a
copy of the lease)
Paragraph 40, line 17.
Donovan looks at it, the paragraph highlighted in yellow.
RACHEL
If we play bad enough, we should be
able to come in under that.
DONOVAN
What are you saying? You want us to
lose?
RACHEL
No, we've been losing. What I want
us to do is finish dead last.
Donovan is stunned. He casts around helplessly for some
response.
DONOVAN
Mister Phelps would never have
approved of this.
RACHEL
He knew it had to be done. He just
didn't have the courage to do it.
(with veiled menace)
Hopefully, you will come to see the
wisdom of it.
(pause)
If this team lives up to its
potential, we could have the worst
record in all baseball.
On Donovan's sunken face, we go to:
EXT. SHABBY MEXICAN HOTEL - MORNING
On a stretch of deserted Mexican highway. OVER we hear a
telephone RING.
INT. MOTEL ROOM - MORNING
The room is a total mess. The back door is off its hinges
and a few chickens have wandered in. As they peck around the
debris, we PAN the room, taking in beer cans, food wrappers
and finally a trail of hastily discarded clothes, both male
and female.
We reach the bed and find our hero, JAKE TAYLOR, 35, and
with a couple days growth of stubble, passed out on his face.
Sprawled across him asleep is a MEXICAN WOMAN in her late
twenties. She's not great looking, but at least she's
overweight. Taylor's hand fumbles to the RINGING telephone.
TAYLOR
Yeh.
It's Charlie Donovan calling from his office in Cleveland.
We CUT BACK AND FORTH between the two as we will in subsequent
phone scenes.
DONOVAN
Hello, Jake? This is Charlie Donovan,
new G.M. of the Cleveland Indians.
TAYLOR
(skeptical)
Yeh...
DONOVAN
I wanted to call and say the
organization remembers you fondly
from the years you played here and
we'd love to have you come to spring
training for a shot at this year's
club.
TAYLOR
Who is this?
DONOVAN
What?
TAYLOR
Is that you, Tolbert? This isn't
very funny, ya know. I'm hung over.
My knees are killin' me. If you were
gonna pull this shit, you could've
at least said you were from the
Yankees.
Taylor struggles to get a look up at the girl on top of him.
TAYLOR
(still to Donovan)
By the way, you were with me last
night. Who's this girl on top of me?
Donovan is baffled by this whole line of conversation.
TAYLOR
Tolbert? Tolbert? Screw it.
Taylor hangs up, leaving Donovan staring into his phone.
Taylor looks up to see TOLBERT standing in the doorway.
TAYLOR
Tolbert.
TOLBERT
Who the hell were you talkin' to?
On Taylor's reaction, we...
CUT TO:
INT. TOLEDO TIRE STORE - DAY
We PICK UP LOU BROWN, a portly man in his early fifties,
making his way to his glass-partitioned office.
SECRETARY
Lines three and four are waiting for
you, Mr. Brown. One guy about the TR-
70's.
BROWN
(picking up the phone)
Tire World.
DONOVAN
Lou? This is Charlie Donovan, the
new G.M. of the Cleveland Indians.
Listen, Lou, I hope you're sittin'
down 'cause I got an offer you
probably been dreamin' about your
whole life. We been watchin' your
progress down there at Toledo with a
lotta interest and well...
(a dramatic pause)
How would you like to manage the
Indians this year?
For a moment there's silence on the line, then:
BROWN
I don't know...
DONOVAN
(incredulous)
What do ya mean you don't know? This
is a chance to manage in the big
leagues.
BROWN
Lemme think it over, will ya, Charlie.
I got a guy on the other line about
some whitewalls. I'll talk to ya
later.
Brown clicks off. Donovan puts his head down on his desk.
INT. CHARLIE DONOVAN'S OFFICE - DAY
Donovan's on the phone to another player.
DONOVAN
Rick, we heard about your pitching
out at Portland last year...
RICKY VAUGHN
Good-looking, muscular, 19-year-old. Sleeveless black T-shirt.
Talking on a wall phone in a nondescript room.
VAUGHN
I'm, ah, not with them anymore...
Vaughn has been working, sweating slightly. He takes off his
cap to mop his brow -- revealing a RADICAL HAIRCUT with
PIGTAIL. He sports a RING in his left ear.
DONOVAN
We'd still like to take a look at ya
at our spring camp in Arizona, March
first.
LONG SHOT - VAUGHN
In the b.g., Vaughn is on the phone. In the f.g., we see
security bars. Vaughn's in a Youth Authority prison.
VAUGHN
Yeh, well, I'm not sure I can make
it by then.
DONOVAN
Don't worry, we're gettin' you out
on a sort of work furlough deal. Any
questions?
VAUGHN
Yeh. Where's Cleveland?
INT. DONOVAN'S OFFICE - DAY
On the speaker again to Lou Brown. Rachel watches, impatient
for him to close the deal.
DONOVAN
Look, Lou, you been in baseball thirty
years. Don't you wanna advance some?
BROWN
(eating a sack lunch)
I used to coach the unwed mothers'
softball team. I have advanced some.
Rachel rubs her fingers together, making the money sign to
Donovan.
DONOVAN
Well, what are you really worried
about? The money?
BROWN
Naw, I'm just not sure I'd be happy
in a big organization like that.
Owners are always on your back, tryin'
to "help you out."
DONOVAN
I don't think that's gonna be a
problem.
BROWN
Down here baseball's a game, not a
business. I don't wanta be a
babysitter for a buncha millionaires
who think they know it all already.
DONOVAN
We don't have any millionaires.
BROWN
Well then, bonus babies or whatever
you got...
DONOVAN
Don't have any bonus babies either.
BROWN
Don't you have any proven major league
talent?
DONOVAN
(embarrassed)
Not that I know of.
BROWN
Well, then... I'll be up in a couple
days.
DONOVAN
What?
BROWN
Sounds like my kinda team. Have my
contracts ready.
Brown hangs up.
DONOVAN
(to the others)
Guess I really put the screws to
him.
EXT. MEXICAN LEAGUE BALL PARK - DAY
This one's a dandy. The left field wall is a 20-foot high,
solid granite outcropping. A final out is made and the teams
change over.
TAYLOR
returning to the dugout at the end of the inning, wondering
what the hell he's doin' here.
MANAGER
Taylor, telephone for you.
Taylor goes to the phone in the clubhouse tunnel.
TAYLOR
Hello.
DONOVAN
Jake, Charlie Donovan again.
TAYLOR
Oh yeh, Charlie, look, I'm sorry
about this morning...
DONOVAN
No problem. Look, Jake, camp starts
on the first. Can you make it?
TAYLOR
Sure.
DONOVAN
You been stayin' in shape down there?
TAYLOR
Oh hell, yeh, I work out every day.
DONOVAN
I thought so. See ya in Arizona.
Donovan hangs up. Taylor shoots a fist in the air, and we...
CUT TO:
TAYLOR
approaching his MANAGER.
MANAGER
Let's go, Taylor. You're up.
TAYLOR
Luis, I'm not gonna be playin'
anymore. I got a tryout in the States.
MANAGER
Fine. Leave your uniform.
TAYLOR
But I changed at the motel.
MANAGER
Leave your uniform.
TAYLOR
coming out of the stadium, his bats and gloves over his
shoulder. He has on his spikes and a pair of boxer shorts.
INT. BEAT-UP MEXICAN BUS - DAY
Taylor sits in the back seat. He has six Coke bottles filled
with sand strapped to his ankles. He lifts his legs up and
down to strengthen his muscles.
