David S. Ward
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
Spring training starts the twelfth.
How do you think the Indians will do
They don't look too good.
The other two shake their heads in contemplation of this
INT. MEN'S CLUB - DAY
A 45-year-old BUSINESS EXECUTIVE is talking to a fellow club
member over lunch.
They don't look particularly good,
EXT. CLEVELAND DOCKS - DAY
Two LONGSHOREMEN are talking while they unload a freighter.
I'll tell ya. They don't look very
EXT. CLEVELAND MUNICIPAL STADIUM - DAY
Down on the field, two KOREAN GROUNDSKEEPERS speak Korean as
they resod the outfield.
We TILT UP from the field to a glass-enclosed area on the
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
(checking his watch)
Thirty minutes late. Think she'll
She's got to. She's the damn owner
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.
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.
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.
(picking up a newspaper)
Unfortunately there are some in the
press who feel that...
(reading from the
"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.
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
This causes a few nervous glances in the room.
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.
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?
I never heard of half these guys.
And the ones I do know are way past
Most of these guys never had a prime.
(pointing to the sheet)
This guy here is dead.
Cross him off then.
(under his breath)
Let's not be hasty.
It's time to shake things up, Charlie.
Clear the board and start over.
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
I know you will, Charlie. That's why
I'm movin' you up to General Manager.
Rachel sticks out her hand. Donovan shakes it somewhat feebly,
bewildered by this whole development.
Well, that should do it for today.
Thank you, gentlemen. Let's get to
With that, Rachel gets up and breezes out of the room with
her entourage, leaving Donovan and the others dumbfounded.
(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.
Mr. Donovan, Mrs. Phelps would like
to see you.
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
Come on in, Charlie. Have a seat.
I'm glad you called me in. I'm still
unclear on a couple things
Oh, really? Like what?
Well, if I'm the G.M., who's gonna
be the Manager?
I was thinking of Lou Brown.
He's managed the Toledo Mud Hens of
the International League for the
last 30 years.
This is hardly an impressive credential to Donovan.
I think he'll fit right in with our
What exactly is our team concept?
That's what I wanted to talk to you
about. I want to put together a team
that will help us relocate to Miami.
What do you mean?
(referring to the
Some of these guys are furniture
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.
Mrs. Phelps, you can't just up and
move a team on a whim...
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.
Even so, the League'll never let us
leave Cleveland. We got a lease with
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.
If we play bad enough, we should be
able to come in under that.
What are you saying? You want us to
No, we've been losing. What I want
us to do is finish dead last.
Donovan is stunned. He casts around helplessly for some
Mister Phelps would never have
approved of this.
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.
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
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
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.
It's Charlie Donovan calling from his office in Cleveland.
We CUT BACK AND FORTH between the two as we will in subsequent
Hello, Jake? This is Charlie Donovan,
new G.M. of the Cleveland Indians.
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
Who is this?
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
Taylor struggles to get a look up at the girl on top of him.
(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.
Tolbert? Tolbert? Screw it.
Taylor hangs up, leaving Donovan staring into his phone.
Taylor looks up to see TOLBERT standing in the doorway.
Who the hell were you talkin' to?
On Taylor's reaction, we...
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.
Lines three and four are waiting for
you, Mr. Brown. One guy about the TR-
(picking up the phone)
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:
I don't know...
What do ya mean you don't know? This
is a chance to manage in the big
Lemme think it over, will ya, Charlie.
I got a guy on the other line about
some whitewalls. I'll talk to ya
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.
Rick, we heard about your pitching
out at Portland last year...
Good-looking, muscular, 19-year-old. Sleeveless black T-shirt.
Talking on a wall phone in a nondescript room.
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.
We'd still like to take a look at ya
at our spring camp in Arizona, March
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.
Yeh, well, I'm not sure I can make
it by then.
Don't worry, we're gettin' you out
on a sort of work furlough deal. Any
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.
Look, Lou, you been in baseball thirty
years. Don't you wanna advance some?
(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
Well, what are you really worried
about? The money?
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."
I don't think that's gonna be a
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.
We don't have any millionaires.
Well then, bonus babies or whatever
Don't have any bonus babies either.
Don't you have any proven major league
Not that I know of.
Well, then... I'll be up in a couple
Sounds like my kinda team. Have my
Brown hangs up.
(to the others)
Guess I really put the screws to
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
returning to the dugout at the end of the inning, wondering
what the hell he's doin' here.
Taylor, telephone for you.
Taylor goes to the phone in the clubhouse tunnel.
Jake, Charlie Donovan again.
Oh yeh, Charlie, look, I'm sorry
about this morning...
No problem. Look, Jake, camp starts
on the first. Can you make it?
You been stayin' in shape down there?
Oh hell, yeh, I work out every day.
I thought so. See ya in Arizona.
Donovan hangs up. Taylor shoots a fist in the air, and we...
approaching his MANAGER.
Let's go, Taylor. You're up.
Luis, I'm not gonna be playin'
anymore. I got a tryout in the States.
Fine. Leave your uniform.
But I changed at the motel.
Leave your uniform.
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.
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:
He gets out of a taxi and goes to the trunk to get his bats
This looks like Jake Taylor.
Brown turns around from a conversation with Temple.
He was an Allstar in Boston, wasn't
Wish we had him two years ago.
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.
What happened to the private rooms?
We're on an austerity program. This
is what happens when you finish 24
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.
I think it's Cerrano. Defected from
Cuba. Wanted religious freedom.
What's his religion?
BLACK AND TAN ROLLS-ROYCE
pulling into the parking lot. Out steps RODGER DORN, high-
priced third baseman. Brown eyes him with vague disapproval.