OMIT
Sequence omitted from original script.
EXT. INDIANS' TRAINING CAMP PRACTICE FIELD - DAY
Donovan, Brown and two of his coaches, PEPPER LEACH (pitching)
and DUKE TEMPLE (hitting) are on the field, witnessing the
arrival of their "troops." First to arrive is:
TAYLOR
He gets out of a taxi and goes to the trunk to get his bats
and luggage.
DONOVAN
This looks like Jake Taylor.
Brown turns around from a conversation with Temple.
BROWN
He was an Allstar in Boston, wasn't
he?
DONOVAN
Yeh.
PEPPER
Wish we had him two years ago.
DONOVAN
We did.
PEPPER
Four years ago then.
INT. PLAYER'S BARRACKS - DAY
Like an Army barracks. Rows of bunk beds seperated by lockers.
Taylor walks in with Temple, the hitting instructor.
TAYLOR
What happened to the private rooms?
TEMPLE
We're on an austerity program. This
is what happens when you finish 24
games out.
BROWN, PEPPER, TEMPLE AND DONOVAN
back at the field, supervising the arrival of more players.
The first is a tall, muscular Latin, PEDRO CERRANO, dressed
in black from head to toe. He arrives on foot, carrying a
black suitcase and pulling a black bat case on wheels. He
looks like a gunfighter coming into Dodge.
BROWN
Who's that?
DONOVAN
I think it's Cerrano. Defected from
Cuba. Wanted religious freedom.
BROWN
What's his religion?
DONOVAN
Voodoo.
BLACK AND TAN ROLLS-ROYCE
pulling into the parking lot. Out steps RODGER DORN, high-
priced third baseman. Brown eyes him with vague disapproval.
BROWN
Thought you didn't have any high-
priced talent.
DONOVAN
(sheepish)
I forgot about Dorn, 'cause he's
only high-priced. Got him as a free
agent three years ago.
BROWN
Still hits the ball pretty well,
doesn't he?
DONOVAN
Yeh, he just can't field it.
Dorn pulls his golf clubs out of the car.
BROWN
We'll shape him up.
WILLIE HAYES
a 22-year-old black, pulling up in a '72 VW Beetle which
he's got a Cadillac grille on. He steps out in his shades
and sharkskin suit.
DONOVAN
Don't recognize this guy.
Hayes strolls up and introduces himself.
HAYES
Say hey, Willie Mays Hayes here. I
play like Mays and run like Hayes.
BROWN
Lou Brown. Nice to meet ya, Hayes.
HAYES
Thanks. Well, I gotta get my stuff...
Hayes hustles off toward his car.
DONOVAN
I don't remember a Hayes on the list.
A motorcycle pulls to a stop in the lot, diverting everyone's
attention from Hayes.
Off steps Ricky Vaughn, a hefty bag over his shoulder. He's
still sporting his radical do.
PEPPER
Look at this fuckin' guy.
TEMPLE
Maybe he's the mascot.
Donovan is speechless. Brown breaks into a small smile. Yes,
sir, this is his kinda team.
INT. PLAYERS' BARRACKS
Taylor is putting his stuff away in a locker. Vaughn enters
the barracks and immediately draws the attention of Dorn.
DORN
Hey, what do we have here? Guy looks
like a fuckin' toilet brush. Hey,
T.B., I love your pony tail. And the
earring's cute too. Where's the
matching bracelet?
Vaughn whips a hard glance at Dorn, but keeps on walking,
making his way along the bunks looking for his assigned bed.
It's the one above Taylor. Vaughn unloads his duffel bag in
silence.
TAYLOR
(offering his hand)
Jake Taylor.
Vaughn shakes it and nods. Says nothing.
TAYLOR
So, you just gonna settle for toilet
brush, or you got another name?
VAUGHN
Vaughn. Rick Vaughn.
TAYLOR
Forget about Dorn. He's always a
little tough on rookies. You'll get
a lot worse from other teams.
The conversation is interrupted by the arrival of Hayes.
HAYES
Say hey! How ya doin'? Willie Mays
Hayes here.
TAYLOR
Jake Taylor.
(pointing to Vaughn)
Rick Vaughn.
Hayes doesn't quite know what to make of Vaughn.
HAYES
What the hell league you been playin'
in?
VAUGHN
California Penal.
HAYES
Never heard of it. How'd you wind up
playin' there?
VAUGHN
I stole a car.
On Hayes' look, we...
CUT TO:
INT. THE BARRACKS - NIGHT
It's dark. Everyone's asleep. Three SECURITY GUARDS with
flashlights come down to the top bunk where Hayes is sleeping.
GUARD
This guy wasn't invited to camp.
They lift the bunk out of its slots and carry it out the
door, Hayes still asleep on it.
INT. LOCKER ROOM - MORNING
The players are dressing out in their uniforms for the first
day of practice. Vaughn goes in his locker and finds that a
slit has been cut in the back of his cap to accommodate his
pigtail. Suppressed laughs are heard from several corners of
the locker room.
INT. CLUBHOUSE - MORNING
Brown is addressing his troops before the first workout.
BROWN
Welcome to Spring Training, gentlemen.
Most managers tell you at this time
that all the jobs are open, that
nobody's a lock at any position, and
that talent isn't everything. They'd
rather see desire and discipline in
a player. Then they tell you that
most of all they want you to have
fun out there, even though they're
gonna work your ass off on
fundamentals and condition you till
you drop. The difference between me
and those other managers is...
(pause)
I mean it.
On a locker room full of uneasy faces, we...
CUT TO:
EXT. PRACTICE FIELD PARKING LOT - MORNING
Hayes' cot is sitting in the lot, just outside the fence,
his suitcase set down next to it. Hayes is still asleep, dew
on his forehead. Wakened by the noise of activity on the
field, he sits up with a start.
HAYES
Shit, I been cut already?
THE PRACTICE FIELD
We pick up Taylor sprinting his ass off in a 100-yard time
trial, staggering across the finish line 10 feet behind
Cerrano.
PEPPER
(checking stopwatch)
11.9 Taylor. Not bad if you'd fallen
down.
As Taylor tries to catch his breath, Dorn and a relief pitcher
named Gant approach the starting line for the next trial.
HAYES
looking through the chain-link fence surrounding the field.
DORN AND GENTRY AGAIN
Temple brings them to their marks and blows his whistle.
Dorn and Gentry take off.
Suddenly Hayes, in his pajamas and bare feet comes streaking
toward the starting line in hot pursuit. Dorn and Gentry a
good 10-yard lead, but Hayes is coming like a bullet. We go
to SLOW MOTION as Hayes draws even at the 80-yard mark and
blasts on by to win by five. This kid is fast. Brown and
Pepper give each other the "Who was that Masked Man" look.
BROWN
Get him a uniform.
EXT. THE PRACTICE FIELD - LONG SHOT - DAY
The players are spread out on the field doing calisthenics,
counting off in unison.
TAYLOR
struggling through a series of pushups. He glances over in
disbelief at Vaughn and Cerrano, who are doing them like
pistons in competition with each other. Cerrano even starts
doing them one-handed.
Hayes isn't doing them at all; merely pulling his head up
and down while leaving his body on the ground.
HARRIS
C'mon, Hayes, let's do 'em right.
HAYES
Hey, my philosophy is no pain, no
pain.
EXT. THE BATTING CAGE - DAY
Taylor is crouched behind the plate, warming up his arm.
Catching pitches and throwing them half-speed down to second.
Brown drifts over.
BROWN
How the knees holdin' up, Jake?
TAYLOR
Great. Never been better.
BROWN
Mobility's good? No problem gettin'
off the throw to second?
TAYLOR
No problem.
BROWN
I need a catcher, Jake. Somebody who
can keep this team together on the
field. You were a helluva player
when you were sound, but around the
league they think you can't take the
pounding anymore.
TAYLOR
Around the league they're wrong.
BROWN
I'm gonna have to put you to the
test, ya know. So, I want the absolute
truth here. Are you 100 percent?
TAYLOR
Yeh. Would I bullshit about somethin'
like that?
BROWN
(walking away)
You better if you wanna make this
team.
Taylor smiles and fires one full-speed down to second. It
bounces two feet in front of the bag.
EXT. BATTING CAGE - DAY
Brown is watching batting practice.
Hayes steps into the cage and begins a preparatory ritual
worthy of Babe Ruth -- rubbing dirt on his hands, stretching,
knocking dirt off his spikes, twirling the bat, etc. A real
slugger's routine.
BROWN
C'mon, Hayes, this isn't the All
Star Game. Get up to the damn plate.
Hayes gets in and takes his stance. On the first pitch, he
takes a mighty cut and hits a pop-fly to the pitcher's mound.
We take QUICK CUTS of the next three pitches. Hayes takes
prodigious swings at all of them, producing three more pop-
ups, none out of the infield. Brown calls a halt.
BROWN
Well, you may run like Mays, but you
hit like shit.
HAYES
My stroke'll come back once I get
warmed up.
TEMPLE
(referring to some
stats)
Never did get warmed up last year.
Hit .211 at Maine. I looked him up.
BROWN
I think Mr. Hayes shows some promise.
His speed could be a big asset.
PEPPER
(aside)
For what? Running back to the dugout?
BROWN
You gotta stop swingin' for the fences
though, Hayes. All you're gonna do
is give yourself a hernia. With your
speed you should be hittin' the ball
on the ground, leggin' 'em out. Every
time I see you hit one in the air,
you owe me twenty pushups.
HAYES
Hey, no problem.
The next pitch comes in. Hayes swings and pops it up.
HAYES
Shit.
As he gets down to do his twenty, Brown turns to Temple.
BROWN
Sometimes you can teach a guy to
hit. You can't teach him to run.
BROWN AND PEPPER
coming over to where Vaughn is tossing some casual warm-up
pitches to Jake.
BROWN
All right, Vaughn, they tell us you're
a pitcher. Let's see what you got.
Brown and Pepper stand behind Taylor for a better view. Vaughn
goes into his wind-up and fires a screaming fast ball that
Taylor has no chance to get out of his crouch to catch. The
ball rockets an inch over Brown's head, and slams into the
backstop.
Brown stands frozen a second, contemplating his brush with
eternity, then turns to Pepper.
BROWN
Nice velocity.
PEPPER
Sounded like it.
TAYLOR
Sorry, Lou, I wasn't quite expectin'
that much octane.
Brown turns to the Clubhouse Man who's holding a speed gun.
BROWN
How much?
CLUBHOUSE MAN
96 miles an hour.
BROWN
(to Pepper)
Better teach him some control before
he kills somebody.
RODGER DORN
fielding grounders at third base. He plays them off to his
left side a bit, almost as if he's afraid to get bit by them.
BROWN
C'mon, Dorn, get in front of the
damn ball.
(making like a
bullfighter)
Don't give me this ole' bullshit.
DORN
I took one of these in the eye last
year. Nearly lost my sight.
BROWN
I'm deeply moved. Every time you
play it off your hip, you give me
forty sit-ups.
DORN
What! That's Little League shit.
BROWN
So is this.
Brown strikes an effeminate fielding position, like Betty
Grable shying from a mouse. Dorn burns.
PEDRO CERRANO
in the batting cage, knocking the cover off pitch after pitch
with his black bat.
BROWN
Jesus, this guy hits a ton. How come
nobody else picked up on him?
TEMPLE
(to the batting
practice pitcher)
Okay, Harris, that's enough fast
balls. Throw some curves.
Harris winds and throws a fair-to-middlin' curve ball. Cerrano
swings and misses it a foot.
BROWN
Oh.
Dorn approaches Brown at the cage.
DORN
Lou, I wanna have a word with you
here.
BROWN
Sure.
DORN
(whipping out his
contract)
Those penalty sit-ups you want me to
do? I got it right here in my contract
that I don't have to do any
calisthenics I don't feel are
necessary. What do ya think of that?
Everyone around the batting cage has stopped what they're
doing to see how Brown will react. Brown looks at the contract
a second, then drops it on the ground, unzips his fly, and
gives it a golden shower. On Dorn's stunned face, we...
CUT TO:
DORN
doing sit-ups in the infield. Vaughn walks by and smiles.
LONGSHOT - PRACTICE FIELD
Practically every member of the team is doing penalty
calisthenics somewhere on the field.
PEPPER
(to Temple)
We got anybody left playin' baseball
out there?
INT. THE LOCKER ROOM - AFTERNOON
Taylor, Hayes and Vaughn drag in, looking beat from the day's
workout.
TAYLOR
Shit, the way I played today, I
wouldn't be surprised if they red-
tagged me already.
HAYES
What do ya mean?
TAYLOR
Red tag in your locker means the
manager wants to see you, 'cause you
just died and went to the minors.
Vaughn's hand freezes on his locker latch, afraid to open it
now.
TAYLOR
Don't worry, they don't cut anybody
the first day.
Vaughn is still not so sure. He sits down on his locker stool
and glances over toward STEVE HARRIS a starting pitcher,
whose locker is adjacent. As Harris takes off his jersey we
see three SPLOTCHES OF GREASY SUBSTANCES on his chest, just
inside the button line.
VAUGHN
What is that stuff?
HARRIS
(pointing to them in
order)
Crisco, Bardahl, Vagisil. Any one of
'em will give you another 2-3 inches
drop on your curve ball.
Vaughn can't believe this.
HARRIS
Course if it's cold and I got a shirt
on under my jersey, I just rub a
little jalapeno inside my nose and
get it runnin'. I need to load up
the ball a little, I just wipe my
nose.
VAUGHN
(revolted)
You put snot on the ball?
HARRIS
At my age, you put anything you can
find on it. I haven't got an arm
like yours.
Vaughn just looks at him incredulous.
TAYLOR AND CARRANO
Taylor is undressing, but his attention is diverted by Cerrano
whose stall is right next to him. Cerrano has set up an altar
in his locker. In front of his bats, which are lined up like
sentinels, is a table covered with pictures of baseball
players, figurines of saints, several lit candles and, in
the middle, a primitive fetish doll with a cigar in its mouth.
Cerrano has drawn some magic signs on his bats. He finishes
an incantation and then lights the cigar on the fetish doll.
TAYLOR
What are you doin' there, Pedro?
CERRANO
Bats. They are sick.
TAYLOR
So are mine. Is somethin' goin'
around?
CERRANO
No hit curve ball. Straight ball,
hit it very much. Curve ball, bats
are afraid. I ask Jo-Buu to come.
Take fear from bats.
HAYES
Jo-Buu?
TAYLOR
Maybe he's the pagan saint of
baseball.
CERRANO
I offer him cigars and gin. He will
come.
Cerrano pours some gin in a small cup and puts it next to
the fetish doll. Harris has been listening to all this.
Cerrano grabs a towel to head for the showers.
HARRIS
I wouldn't leave this gin sittin'
around out here with this group.