Thought you didn't have any high-
I forgot about Dorn, 'cause he's
only high-priced. Got him as a free
agent three years ago.
Still hits the ball pretty well,
Yeh, he just can't field it.
Dorn pulls his golf clubs out of the car.
We'll shape him up.
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.
Don't recognize this guy.
Hayes strolls up and introduces himself.
Say hey, Willie Mays Hayes here. I
play like Mays and run like Hayes.
Lou Brown. Nice to meet ya, Hayes.
Thanks. Well, I gotta get my stuff...
Hayes hustles off toward his car.
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.
Look at this fuckin' guy.
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.
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
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
(offering his hand)
Vaughn shakes it and nods. Says nothing.
So, you just gonna settle for toilet
brush, or you got another name?
Vaughn. Rick Vaughn.
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.
Say hey! How ya doin'? Willie Mays
(pointing to Vaughn)
Hayes doesn't quite know what to make of Vaughn.
What the hell league you been playin'
Never heard of it. How'd you wind up
I stole a car.
On Hayes' look, we...
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.
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.
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...
I mean it.
On a locker room full of uneasy faces, we...
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.
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
11.9 Taylor. Not bad if you'd fallen
As Taylor tries to catch his breath, Dorn and a relief pitcher
named Gant approach the starting line for the next trial.
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.
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.
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.
C'mon, Hayes, let's do 'em right.
Hey, my philosophy is no pain, no
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.
How the knees holdin' up, Jake?
Great. Never been better.
Mobility's good? No problem gettin'
off the throw to second?
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
Around the league they're wrong.
I'm gonna have to put you to the
test, ya know. So, I want the absolute
truth here. Are you 100 percent?
Yeh. Would I bullshit about somethin'
You better if you wanna make this
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
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.
Well, you may run like Mays, but you
hit like shit.
My stroke'll come back once I get
(referring to some
Never did get warmed up last year.
Hit .211 at Maine. I looked him up.
I think Mr. Hayes shows some promise.
His speed could be a big asset.
For what? Running back to the dugout?
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.
Hey, no problem.
The next pitch comes in. Hayes swings and pops it up.
As he gets down to do his twenty, Brown turns to Temple.
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.
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
Brown stands frozen a second, contemplating his brush with
eternity, then turns to Pepper.
Sounded like it.
Sorry, Lou, I wasn't quite expectin'
that much octane.
Brown turns to the Clubhouse Man who's holding a speed gun.
96 miles an hour.
Better teach him some control before
he kills somebody.
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.
C'mon, Dorn, get in front of the
(making like a
Don't give me this ole' bullshit.
I took one of these in the eye last
year. Nearly lost my sight.
I'm deeply moved. Every time you
play it off your hip, you give me
What! That's Little League shit.
So is this.
Brown strikes an effeminate fielding position, like Betty
Grable shying from a mouse. Dorn burns.
in the batting cage, knocking the cover off pitch after pitch
with his black bat.
Jesus, this guy hits a ton. How come
nobody else picked up on him?
(to the batting
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.
Dorn approaches Brown at the cage.
Lou, I wanna have a word with you
(whipping out his
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...
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.
We got anybody left playin' baseball
INT. THE LOCKER ROOM - AFTERNOON
Taylor, Hayes and Vaughn drag in, looking beat from the day's
Shit, the way I played today, I
wouldn't be surprised if they red-
tagged me already.
What do ya mean?
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
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.
What is that stuff?
(pointing to them in
Crisco, Bardahl, Vagisil. Any one of
'em will give you another 2-3 inches
drop on your curve ball.
Vaughn can't believe this.
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
You put snot on the ball?
At my age, you put anything you can
find on it. I haven't got an arm
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.
What are you doin' there, Pedro?
Bats. They are sick.
So are mine. Is somethin' goin'
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.
Maybe he's the pagan saint of
I offer him cigars and gin. He will
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.
I wouldn't leave this gin sittin'
around out here with this group.
(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.
Sequence omitted from original script.
compressing and detailing the progress of spring training.
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.
doing push-ups at night. He's the only one left on the field,
except Temple, who supervises.
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.
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.
holding a mirror under the vents on his locker door to get a
peek inside to see if there's a red tag there.
taking a hard ground ball off the chest. Brown applauds.
Dorn is pissed.
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
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.
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.
flailing away again at a curve ball. This and the remaining
shots are all in exhibition games.
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.
with a runner on third, winding up and throwing a pitch four
feet over Taylor's head. The run scores.
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?"
waiting for a throw at the plate. Just as he's about to catch
it, the runner knocks him flat.
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
This is final cut down day, right?
Yeh, better get your snake ready,
No, I'm goin' cold turkey today. My
hands are too screwed up to hold it
Hayes reveals a pair of red and cut hands.
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.
I don't wanna go in there.
Whatever happens, keep it to yourself
until you're outta the locker room.
Don't celebrate in front of guys who
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.
opens locker, slumps on stool. He's a goner.
HAYES AND VAUGHN
the two rookies, are still hanging back.
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
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.
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.
INT. BROWN'S OFFICE - LATE AFTERNOON
Vaughn goes right in without knocking and leans on Brown's
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.
Good, I like that kinda spirit in a
player. The only problem is, I didn't
What do you mean?
I think somebody's been havin' fun
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
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.
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.
Forget about Dorn. You got other
things to do.
Packing for Cleveland.
Taylor gives him a wide smile. Vaughn finally allows himself
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.
You see the new lineup the Indians
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.
I don't know the majority of these
EXT. CLEVELAND DOCKS - DAY
The two Longshoremen again, looking at a paper.
Who are these fuckin' guys?
EXT. CLEVELAND MUNICIPAL STADIUM - DAY
The two Korean Groundskeepers again, dragging the infield.
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
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.
Really got all of that one.
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.
What are you gonna have?
I don't know. What language is this?
They got patty melts over there?
Forget it. I'll order. Let's have a
The three raise their wine glasses.
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.
What is it? The chick?
That's my wife.
Does she know it?
I mean she woulda been if I hadn't
screwed it up. Who's that guy she's
I don't know. He's not wearing a
You want me to beat the shit out of
What does she do?
She's a librarian.
A librarian? Shit, I gotta start
INT. CLEVELAND RESTAURANT - NIGHT
A WAITER approaches the table where Lynn and her date are
sharing a dessert.
Miss Wells, there's a telephone call
Lynn is somewhat surprised, but gets up to take the call. We
FOLLOW her to the pay phone in the hall.
Hello, Lynn. It's Jake.
Jake? How did you know I was here?
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
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.
You look great.
Lynn, as is often the case with Jake, is both charmed and
put-out. She goes with put-out.
Thanks. What are you doin' here?
Aren't you supposed to be in Mexico
I'm playin' with the Indians again.
Back in the Bigs.
That's great. I'm happy for you,
And she is. Not so sure about herself, though.
I gotta get back...
Wait a minute. What's your number. I
tried calling you at home, but you're
My life is different from when you
Meaning what? That I don't know you
Couldn't we talk about this some
other time? I really gotta...
Okay, just gimme your number.
I don't think that's a good idea.
Why not? Because of the guy you're
with? What is he, a banker?
Lawyer. Please, Jake, he's watching
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.
The number, Lynn...
All right. 555-9314.
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.
What's the number again?
(looking at a piece
What is this place?
Furnished apartment building owned
by the Indians. We get special rates.
With what we're makin' we'll need
The Cabbie pulls to a stop and points to the other side of
Taylor and the others turn to see a dismal, run-down building
with a neon sign that says "The Turk."
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.
You got anybody workin' there named
VOICE ON PHONE
Never heard of her.
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.
Take it easy. We got 162 of these to
Lou Brown enters the locker room.
All right, let's gather 'round.
The players turn their attention to 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.
Aren't we gonna have a prayer? I
mean we're not all savages like
You guys go ahead. I belong to the
church of three-run homers.
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.
Have to wake up bats.
Disgusted, Harris and the others turn back to their prayers.
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,
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
You read the Plain Dealer today?
They said this is gonna be the worst
Indian team we've had in years.
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.
As the Indians go so goes Cleveland,
If we ever lost the Indians, Cleveland
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.
(on the air)
Hello, everybody, Harry Doyle here,
welcoming all you Friends of the
Feather to another season of Indians
(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
Doyle leans out the press box window with his mike, trying
to pick up the sound of a couple guys CLAPPING down below.
Yes, sir, they love this club here
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
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-
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
Bottom of the first, Willie Mays
Hayes to lead it off for the tribe.
going through his warmup routine at the plate.
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
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.
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
And so the string is broken. Maybe
things will turn around a little for
the Indians this year.
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.
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.
Showed some real power on that one,
I plan to get at least a double out
Hayes reaches in his back pocket and pulls out one of the
pairs of black leather gloves he bought earlier.
And now Hayes is putting on a pair
of black gloves, sending a little
message to the Yankees.
(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.
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.
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.
He got him. Hayes is picked off.
Nice base running, dildo. Hard to
get your thumb out of your ass with
the gloves on.
Hayes lies in the dust humiliated.
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
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.
Guy's goin'. Gotta be goin'... get
the throw up. Don't bounce the damn
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.
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
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.
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.
Easy does it, Ricky. We're only four
down. We're still in this thing.
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.
First pitch is a little high...
The Yankee Hitter is slightly unnerved by this pitch.
This guy kinda wild?
I figure you got a 30% chance to
survive this at bat.
ANOTHER PITCH to the Yankee hitter. It's outside.
ANOTHER PITCH to a SECOND YANKEE HITTER. It's low.
ANOTHER PITCH to a THIRD YANKEE HITTER. He has to jump over
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.
Wild thing, You make my heart sing,
You walk everything.
Pepper has reached the mound...
Okay kid. I think we got 'em scared
enough now. Time to get a few of 'em
Vaughn nods. He's plenty upset with himself.
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
The Yankee hitter, HAYWOOD, stands in. He's the first baseman
who tagged Hayes out.
Hey, Taylor, what you doin' back up
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.
The ball lands in the second deck; a grand slam home run.
Looked like a strike anyway. You
want me to go get him?
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.
At least he hit what he was aimin'
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.
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.
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.
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
(searching for the
Christ. I can't find it. The hell
with it. This is Harry Doyle saying
good night, everybody, and Happy
With that Doyle passes out on his face.
in her private box at the stadium. With her are Donovan and
(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.
God, I was horse shit tonight.
Only thing you got to be sorry about
was hittin' Coleman.
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.
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
Oh yeh, name one.
(after a pause)
Vaughn just looks at Taylor a second and then smiles in spite
EXT. CLEVELAND MUNICIPAL LIBRARY - DAY
We see Taylor walking up the steps and through the massive
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.
Jake, you shouldn't have come here.
I was wonderin' why you'd give an
old friend a bum phone number.
Let's talk in my office, okay?
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.
I told you I don't think it's a good
idea for us to see each other.
We don't have anything in common.
Sometimes I wonder if we ever did.
What are you talkin' about? We were
both athletes, world class, hot for
each other. What more can you have
I stopped bein' an athlete three
years ago. Books are my life now.
Jake suppresses a smile.