CERRANO
(with a certain gravity)
Is very bad to steal Jo-Buu's gin.
Is very bad.
Cerrano closes his locker and goes off to the showers, leaving
everyone to wonder just how bad.
OMIT
Sequence omitted from original script.
MONTAGE SEQUENCE
compressing and detailing the progress of spring training.
We see:
A) Vaughn on the pitcher's mound. A tin replica of a batter
has been set up at home plate and rope stretched across the
plate to delineate the strike zone. Vaughn fires a pitch and
hits the tin batter in the hip, leaving a dent in him.
B) Cerrano in the batting cage, flailing away in futility at
several curve balls.
C) HAYES
doing push-ups at night. He's the only one left on the field,
except Temple, who supervises.
D) TAYLOR
doing the "scramble" drill -- blocking down balls purposely
thrown in the dirt, one after another. When it ends, he can
hardly get to his feet.
E) CERRANO
waving a ten-foot BOA CONSTRICTOR in the sign of the cross
in front of his locker before opening it. No red tag greets
him. Hayes watches from a safe distance.
F) VAUGHN
holding a mirror under the vents on his locker door to get a
peek inside to see if there's a red tag there.
G) DORN
taking a hard ground ball off the chest. Brown applauds.
Dorn is pissed.
H) VAUGHN
throwing at the "ropes" again. The tin batter is dented in
every conceivable place now. Vaughn whips in another fast
ball. This one hits the tin man in the head, knocking it
completely off.
I) TAYLOR
in an exhibition game, attempting to throw out a base stealer.
Jake springs out of his crouch and fires down to second --
on a bounce. The ball skips into center field.
J) HAYES
also in an exhibition game, swinging at a pitch and popping
it up behind the plate. He just drops in his tracks and starts
to do push-ups as the catcher makes the catch behind him.
K) CERRANO
flailing away again at a curve ball. This and the remaining
shots are all in exhibition games.
L) HAYES
waving a ten-inch garter snake in front of his locker. Even
at this size we can tell it scares the hell out of him, but
it works its magic. No red tag.
M) VAUGHN
with a runner on third, winding up and throwing a pitch four
feet over Taylor's head. The run scores.
N) HAYES
attempting to steal second. He goes into a hell-bent-for-
leather head first slide. Unfortunately, he comes up two
feet short of the base. The second baseman, who's waiting
for him with the ball, makes a motion for him to keep coming.
Hayes flips him the bird.
O) LOU BROWN
on the bench. He turns to Pepper with a look that says, "Can
you believe this shit?"
P) TAYLOR
waiting for a throw at the plate. Just as he's about to catch
it, the runner knocks him flat.
Q) BROWN
his head in his hands. As Taylor gets up and goes to the
wrong dugout, the MONTAGE ENDS.
EXT. INDIANS' PRACTICE FIELD - LATE AFTERNOON
Players are filing off the team bus after the game. We PICK
UP Taylor, Hayes and Vaughn as they head toward the locker
room.
VAUGHN
This is final cut down day, right?
TAYLOR
Yeh, better get your snake ready,
Hayes.
HAYES
No, I'm goin' cold turkey today. My
hands are too screwed up to hold it
anyway.
Hayes reveals a pair of red and cut hands.
TAYLOR
If you're gonna use that head first
slide, you better get yourself some
gloves or you're not gonna have any
skin left on your hands.
They've reached the locker room now.
VAUGHN
I don't wanna go in there.
TAYLOR
Whatever happens, keep it to yourself
until you're outta the locker room.
Don't celebrate in front of guys who
just died.
HAYES
What if we're one of the deceased?
Taylor goes into the locker room. Hayes and Vaughn hang back.
Cerrano is already at his locker. He's got two snakes this
time and some kind of voodoo head dress on. He sprays a patch
of white paint on the locker door from a spray can, draws a
symbol door. No tag. He kisses the snake, leaving some white
paint on his lips, like a kid who's just had a glass of milk.
Taylor, exhausted from the game, lifts his latch and peers
inside. He's made it, too. Cerrano offers a hand. Taylor
shakes it and breaks a weary smile.
GENTRY
opens locker, slumps on stool. He's a goner.
HAYES AND VAUGHN
the two rookies, are still hanging back.
HAYES
C'mon, Vaughn, let's show some nuts
here. If they cut us, we'll just
sign with the Yankees.
Hayes strides manfully to his locker and pulls it open. This
doesn't tell him much, however, because he's got his eyes
closed. He stands that way a beat ot two, then opens one
eye.
Seeing no tag, he turns and walks double-time out of the
locker room, as if he had to get to the john.
He comes outside, turns a corner, and starts leaping around
like a wild man.
VAUGHN
drawing strength from Hayes, walks resolutely to his locker
and whips it open. There hanging from the top hook is the
"red death." Vaughn stares at it expressionless, then slowly
closes his locker.
CUT TO:
INT. BROWN'S OFFICE - LATE AFTERNOON
Vaughn goes right in without knocking and leans on Brown's
desk.
VAUGHN
I got news for you, Mr. Brown. You
haven't heard the last of me. You
think I'm shit now, but someday you'll
be sorry you cut me. I'm gonna catch
on somewhere else, and every time I
pitch against you, I'm gonna stick
it up your ass.
BROWN
Good, I like that kinda spirit in a
player. The only problem is, I didn't
cut you.
VAUGHN
What do you mean?
BROWN
I think somebody's been havin' fun
with you.
We GO TO Vaughn, his faced a mask of anger and embarrassment.
THE LOCKER ROOM AGAIN
Vaughn charges across the room and jumps Dorn. The men grapple
and fight all over the room, until Taylor finally gets them
separated.
DORN
(to Vaughn)
What's the matter, little lady? Can't
you take a joke?
Vaughn gives Dorn a look that indicates this isn't over. Lou
Brown enters the room.
BROWN
Can I have your attention, please? I
counted up your ballots for team
captain and I think you chose the
right guy. If you hadn't, I woulda
told you he won anyway. Mr. C for
the year -- Jake Taylor.
The team breaks into applause and whistles as Taylor's name
is announced. Dorn is the only one who seems unhappy about
it. As Taylor accepts the congratulations of his teammates,
he turns to Vaughn.
TAYLOR
Forget about Dorn. You got other
things to do.
VAUGHN
Like what?
TAYLOR
Packing for Cleveland.
Taylor gives him a wide smile. Vaughn finally allows himself
one.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE CLEVELAND SKYLINE - DAY
Such as it is. We MOVE DOWN to the same diner we saw during
the opening of the film.
INT. INJUN DINER - DAY
The same three guys as before are at the counter.
THELMA
You see the new lineup the Indians
got?
BOBBY
I never heard of most of 'em.
INT. EXECUTIVE LIMOUSINE - DAY
The Business Executive is talking to the limo driver as he
reads the sports section.
BUSINESS EXECUTIVE
I don't know the majority of these
names.
EXT. CLEVELAND DOCKS - DAY
The two Longshoremen again, looking at a paper.
LONGSHOREMAN
Who are these fuckin' guys?
EXT. CLEVELAND MUNICIPAL STADIUM - DAY
The two Korean Groundskeepers again, dragging the infield.
GROUNDSKEEPER
(in subtitles)
They're shitty.
INT. CLEVELAND MUNICIPAL STADIUM - DAY
Taylor is alone in the stadium, standing near home plate in
his street clothes, taking in the massive stadium, remembering
glories past. He steps into the batter's box and takes his
stance.