Don't you dare laugh, Jake. In two
years I've put together one of the
best special collections departments
in the country.
So what is it? You're still sore I
never read Moby Dick?
You never read anything I asked you
Not like what's-his-name at the
His name is Tom, and keep your voice
What do ya see in this guy?
He's stable. He's intelligent... and
I've never found him in bed with a
That's 'cause no stewardess would
have him. Wouldn't you rather be
with somebody who's in demand?
Just like always, you don't take
anything seriously. Everything's a
joke to you.
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.
Tom and I are getting married in the
Taylor is momentarily floored by the revelation.
What? That's crazy, Lynn. I got plans
I was gonna play another a year or
two, then we go to Hawaii, and have
a couple kids who grow up to be
How can you think stuff like that? I
haven't seen you in two years. You
never even wrote me a letter.
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
Not so loud, Jake.
Remember the three nights we spent
on the beach in Vera Cruz? You have
nights like that with Mr. Briefcase?
What about the night you had in
Detroit with Miss Dairy Queen?
They're in the large reading room now.
What was I supposed to do? She bet
me fifty bucks she had a better body
than you. I had to defend your honor.
(whirling on him and
What a bunch of bullshit!
I have a much better body than she
With this the whole reading room turns around and stares at
her. Lynn is mortified by her outburst. Taylor tries to smooth
(addressing the library
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.
How many think Lynn oughta give me
Most of the hands in the room shoot up.
The ayes have it.
(walking off again)
You haven't changed at all, have
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
(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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
On how we can get worse?
How about a series of fines for good
play? Maybe a $30,000 bonus to the
guy chosen Least Valuable Player.
This is no laughing matter, Donovan.
I think maybe the problem is we're
coddling these guys too much.
As Donovan wonders what she means by that, we...
INT. CLEVELAND AIRPORT - DAY
We PICK UP Taylor, Hayes, Vaughn and the other Indians coming
down a corridor to their plane.
What's with this? We never leave
from this terminal.
Maybe the other one's jammed up.
They come through the gate where they see two American
Airlines jets on the tarmac.
(pointing to the jets)
Which one is ours?
The gateman points off-screen. Suddenly, an old DC-3, with
the Indian logo on it, pulls into frame.
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.
What is this, Lou?
Front office says it's an economy
measure, 'cause we're not drawin'
Well, they certainly have spared
We PICK UP Cerrano crossing himself. Harris sees it.
Oh, so now you come around.
He's not fooled.
Hayes sits petrified in his chair, his knuckles whitening on
the arm rest.
Call the stewardess, Vaughn. I need
one of those bags.
There aren't any stewardesses.
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.
Two down, top of the ninth. Last
chance for the red and blue.
The Brewer pitcher delivers and a Cleveland player hits a
ground ball to the Brewer Second Baseman who throws him out.
Bouncing ball to second. This should
be it. Collins up with it, on to
first, and the game is over.
in the press box again.
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?
You can't say "fuckin'" on the air.
Don't worry about it. Nobody's
INT. HOTEL BAR - NIGHT
Dorn and Harris are at one table; Taylor and Vaughn at one
across the way.
Who you got lined up tonight?
Where are we? Kansas City, right?
Gotta be Arlene
You call her?
Don't have to. She knows when I'm in
TAYLOR AND VAUGHN
I'm about ready to turn in. I've
anesthetized my knees enough.
A GUY from the bar approaches the table.
Excuse me, Mr. Vaughn, can I have
Ah... yeh... sure.
My first autograph. I couldn't give
these away a couple weeks ago.
I saw your record on the news. You
made their Hall of Shame.
You're a celebrity now, Vaughn.
I thought you had to do somethin'
good to be a celebrity.
Not if you do it colorfully.
DORN AND HARRIS
(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
Hi, Rodger. This is Vicki and Rene.
Hi, doll. This is Steve Harris.
Where's your buddy Gant?
They cut him to make room for bristle
boy over there.
(looking over at Vaughn)
Is that Vaughn, the guy they call
He's kinda cute. They say he could
be a big star.
What are you talkin' about? He
couldn't find the plate if it was
magnetized. He won't last the year.
He struck out five in a row before
the wild pitches.
(taking her leave)
Maybe I'll check him out.
Wait a minute, you're with me.
Taylor watches this exchange from across the room.
I don't remember you makin' any date.
Since when do I have to make a date?
Who's been showin' you this town the
last three years?
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.
Wild Thing, you make my heart sing.
ARLENE knows how to make the big entrance. Vaughn's slightly
taking this all in from across the room. Taylor comes up
next to him.
Guess we're over with, eh, 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.
"Moby Dick?" What is that?
It's one of the masterpieces of
American literature, that's all.
Lynn put you on to this?
Long time ago.
Well, we're goin' to a club tonight.
You wanna come along?
No, I got some more reading to do.
Taylor indicates a stack of Classic Comics next to him.
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.
I might if I knew where she lives.
Easy. Tail her home from the library.
You mean sit in a car and wait for
her to come out? That's kinda
juvenile, don't you think?
(as if that had
anything to do with
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
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 the street and watches
her go inside, debating whether to go in after her.
INT. CLEVELAND BAR - EARLY EVENING
Taylor's having a beer, still trying to decide whether to go
see her or not.
pulling up outside the townhouse he saw Lynn go into. He
goes up the stairs and knocks on the door.
Lynn answers, looking more dressed up than when she left the
library. She's surprised to see Taylor.
Look, Lynn, I'm sorry I followed you
home but I wanna...
This isn't my place...
Whose place is it?
Before Lynn can answer, Tom appears at the door.
Who's there, love?
Oh, Mr. Taylor, right?
I remember you from the restaurant.
Lynn's told me a lot about you. Why
don't you come in for a while?
Nah, that's o.k., I got some things
Yeh, he's gotta be goin'...
No, really, come on in for a drink.
Before Taylor can beg off further, Tom ushers him inside and
closes the door. In the room are two other couples: ARTHUR
HOLLOWAY, a senior partner in Tom's firm and his wife CLAIRE,
and BRENT BOWDEN, another lawyer in the firm and a
contemporary of Tom's. His wife is JANICE. This is a very
Excuse me, everybody, this is Jake
(making the intros)
Jake, Arthur and Claire Holloway
Brent and Janice Bowden. Jake is a
professional baseball player.
Polite nods from the group, except for Janice, who seems
So, Jake, what brings you here this
I, ah, just had a couple books I
wanted to discuss with Lynn. I thought
this was her place.
Well, it soon will be.
Yeh, I heard you guys were engaged.
Taylor sticks out his hand. Tom's not sure whether Taylor's
putting him on or not. He shakes anyway.
Thank you. What can I get you to
Beer'll be fine.
Tom goes off to get the beer.
What team do you play for, Jake?
Here in Cleveland? I didn't know
they still had a team.
Yeh, we have uniforms and everything.
It's really great.
(handing Jake his
They're last right now, but hopefully
moving up, eh, Jake?
Tom clinks his glass with Jake's beer, the slight
condescension in his manner not lost on Taylor. Lynn is
uncomfortable with this whole situation. Janice moves a bit
closer to Taylor. It's obvious she finds him attractive.
I'm told that baseball players make
very good salaries these days.
That depends on how good they are, I
How good are you?
Lynn is irritated by Janice's directness.
I make the League minimum.
Tom and the others react as if Taylor's just announced a
death in the family.
He was one of the best in baseball
until he had problems with his knees.
Everyone is somewhat surprised by Lynn's quick defense of
Taylor, including Lynn herself.
What are you going to do when your
career ends? I mean you can't play
baseball forever, can you?
Somethin'll come up.
I don't know, I was thinkin' of goin'
to Hawaii, and having a couple of
kids who grow up to be Olympic
Oh really. In what event?
Swimming. Maybe the two hundred meter
Individual Medley. I figure it oughta
be big by then.
Jack just nods. He never heard of it.
You got the girl picked out?
I did, but I wasn't smart enough to
hold on to her.
Lynn's eyes drop to the floor.
You used to be an athlete, didn't
(not wanting to pursue
What did you do?
Two Hundred Individual medley.
Alternate on the '80 Olympic Team.
A tense silence settles on the group.
Well, I gotta be goin'. Nice to have
met you all.
Taylor exchanges a quick glance with Lynn and heads for the
Let me walk you out.
Tom accompanies Taylor to the door, out of earshot of the
Thanks for the beer.
Don't mention it.
I'll let you know if I land a good
job. I know you're concerned about
Yeh, well, I just wanted Lynn to
know what she would've had ahead of
Tom sticks out his hand. The two men shake to keep up
appearances for their onlookers across the room.
Stay away from her.
Suck my dick.
INT. VAUGHN'S ROOM - DAY
Vaughn and Hayes are watching a soap opera on an old black
and white TV. Pepper pops his head in.
Lou wants to see you down at the
Vaughn looks somewhat apprehensively at Hayes.
INT. LOU BROWN'S OFFICE - DAY
Brown is lost in thought at his desk. Vaughn appears at the
door like a boy expecting a spanking.
C'mon in, Rick.
Vaughn comes in and takes a seat. He's worried.
Rick, I'm not gonna beat around the
bush here. You got a great arm, one
of the best I've ever seen, but your
control hasn't come around like we
hoped it would.
Vaughn nods contritely.
Now, there are a lotta pitchers that
started out wild and, after workin'
it out in the minors, for a while,
went on to great careers.
(pointing to a picture
on the wall)
Take Sandy Koufax there...
Vaughn looks at the picture on the wall. He squints slightly.
Brown notices it.
What about Koufax?
Never mind Koufax.
Brown quickly prints some big letters on a legal pad and
goes to stand about fifteen feet from Vaughn.
Read these letters, starting at the
Vaughn balks a second and then concentrates on the pad,
squinting. Unsettled, he squints harder. He even tries closing
Can't read it, can you?
Vaughn shakes his head no.
You gonna send me to the minors?
Sequence omitted from original script.
INT. CLEVELAND LOCKER ROOM - NIGHT
Taylor, Hayes, Vaughn and the others are dressing out for
the game. Vaughn is wearing his glasses.
These things make me look ridiculous.
Drop in the bucket, Vaughn.
Meanwhile, Cerrano is sharpening a long knife at his locker.
What's that for?
Gin and cigarettes not enough for Jo-
Buu. I still can no hit curva ball
for sheet. I hafta make a sacrifice
Sacrifice? You mean like something
Si. I kill unborn children.
Not while I'm here you're not. That's
Cerrano pulls the unborn chicken out of his pocket -- a common
store bought egg. Harris is a little embarrassed at his
Cerrano touches the egg to his forehead, then places it on
his altar. In one swift motion he slams the knife down on
it, cutting it into two perfect halves. Taylor and the others
are agape at a knife sharp enough to do this. As the yolk
spreads out on the altar, Brown emerges from his office.
All right, let's hit the field.
The locker room quickly empties, leaving one man behind --
Harris. He looks around to make sure everyone is gone, then
tiptoes over to Cerrano's locker. Screwing up his courage,
he picks up Jo-Buu's cup of gin.
Here's looking at ya, Jo-Buu.