TAYLOR
(to himself)
Two down. Bottom of the ninth.
Taylor points to the left field stands. He imagines a pitch
coming in, takes a mighty swing and admires the flight of
the imaginary ball as it arches high in the mid-day sky,
landing deep in the left field seats. Breaking into his home
run trot, he circles the bases, slapping the third base
coach's hand and exchanging low fives with his teamates as
he reaches the plate.
Suddenly, his reverie is interrupted by the sound of applause.
He turns and looks in the dugout, where Hayes and Vaughn are
giving him a hand.
HAYES
Really got all of that one.
VAUGHN
What was it? A slider?
Taylor is too embarrassed to reply.
INT. CLEVELAND RESTAURANT - NIGHT
One of Cleveland's finest. Taylor, Hayes and Vaughn are seated
at a table.
TAYLOR
What are you gonna have?
HAYES
I don't know. What language is this?
TAYLOR
French.
HAYES
They got patty melts over there?
TAYLOR
Forget it. I'll order. Let's have a
toast.
The three raise their wine glasses.
TAYLOR
Here's to baseball, here's to the
start of two great careers, and for
me, here's to at least one more good
year in the sun.
The glasses CLINK. Suddenly Taylor's attention fixes on
something across the room -- a stunning young woman in her
late twenties, LYNN WESTLAND. She's having dinner with a
DATE in a three-piece suit.
Hayes and Vaughn follow Taylor's eyes to the woman.
VAUGHN
What is it? The chick?
TAYLOR
That's my wife.
HAYES
Does she know it?
TAYLOR
I mean she woulda been if I hadn't
screwed it up. Who's that guy she's
with?
HAYES
I don't know. He's not wearing a
name tag.
VAUGHN
You want me to beat the shit out of
him?
TAYLOR
No.
HAYES
What does she do?
TAYLOR
She's a librarian.
VAUGHN
A librarian? Shit, I gotta start
readin' again.
INT. CLEVELAND RESTAURANT - NIGHT
A WAITER approaches the table where Lynn and her date are
sharing a dessert.
WAITER
Miss Wells, there's a telephone call
for you.
Lynn is somewhat surprised, but gets up to take the call. We
FOLLOW her to the pay phone in the hall.
LYNN
Hello.
VOICE
Hello, Lynn. It's Jake.
LYNN
Jake? How did you know I was here?
TAYLOR
Just a hunch. I took you there when
you got your masters. I figure you're
probably wearing the black velvet
dress with the red sash.
She is indeed. Lynn is a little unsettled by this display of
clairvoyance.
LYNN
How did you know that? I didn't have
this dress when we were...
Sensing that something's askew, she turns and looks across
the way to see Jake talking to her on the pay phone on the
other side of the hall, maybe ten feet away. He gives her
his best grin.
TAYLOR
You look great.
Lynn, as is often the case with Jake, is both charmed and
put-out. She goes with put-out.
LYNN
Thanks. What are you doin' here?
Aren't you supposed to be in Mexico
somewhere?
TAYLOR
I'm playin' with the Indians again.
Back in the Bigs.
LYNN
That's great. I'm happy for you,
Jake.
And she is. Not so sure about herself, though.
LYNN
(starting away)
I gotta get back...
TAYLOR
Wait a minute. What's your number. I
tried calling you at home, but you're
not listed...
LYNN
My life is different from when you
knew me.
TAYLOR
Meaning what? That I don't know you
anymore?
LYNN
Couldn't we talk about this some
other time? I really gotta...
TAYLOR
Okay, just gimme your number.
LYNN
I don't think that's a good idea.
TAYLOR
Why not? Because of the guy you're
with? What is he, a banker?
LYNN
Lawyer. Please, Jake, he's watching
us.
TAYLOR
I'm not leavin' without your number.
You still wear those great little
tortoise-shell glasses? I always
loved it when you took them off.
LYNN
(exasperated)
Jake...
TAYLOR
The number, Lynn...
LYNN
(reluctant)
All right. 555-9314.
TAYLOR
Thank you. I'm back, Lynn, and I'm
gonna be around.
She looks at him a beat, unsure what to say, then heads back
toward her table. We go to Lynn's date. None of this has
been lost on him.
INT. TAXI - DAY
Taylor, Hayes and Vaughn are the fares.
CABBIE
What's the number again?
TAYLOR
(looking at a piece
of paper)
1036.
HAYES
What is this place?
TAYLOR
Furnished apartment building owned
by the Indians. We get special rates.
With what we're makin' we'll need
it.
The Cabbie pulls to a stop and points to the other side of
the street.
CABBIE
That's it.
Taylor and the others turn to see a dismal, run-down building
with a neon sign that says "The Turk."
TAYLOR
Welcome to the Big Leagues.
INT. THE TURK - DAY
Jake goes to a pay phone in the hall and dials the number
Lynn gave him.
VOICE ON PHONE
Hello, Cuyahoga Sheet Metal.
Taylor doesn't like the sound of this.
TAYLOR
You got anybody workin' there named
Lynn Wells?
VOICE ON PHONE
Never heard of her.
TAYLOR
Didn't think so.
Taylor hangs up, staring off into space.
INT. THE INDIANS' LOCKER ROOM - DAY
Various players are dressing out for the game. We PICK UP
Cerrano putting on his undergarments. They're all black,
including his jock. Dorn reads the Wall Street Journal, while
Taylor sits on the trainer's table getting his knees taped.
Hayes checks the fit of his new uniform from every angle in
a mirror. He thinks he looks pretty good. Vaughn just squeezes
a baseball in his left hand, obviously a little uptight.
Taylor gives him a chuck on the shoulder.
TAYLOR
Take it easy. We got 162 of these to
go.
Lou Brown enters the locker room.
BROWN
All right, let's gather 'round.
The players turn their attention to Brown.
BROWN
I'm not much for inspirational
addresses. I just wanta point out
that every newspaper in the country
has picked us to finish last. The
local press thinks we'd save everybody
a lot of time and trouble if we just
went out and shot ourselves. Me, I
like to waste sportswriters' time so
I'm for hangin' around and seein' if
we can give all these guys a nice
big shitburger to eat.
Cheers all around.
HARRIS
Aren't we gonna have a prayer? I
mean we're not all savages like
Cerrano.
BROWN
You guys go ahead. I belong to the
church of three-run homers.
HARRIS
All right, let's bow our heads.
Many of the players follow suit. Suddenly the silence is
shattered by a loud explosive SOUND, scaring the hell out of
everybody. All eyes turn to Cerrano, who has just set off a
charge of gunpowder on his locker altar.
CERRANO
Have to wake up bats.
Disgusted, Harris and the others turn back to their prayers.
HARRIS
Dear Lord, we ask...
Harris never gets to finish. The smoke rising from Cerrano's
gunpowder explosion sets off the automatic sprinklers in the
ceiling. As Harris and the faithful look up into the downpour,
we...
CUT TO:
EXT. MUNICIPAL STADIUM - DAY
The stands are nearly empty. Of the fans who have showed up,
many wear doormats around their necks.
Bobby, Vic, Johnny and Thelma, our four fans from the diner,
sit alone in the vast expanse of the centerfield bleachers.
All four wear Indian head dresses and have war paint on their
faces. The three men each have tom-toms. Thelma works on her
needlepoint.
JOHNNY
You read the Plain Dealer today?
They said this is gonna be the worst
Indian team we've had in years.
THELMA
Everybody laughs at the Indians now,
but there were other times. Even won
the Series in '48. Then Willie Mays
made that catch on Vic Wertz in the
'54 Series and Cleveland's never
been the same since.