He bolts it down, then backs into the middle of the room,
waiting at the ready, as if half-expecting a bolt of
lightning. When nothing happens, he gloats at the fetish
doll in triumph.
strutting out of the dugout, feeling like a million bucks.
As he emerges onto the field, a Hitter in the batting cage
swings and misses, the bat slipping out of his hands. Away
it flies, whirling off down the third base line in a wide
arc. It hits Harris in the back of the head and knocks him
watching the game from the dugout, a zip-lock baggie full of
ice-cubes strapped to his head.
We're in the ninth, two down, man on
first and the Indians clinging to a
one run lead. VAUGHAN, one out away
from his first major league victory...
Sequence omitted from original script.
Vaughn, wearing his new glasses, paces the mound nervously.
He goes to the rosin bag, wipes his brow, shakes out his
arm. Finally up on the rubber, he gets the sign from Taylor,
goes to his stretch, checks the runner and fires to the plate.
THE OAKLAND BATTER
swings and hits a grounder between third and short. Dorn
moves to his left, but the ball goes past his glove and into
left field. There is some question as to whether Dorn really
gave it a full effort.
Bouncing ball, Dorn can't get to it,
into left field, base hit. Clarke
digging around second, he'll make it
to third, and the A's have runners
at the corners.
Vaughn stomps around on the mound, obviously upset. He glares
at Dorn a beat before getting back on the mound. Dorn's face
is non-commital. Brown paces in the dugout.
You want me to go get him?
No, he's come this far. Let's see if
he can finish it.
Doyle downs a little more rum and coke in the press box.
Vaughn in a little trouble here, but
I'll tell ya, these Cleveland fans
are great. Listen to them get behind
Doyle imitates the sound of a crowd cheering with his own
voice, punctuated by whistles and clapping.
THE BLEACHER BAND
Thelma calmly knits her blanket with the scores of all the
Indians' games stitched into it, the Madame La Farge of
Cleveland. The boys, however, are a little restless.
We need some defense here. Maybe we
oughta do a wave.
C'mon, Indians don't do waves. Let's
keep this thing pure.
What harm could it do?
The next Oakland hitter, steps in. Taylor flashes a sign.
Vaughn comes to the stretch and delivers. High, ball one.
The runner on first goes down to second without a throw, the
pitch being too tough to handle.
Runner goes, high, Taylor has no
play. The go-ahead and potential
winning run is in scoring position.
Taylor walks out in front of the plate to throw the ball
back to Vaughn.
Forget the runners, Ricky, get this
guy at the plate.
Taylor goes back behind the dish. Vaughn gets up on the
rubber. He winds and comes to the plate. Way high this time.
High ball two, and the crowd doesn't
like that call one bit.
Doyle imitates the sound of a crowd booing. Taylor, meanwhile,
has gone out to the mound.
Okay, let's get nasty here, Rick.
You know he's lookin' for this pitch.
Gotta come up with somethin' studly.
Fuckin' Dorn. Game shoulda been over
by now. Dorn coulda had that ball.
He tanked it on purpose.
This isn't the California Penal
League, Vaughn. We're professionals
here. We don't tank a play for
personal reasons, so cut the crybaby
shit. You've pitched a helluva game.
You wanna finish it, don't ya?
Can you give me a strike on this
Yeh, but I don't know if there'll be
much on it. My arm feels like jello.
Just make sure it's over the plate.
I want him to swing.
The last time I did that, the guy
hit one that hasn't landed yet.
Don't worry, I'll take care of it.
Taylor starts back toward the plate, and then stops.
By the way, I been meaning to ask
you. Why'd you steal that car?
I was bored.
Next time you might think about takin'
in a movie or somethin'.
Vaughn permits himself a little smile and release from the
tension. Taylor smiles back, and trots off toward the plate.
THE BLEACHER BAND
Bobby and Vic are doing a two-man wave. When one sits down,
the other stands up.
has settled in behind the plate now. He starts talking to
the batter, Rexman.
Helluva situation we got goin' here,
huh, Rexman? Two on, two out, you're
down by a run in the ninth. You got
a chance to be a hero on national
television, so whatever you do, don't
blow it. They'll be callin' you a
gutless choke artist all over America.
Rexman shoots Taylor a wicked glance.
You're a free agent at the end of
the year. Not much demand for gutless
choke artists. What are you hittin'
now? .230? .240?
Hey, nice average. Uh oh, on second
thought, that still means you got a
seven outta ten chance of goin' in
Rexman, slightly irritated, backs out of the box.
Shut up, will ya, Taylor?
Hey, I can understand not wantin' to
talk about baseball when your nuts
are in a vice like this.
Rexman gets back in the box.
By the way, I saw your wife at the
Capri Lounge last night. Hell of a
dancer. You must be very proud.
Rexman is trying to ignore Taylor, but failing badly. Taylor
flashes a sign to Vaughn. Vaughn goes into his windup.
But that guy she was with... I mean
I'm sure he's a close personal friend
of yours and all, but tell me...
Vaughn releases his pitch.
...Why was he wearing her panties on
Rexman, completely unnerved, takes a feeble swing and hits a
high pop-up out in front of the plate.
Uh oh, Rexie, I don't think that
one's got the distance. Maybe if the
wind comes up.
Taylor moves out two steps and makes the catch easily, ending
Taylor rushes out to congratulate Vaughn. The players exchange
handshakes and high fives, as Brown watches from the dugout.
It's startin' to come together,
Pepper. It's startin' to come
EXT. DORN MANSION - AFTERNOON
Taylor pulls up outside and walks up to the door. Suzanne,
Dorn's wife, answers.
Oh hi, Jake, how are you?
Fine, Suzanne, can I have a quick
word with Rodger?
Sure, c'mon in, he's in the den.
I'll get some coffee.
We FOLLOW Taylor into the luxurious den, where we find Dorn
watching his wide screen TV in a smoking jacket.
Hey, Jake, old boy, what brings you
I just wanta tell ya somethin', but
I didn't want to do it in front of
the whole team.
Sure, go ahead.
I don't know what your problem is,
(bending close to
...if I ever see you tank another
play like you did tonight, I'll cut
off your nuts and stuff 'em down
your fuckin' throat.
Dorn looks at Taylor for some sign that he's kidding. He
doesn't get one.
Taylor turns and walks on out, as we go to Dorn's stunned
face. Suzanne walks in with a tray.
INT. INDIANS' LOCKER ROOM - DAY
The Indians are undressing after practice.
Why the hell are we havin' practice
during the All-Star break?
I heard the Big Lady upstairs ordered
It's hotter than shit in here. What
happened to the air conditioning?
INT. TRAINING ROOM - DAY
We go to Brown, naked and dragging from the heat. He
approaches the whirlpool and turns on the water.
Oh man, this old body can use a soak.
Forget it. It's not workin' again.
Brown flips on a switch. The whirlpool makes some grinding
noises and then quits altogether.
Damn it, I thought they were gonna
replace this thing.
Harris shouts over from the showers where he's just turned
on the water.
Hey, there's no hot water in here.
She's at it again. I've had it with
this nickel and dime stuff.
(storming out of the
I'm gonna get the Bitch on the phone.
Brown is stopped short by the sight of Rachel Phelps standing
in the middle of the locker room as various unclad players
dive for cover.
You wanted to see the Bitch?
Don't you think you oughta cover
yourself with a towel first, Mr.
There aren't any towels, and I'm too
old to be diving under benches.
Well, I can take it if you can.
What happened to the new whirlpool
we were supposed to get?
Revenue problems have forced us to
cut back on equipment. We'll simply
have to fix the old one.
You fixed it six times already. And
now there's no hot water in the
The pipes in this building are old
and rusted. We're replacing them,
but it's a long, expensive process.
How am I supposed to keep my players
healthy with cold water and no therapy
Your players will just have to get a
little tougher. What are they, a
bunch of pansies?
Immediately, 30 arms shoot up behind her in the Italian "up-
yours" gesture. She turns around, but by then the players
have quickly returned to normal positions.
Over 162 games even tough guys get
sprains, sore arms, muscle pulls...
It's only temporary. Besides, these
guys weren't playing that good when
the equipment was workin'. If I could
get anybody to come and watch this
team, none of this would be necessary.
You oughta be grateful I can still
pay your salaries.
With that, Rachel turns and walks out. Brown and the others
can only watch her go.
Sequence omitted from original script.
Sequence omitted from original script.
SPORTSCASTER ROSS FARMER
On the air.
In case you haven't noticed, and
judging by attendance, you haven't,
the Indians, that thought-to-be
hopeless collection of has-been's
and never-will-be's is actually
approaching the .500 mark, and with
it, semi-respectability. Nothing to
write home about, to be sure, but at
least we don't have to cover our
INT. THE INJUN DINER - DAY
Bobby, Vic and Johnny are at the counter.
Ya know, they could be a lot worse.
INT. PRIVATE GYM - DAY
The Business Executive is talking with a friend while working
out on the Nautilus machines.
Ya know, I may have underestimated
this team a bit.
EXT. THE CLEVELAND DOCKS - DAY
The two Longshoremen again.
Ya know, these guys aren't so fuckin'
EXT. CLEVELAND MUNICIPAL STADIUM - DAY
The two Groundskeepers are repairing the pitcher's mound.
They're still shitty.
Sequence omitted from original script.
Sequence omitted from original script.
Brown storms out of the dugout, doing his best to look
Ah shit, here comes Lou. Gimme a
break, Mel. I gotta get outta here.
All right, kick some dirt on me. The
Commissioner'll buy that.
Right. Good idea.
Taylor begins kicking dirt on Wingo's shoes, ala Billy Martin.
Wingo takes a dramatic hop, skip and jump and gives Taylor
the heave-ho thumb just as Brown arrives. Wingo turns away.
Hey, don't you go anywhere. I wanna
have a few words with you.
Brown grabs Taylor and pulls him aside.
(under his breath)
What are we arguin' about here?
(struggling as if he
wanted to get at
Fucker called that a ball.
You mean the one that was a foot
Taylor breaks away and starts back to the dugout. Playing it
to the hilt, he throws his glove and mask to the ground on
Meanwhile, Brown is going jaw to jaw with Wingo, outraged at
the call. Brown pulls a carrot out of his back pocket, and
offers it to Wingo, who immediately thumbs him out.
leaving her seat and starting up the aisle.
Taylor comes up the stairs from the locker room, still in
full uniform. He emerges onto the box level to see Lynn
disappearing down the ramp toward the parking lot.
in the parking lot. As she goes to unlock her car, Taylor
looks around hurriedly for some kind of vehicle to follow
He bangs on the bullpen gates and is admitted by the guard.
Inside is the Bullpen car, a souped-up golf cart with a body
shaped like a batting helmet. Taylor hops in and roars out
INT. CLEVELAND ATHLETIC CLUB - NIGHT
Lynn comes out of the dressing room into the pool area,
deserted this time of night. She wears a racing suit, but
lets her hair hang free. The pool glows like a sheet of
emerald glass. She shakes down a beat, curls her toes around
the coping, slowly bends at the waist, and then launches
into a full-out racing dive.