JOHNNY
As the Indians go so goes Cleveland,
huh?
THELMA
If we ever lost the Indians, Cleveland
would die.
INT. MUNICIPAL STADIUM PRESS BOX - DAY
We get our fist glimpse of HARRY DOYLE, the Indians' 55-year-
old radio announcer. Harry's never walked past a bar in anger.
He's been with the Indians through thin and thinner.
DOYLE
(on the air)
Hello, everybody, Harry Doyle here,
welcoming all you Friends of the
Feather to another season of Indians
baseball.
(pouring some Jack
Daniels in his Coke)
A lotta new faces for the tribe this
year, as they take on the defending
American League champs, the New York
Yankees. And listen to the roar of
the crowd as the Indians takes the
field!
Doyle leans out the press box window with his mike, trying
to pick up the sound of a couple guys CLAPPING down below.
DOYLE
Yes, sir, they love this club here
in Cleveland.
Doyle takes a hit of his spiked Coke.
DOWN ON THE FIELD
A YANKEE HITTER
flies out to Hayes, who makes a "basket" catch a la Willie
Mays.
DOYLE (V.O.)
High fly ball, centerfield. Hayes
under it now... Oh, makes a basket
catch, Willie Mays style, and the
side is retired.
THE INDIAN DUGOUT
The team comes in off the field to much enthusiasm and back-
slapping.
BROWN
All right, way to look, way to look.
Nice catch, Hayes. Don't ever fuckin'
do it again. Okay, let's get it goin'!
DOYLE IN THE PRESS BOX
DOYLE
Bottom of the first, Willie Mays
Hayes to lead it off for the tribe.
HAYES
going through his warmup routine at the plate.
DOYLE (V.O.)
A lotta people say you can tell how
a season's gonna go by the first
hitter of the year. In the last
fifteen years, the Indians have never
had the season lead-off hitter reach
base.
Hayes is in the batter's box now. The Yankee pitcher winds
and fires. Hayes swings and hits a little dribbler toward
the second baseman, who races in and scoops it up bare-handed.
DOYLE (V.O.)
Hot shot toward the hole. Rudia knocks
it down, gets up, fires to first.
Too late! Hayes beats it!
Doyle leans out the window again trying to pick up some
cheering.
DOYLE
And so the string is broken. Maybe
things will turn around a little for
the Indians this year.
THE BLEACHERS
Our four fans (from here on known as the Bleacher Band),
overjoyed by Hayes' hit, start beating the tom-toms and
singing a fight song they've composed called "In the Land Of
Burning Waters" to the tune of the old Hamms Beer jingle.
BLEACHER BAND
In the land of burning waters, waters
Lurks the Injun nine, oh so fine, we
Love those mighty Redmen, Turn their
foes to dead men, Ummmmm.
FIRST BASE AREA
as Hayes comes back to the bag, where the Yankee FIRST BASEMAN
is waiting for him.
FIRST BASEMAN
Showed some real power on that one,
Slugger.
HAYES
I plan to get at least a double out
of it.
Hayes reaches in his back pocket and pulls out one of the
pairs of black leather gloves he bought earlier.
DOYLE (V.O.)
And now Hayes is putting on a pair
of black gloves, sending a little
message to the Yankees.
HAYES
(to the First Baseman)
Bought a hundred of these, one for
each base I plan to steal. Excuse
me, here, I gotta take my first step
toward the Hall of Fame.
Hayes takes his lead-off and crouches, ready to steal.
FIRST BASEMAN
You look real sharp, but you'll never
steal second with your shoe untied.
Hayes looks down at his shoe. It's not untied. He notices
too late that the PITCHER is throwing over to pick him off.
DOYLE (V.O.)
Brewster, quick move to first...
Hayes dives back for the bag, but never gets there; his face
smashing up against the First Baseman's glove, which is
already holding the ball.
DOYLE (V.O.)
He got him. Hayes is picked off.
FIRST BASEMAN
Nice base running, dildo. Hard to
get your thumb out of your ass with
the gloves on.
Hayes lies in the dust humiliated.
DOYLE
Well, so much for that.
Doyle takes a long pull on his Coke and we GO INTO A MONTAGE
depicting the Indians' progressive disintegration in this
game. We see:
A) THREE FIELDERS converging on a short pop fly into left
field. They all collide and go down in a heap as the ball
drops untouched.
B) DORN playing a grounder off his hip. He fumbles it, picks
it up, fumbles it again. No play.
C) TAYLOR crouched behind the plate, but up off his haunches,
ready to throw. We hear the voice of his thoughts.
TAYLOR'S VOICE
Guy's goin'. Gotta be goin'... get
the throw up. Don't bounce the damn
ball.
The runner on first takes off as the pitch comes in. Taylor
catches the ball and fires down to second. The ball sails
three feet over the second baseman's head and on into center
field. Taylor stands there, disgusted.
TAYLOR'S VOICE
Nice throw, dickhead.
D) CERRANO striking out on a curve ball. He bawls his bat
out on the way to the dugout.
E) THE THREE FIELDERS we saw before, converging on another
pop fly into short left. This time all three dive off at the
last instant to avoid a collision. Once again the ball drops
untouched.
END MONTAGE.
THE SCOREBOARD
It shows Yankees 4, Indians 0 after five innings.
DOYLE UP IN THE BOOTH
There are two empty Coca-Cola cups near the mike. He's working
on a third.
DOYLE
Top of the sixth. Rookie sensation,
Ricky Vaughn, on to pitch now. You
can close the book on Winters...
Vaughn stands on the mound rubbing up the baseball with the
same intensity we saw in the locker room.
TAYLOR
Easy does it, Ricky. We're only four
down. We're still in this thing.
PEPPER
Don't worry if you're off the plate
on a few pitches. Doesn't hurt to
put the fear of God in a hitter.
Vaughn nods and continues to grind the ball as Pepper and
Taylor leave. The Yankee Hitter steps in.
Vaughn winds and fires a screamer. Taylor has to leap high
to come down with it.
DOYLE (V.O.)
First pitch is a little high...
The Yankee Hitter is slightly unnerved by this pitch.
YANKEE HITTER
This guy kinda wild?
TAYLOR
I figure you got a 30% chance to
survive this at bat.
ANOTHER PITCH to the Yankee hitter. It's outside.
DOYLE (V.O.)
Ball four.
ANOTHER PITCH to a SECOND YANKEE HITTER. It's low.
DOYLE (V.O.)
Ball eight.
ANOTHER PITCH to a THIRD YANKEE HITTER. He has to jump over
it.
DOYLE (V.O.)
Low, and Vaughn has walked the bases
loaded on twelve straight pitches.
By the laws of probability, you'd
think one of those coulda drifted
over the plate.
THE BLEACHER BAND
Bobby gives the downbeat and, in honor of Vaughn, the three
men stand to pound out a version of "Wild Thing" on the tom-
toms. Bobby does the vocal.
BOBBY
Wild thing, You make my heart sing,
You walk everything.
Pepper has reached the mound...
PEPPER
Okay kid. I think we got 'em scared
enough now. Time to get a few of 'em
out.
Vaughn nods. He's plenty upset with himself.
PEPPER
Just relax, and keep the arm up on
top. Gotta throw strikes. No place
at the inn for this guy.
He gives Vaughn a pat on the butt, and goes back to the
dugout.
The Yankee hitter, HAYWOOD, stands in. He's the first baseman
who tagged Hayes out.
HAYWOOD
Hey, Taylor, what you doin' back up
here?
TAYLOR
Couldn't cut it in the Mexican League.
Vaughn, determined to throw a strike, winds and delivers.
The ball is a perfect strike, right down the middle.
Haywood crushes it to deep left field. Vaughn drops his head,
not even bothering to look.
VAUGHN
Oh, shit...
The ball lands in the second deck; a grand slam home run.
PEPPER
(to Brown)
Looked like a strike anyway. You
want me to go get him?
BROWN
No, let's see how he reacts.
Vaughn paces around on the mound, rubbing up the ball. The
next hitter, COLEMAN, steps in. Vaughn gets up on the rubber,
his face set. He winds up and fires one right into Coleman's
back. Coleman goes down in a hurry.
BROWN
Interesting.
PEPPER
At least he hit what he was aimin'
at.
BROWN
I think you can go get him now.
Both benches are up on the dugout steps ready to come out.
The only thing holding them back is that Coleman is being
tended to by the trainer.
The home plate umpire thumbs Vaughn out of the game. Vaughn
comes down to protest, but Pepper quickly grabs him and
hurries him off the field.
PEPPER
C'mon, kid. As soon as Coleman gets
up, he's gonna be lookin' for you.
Coleman finally gets to his feet, still a little shaken. He
looks around for Vaughn, but he's already disappeared into
the dugout. Coleman walks down to first under his own power.
Brown signals for a new pitcher and the players on both sides
begin to return to the benches.
VAUGHN
walking alone down the tunnel to the locker room. He angrily
knocks one of the overhead light bulbs out with his glove.
DOYLE IN THE PRESS BOX - LATER THAT NIGHT
He now has five empty cups next to the mike, plus a near-
empty bottle of Jack Daniel's.
DOYLE
So, a tough start for the Erie
warriors, as they drop a heartbreaker
to the Yankees, nine to nothing. The
Post Game Show was brought to you
by...
(searching for the
paper)
Christ. I can't find it. The hell
with it. This is Harry Doyle saying
good night, everybody, and Happy
Hunting.
With that Doyle passes out on his face.
RACHEL PHELPS
in her private box at the stadium. With her are Donovan and
Butler.
RACHEL
(getting up to leave)
We're off to a good start, gentlemen.
Let's keep it up.
We GO TO Donovan. He watches Rachel go in disgust.
INT. THE CASCADE BAR - NIGHT
Taylor, Hayes and Vaughn are in a booth, having a beer. Vaughn
is still in a funk.
VAUGHN
God, I was horse shit tonight.
TAYLOR
Only thing you got to be sorry about
was hittin' Coleman.
VAUGHN
What?
TAYLOR
If you wanted to send a message, it
shoulda been to Haywood. He hit the
damn homer. Coleman was just picking
his nose in the on-deck circle.
Vaughn nods slowly.
TAYLOR
Forget the other stuff. It coulda
happened to anybody. Besides, Haywood
didn't hit it that good. That ball
wouldn't have been out of a lotta
parks.
VAUGHN
Oh yeh, name one.
TAYLOR
(after a pause)
Yellowstone.
Vaughn just looks at Taylor a second and then smiles in spite
of himself.
VAUGHN
Shit...
EXT. CLEVELAND MUNICIPAL LIBRARY - DAY
We see Taylor walking up the steps and through the massive
front door.
INT. CLEVELAND LIBRARY - DAY
We PICK UP Taylor making his way past the circulation desk.
He glances around and finds what he's looking for: Lynn,
talking to one of the reference librarians. She finishes her
conversation and turns, to find herself face to face with
Taylor. She's wearing her tortoise-shell glasses.
LYNN
(hushed)
Jake, you shouldn't have come here.
TAYLOR
I was wonderin' why you'd give an
old friend a bum phone number.
LYNN
Let's talk in my office, okay?
TAYLOR
I don't wanna talk in your office.
Lynn starts to walk. We'll FOLLOW them as they make their
way through the library. Lynn tries to keep the conversation
hushed. Taylor could give a shit.
LYNN
I told you I don't think it's a good
idea for us to see each other.
TAYLOR
Why not?
LYNN
We don't have anything in common.
Sometimes I wonder if we ever did.
TAYLOR
What are you talkin' about? We were
both athletes, world class, hot for
each other. What more can you have
in common?
LYNN
I stopped bein' an athlete three
years ago. Books are my life now.
Jake suppresses a smile.
LYNN
Don't you dare laugh, Jake. In two
years I've put together one of the
best special collections departments
in the country.
TAYLOR
So what is it? You're still sore I
never read Moby Dick?
LYNN
You never read anything I asked you
to.
TAYLOR
Not like what's-his-name at the
restaurant?
LYNN
His name is Tom, and keep your voice
down.
TAYLOR
What do ya see in this guy?
LYNN
He's stable. He's intelligent... and
I've never found him in bed with a
stewardess.
TAYLOR
That's 'cause no stewardess would
have him. Wouldn't you rather be
with somebody who's in demand?
LYNN
Just like always, you don't take
anything seriously. Everything's a
joke to you.
TAYLOR
C'mon, Lynn, for Christ sake, I'm
just tryin' to loosen things up a
little. I'm gettin' frostbite here.
Lynn stops and turns to face him.
LYNN
Tom and I are getting married in the
fall.
Taylor is momentarily floored by the revelation.
TAYLOR
What? That's crazy, Lynn. I got plans
for us.
LYNN
(walking again)
What plans?
TAYLOR
I was gonna play another a year or
two, then we go to Hawaii, and have
a couple kids who grow up to be
Olympic champions.
LYNN
(stopping again)
How can you think stuff like that? I
haven't seen you in two years. You
never even wrote me a letter.
TAYLOR
I'm sorry, Lynn, but I wasn't exactly
proud of my situation. C'mon, you
didn't think about me at all since I
been gone?
LYNN
(walking again)
Not so loud, Jake.
TAYLOR
Remember the three nights we spent
on the beach in Vera Cruz? You have
nights like that with Mr. Briefcase?
LYNN
(stopping again)
What about the night you had in
Detroit with Miss Dairy Queen?
They're in the large reading room now.
TAYLOR
What was I supposed to do? She bet
me fifty bucks she had a better body
than you. I had to defend your honor.
LYNN
(whirling on him and
exploding)
What a bunch of bullshit!
(exasperated)
I have a much better body than she
does.
With this the whole reading room turns around and stares at
her. Lynn is mortified by her outburst. Taylor tries to smooth
it over.
TAYLOR
(addressing the library
patrons)
She's right. Take it from me, she
really does. I mean Miss Dairy Queen
has quantity, I give her that, but
the, ah, quality just isn't there.
Nice job, Jake. Lynn is still mortified.
TAYLOR
How many think Lynn oughta give me
another shot?
Most of the hands in the room shoot up.
TAYLOR
The ayes have it.
LYNN
(walking off again)
You haven't changed at all, have
you?
TAYLOR
I'm afraid I have or I wouldn't be
here. C'mon, Lynn, I don't wanna do
time for things that happened years
ago.
LYNN
(turning back to him)
I'm sorry, Jake. You'll always be
the little boy who wouldn't grow up.
Lynn starts off for her office door.
TAYLOR
Lynn, wait...
Lynn continues on into her office. As the door closes, we GO
TO Taylor's forlorn face.
INT. RACHEL PHELPS' OFFICE - DAY
Rachel is in closed-door session with Donovan.
RACHEL
A quarter of the season's gone, we're
15 and 24, seven games out of first.
Our attendance is just below 180,000.
That's bad, but not bad enough.
DONOVAN
Projected over the whole season, we
stand to wind up 36 games under .500
and 28 out of first. That should be
bad enough for anybody.
RACHEL
We finished 24 out last year and
still drew 890,000. When school's
out for the summer, attendance is
liable to rise. Plus, this team is
showing signs of improvement. I didn't
think we'd win 15 games all year.
Any ideas?
DONOVAN
On how we can get worse?
(sarcastic)
How about a series of fines for good
play? Maybe a $30,000 bonus to the
guy chosen Least Valuable Player.
RACHEL
This is no laughing matter, Donovan.
(pause)
I think maybe the problem is we're
coddling these guys too much.
As Donovan wonders what she means by that, we...
CUT TO:
INT. CLEVELAND AIRPORT - DAY
We PICK UP Taylor, Hayes, Vaughn and the other Indians coming
down a corridor to their plane.
HAYES
What's with this? We never leave
from this terminal.
TAYLOR
Maybe the other one's jammed up.
They come through the gate where they see two American
Airlines jets on the tarmac.
HAYES
(pointing to the jets)
Which one is ours?
GATEMAN
That one.
The gateman points off-screen. Suddenly, an old DC-3, with
the Indian logo on it, pulls into frame.
CUT TO:
INT. THE DC-3 - NIGHT
This one was obviously bought from the military. The seats
are 40's Army issue, and the ribs of the fuselage are exposed.
The plane is bobbing and lurching through a ferocious storm.
TAYLOR
What is this, Lou?
BROWN
Front office says it's an economy
measure, 'cause we're not drawin'
good.
TAYLOR
Well, they certainly have spared
every expense.
We PICK UP Cerrano crossing himself. Harris sees it.
HARRIS
Oh, so now you come around.
(pointing up)
He's not fooled.
Hayes sits petrified in his chair, his knuckles whitening on
the arm rest.
HAYES
Call the stewardess, Vaughn. I need
one of those bags.
VAUGHN
There aren't any stewardesses.
HAYES
I wonder if there's any pilots.
INT. MILWAUKEE STADIUM - PRESS BOX -DAY
We PICK UP Doyle doing the play-by-play of the Indians' next
game. He can barely keep his eyes open.
DOYLE
Two down, top of the ninth. Last
chance for the red and blue.
THE FIELD
The Brewer pitcher delivers and a Cleveland player hits a
ground ball to the Brewer Second Baseman who throws him out.
DOYLE (V.O.)
Bouncing ball to second. This should
be it. Collins up with it, on to
first, and the game is over.
DOYLE
in the press box again.
DOYLE
So, the Sons of Geronimo, still
suffering a bit from propeller lag,
are nipped by the Tigers tonight, 7
to 0. The only excitement for the
tribe provided by Rick Vaughn who
set an American League record by
throwing four wild pitches in one
inning. Congratulations, Rick. For
the Tigers, 5 runs, 9 hits, and no
errors. For the Indians, one run,
and let's see, one hit.
(to his Stat Man)
Is that all we got, one fucking hit?
STAT MAN
(whispering)
You can't say "fuckin'" on the air.
DOYLE
Don't worry about it. Nobody's
listening anyway.
INT. HOTEL BAR - NIGHT
Dorn and Harris are at one table; Taylor and Vaughn at one
across the way.
HARRIS
Who you got lined up tonight?
DORN
Where are we? Kansas City, right?
Gotta be Arlene
HARRIS
You call her?
DORN
Don't have to. She knows when I'm in
town.
TAYLOR AND VAUGHN
TAYLOR
I'm about ready to turn in. I've
anesthetized my knees enough.
A GUY from the bar approaches the table.
GUY
Excuse me, Mr. Vaughn, can I have
your autograph?
VAUGHN
Ah... yeh... sure.
(signing)
My first autograph. I couldn't give
these away a couple weeks ago.
GUY
I saw your record on the news. You
made their Hall of Shame.
Congratulations.
VAUGHN
(embarrassed)
Thanks.
TAYLOR
You're a celebrity now, Vaughn.
VAUGHN
I thought you had to do somethin'
good to be a celebrity.
TAYLOR
Not if you do it colorfully.
DORN AND HARRIS
DORN
(pointing to the door)
What'd I tell ya.
We GO TO the door to find ARLENE standing with two friends,
RENE and VICKI. ARLENE is a looker alright, 27, and seriously
built. She cases the room, spies Dorn and comes over to his
table.
ARLENE
Hi, Rodger. This is Vicki and Rene.
DORN
Hi, doll. This is Steve Harris.
ARLENE
Where's your buddy Gant?
DORN
(indicating Vaughn)
They cut him to make room for bristle
boy over there.
ARLENE
(looking over at Vaughn)
Is that Vaughn, the guy they call
Wild Thing?
DORN
(in disgust)
Yeh.
ARLENE
He's kinda cute. They say he could
be a big star.
DORN
What are you talkin' about? He
couldn't find the plate if it was
magnetized. He won't last the year.
ARLENE
He struck out five in a row before
the wild pitches.
(taking her leave)
Maybe I'll check him out.
DORN
(grabbing her)
Wait a minute, you're with me.
Taylor watches this exchange from across the room.
ARLENE
I don't remember you makin' any date.
DORN
Since when do I have to make a date?
Who's been showin' you this town the
last three years?
ARLENE
Ancient history, Rodger. I gotta
look out for myself now. I don't
have to be a slave to no .235 hitter.
ARLENE pulls away and heads for the jukebox as Dorn seethes.
She punches a button and we hear X's version of "WILD THING."
ARLENE sashays right up to Vaughn in time with the music.
ARLENE
Wild Thing, you make my heart sing.
ARLENE knows how to make the big entrance. Vaughn's slightly
overwhelmed.
DORN
taking this all in from across the room. Taylor comes up
next to him.
TAYLOR
Guess we're over with, eh, Dorn?
DORN
Speak for yourself, Taylor. I got a
couple good years left.
INT. THE INDIANS' DC-3 - NIGHT
We PICK UP Taylor in his seat, glasses on, reading something
by the light of a flashlight rigged up to the back of his
seat. We MOVE to reveal it -- the Classics Illustrated comic
book of "Moby Dick."
Hayes wanders by, an air-sick bag hanging around his neck.
HAYES
"Moby Dick?" What is that?
TAYLOR
It's one of the masterpieces of
American literature, that's all.
HAYES
Lynn put you on to this?
TAYLOR
Long time ago.
HAYES
Well, we're goin' to a club tonight.
You wanna come along?
TAYLOR
No, I got some more reading to do.
Taylor indicates a stack of Classic Comics next to him.
HAYES
What, you got a test or somethin'?
Why don't you just go over and see
her? Maybe she'll let you slide on a
couple of these.
TAYLOR
I might if I knew where she lives.
HAYES
Easy. Tail her home from the library.
TAYLOR
You mean sit in a car and wait for
her to come out? That's kinda
juvenile, don't you think?
HAYES
(as if that had
anything to do with
it)
Yeh.
EXT. CLEVELAND LIBRARY - LATE AFTERNOON
Taylor sits in his car, across the street from the employee
entrance of the library. He scrunches down a bit as Lynn
comes out of the building and heads for her car. She gets in
and we...
CUT TO:
SERIES OF SHOTS OF LYNN
driving through the city with Taylor following at a discrete
distance. Finally, Lynn pulls up outside an expensive-looking
townhouse. Taylor pulls up further down |