We watch as she swims a 100 yard individual medley; first
the butterfly, then the backstroke, breaststroke and finally
freestyle. We condense the time, of course, SHOOTING some
underwater, some SLO-MO, as she knives through the water,
her hair flowing behind her, an athlete alone with her medium.
The SEQUENCE should convey not only the grace of her strokes
and her athletic ability, but the fluid beauty of swimming,
its synthesis of power and form.
As she begins the freestyle leg, another body appears in the
pool next to her. It's Jake, and he's racing her the final
lap. She immediately responds to the challenge, digging
harder, picking up her kick. They go neck and neck for 20
yards, but Lynn has one more gear and touches him by half a
body length at the wall. Both are winded.
You still got that great kick. Just
like the first time I ever saw you.
You follow me here too?
Yeh, what did you want to see me
What do you mean?
You wouldn't have been at the game
if you didn't want to see me about
(getting out of the
I just wanted to see you play.
How was I?
You looked good, but you oughta open
your stance a little. They're pitching
I'll try that. You wanna have some
Sorry, I already ate.
Right. I forgot your life is different
(getting out of the
Thanks for the race.
(watching her go)
INT. LYNN'S CAR - NIGHT
Driving through the city on her way home. Lynn glances in
the rear-view mirror and spots Taylor following her. She
smiles to herself. Taylor, of course, thinks he's gone
We begin a SHORT SEQUENCE during which Lynn tries to lose
Taylor in a chase through Cleveland, car vs. batting helmet.
The logistics will have to be worked out in Cleveland, but
suffice it to say, by the end of the chase she appears to
have ditched him.
EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Lynn comes up the stairs, unlocks the apartment door and
steps inside. There's no particular urgency. She feels sure
she's shaken Taylor.
The apartment is full of packing boxes. Tired from the chase,
Lynn drops her bag on a box and slumps down on the couch.
It's obvious she's not all that happy to have lost Taylor.
She goes to the window and looks down to the street for some
sign of him.
Seeing nothing, she turns away from the window disappointed,
and starts back to the couch, when something stops her. It's
Taylor, standing in the doorway.
Whose place are we at this time?
Mine. You follow me again?
Yeh. When I saw you at the game, I
figured you wanted to see me about
I just wanted to see you play.
How was I?
You looked good, but you oughta open
your stance a little. They're pitchin'
I'll try that.
Taylor gives a perfunctory nod. They look at each other a
second. There's still plenty there. Taylor begins to come
toward her. We hear his cleats on the floor. She backs off,
but not with real conviction.
I think I oughta tell you that I'm
moving in with Tom.
Goin' uptown, huh?
I'm not goin' uptown, I just want to
lead a regular life. You know, like
an adult maybe. With a house and a
garden and normal hours.
You think I can't lead a regular
You like the life you've had, Jake.
You like hangin' out with the boys,
livin' in hotels, eatin' dinner at
midnight, having girls send you their
underwear in the mail. Remember the
surprise party I threw for you when
you made the All-Star team? You never
showed up, but the doorbell rang
once and we all got quiet and hid
behind the furniture. It was a guy
to serve you with a paternity suit.
That was a hoax. The girl was just
trying to get some publicity.
Yes, but you had obviously been with
her. And it happened in front of all
I was drownin', Lynn. The endorsements
were dryin' up, my knees were goin',
they were talkin' about sendin' me
down. I was just trying to hold on
to somethin', prove to myself I was
still an All-Star. I don't care about
that anymore. I know I don't have
much time left in baseball. I'm just
a guy trying to put his life back
together. Thinkin' about you was the
only thing that kept me goin' in
Lynn looks at him a long beat.
I've come back to you too many times,
Jake. I can't afford to believe you
Lynn is backed up against a desk now. She could move out but
I guess this is our last hurrah then.
I guess so. Did you really read "Moby
Cover to cover.
Taylor comes forward to kiss her, tentatively at first. Their
conversation is interwoven with the slowly deepening intensity
of their kissing.
When's the wedding?
Your mom and dad like this guy?
You're still their favorite.
They're unbuttoning each other's shirts now.
Gonna be a big wedding?
Tom doesn't like big weddings. You
coulda read Plot Outlines of 101
At any library.
I mean the wedding.
All Saints on Euclid.
Yeh. Who saved Ishmael at the end?
Nobody. It was Queequeg's coffin. Am
To the wedding.
If you want. Maybe you really did
Their shirts are off now.
This doesn't change anything, you
know. We were always good at this.
The zipper on your skirt is stuck.
Use your imagination.
Taylor's spikes come down across her skirt, catching in the
material, ripping it from her body and pinning it to the
wood floor. Taylor steps out of the shoe and whisks Lynn OUT
OF FRAME. We hold on the skirt, nailed to the floor by the
INT. LYNN'S BEDROOM - MORNING
Taylor wakens and turns over to find Lynn gone. He looks
around but there's no sign of her.
EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT - DAY
Taylor comes down the steps, gets in his car, and drives OUT
OF FRAME. We HOLD on the SHOT, and...
THE SAME SHOT - THAT NIGHT
Taylor's car pulls INTO FRAME. He gets out and goes up the
steps. There's one light on in the apartment window. Taylor
comes up to the door and knocks. Getting no answer, he pushes
it open to find that the apartment is completely empty. Just
bare hardwood floor. Taylor stands forlorn in the center of
the room a beat, then walks on out, switching off the overhead
light as he goes.
INT. RACHEL PHELPS' OFFICE - DAY
Donovan is present once again. Rachel does not look pleased.
Well, my worst fears have been
confirmed. We're 60 and 60, nine
games out of first, and only two out
of the first division. Who do those
guys think they are?
Maybe you just have to accept the
fact that they're not as bad as you'd
I don't have to accept anything. Our
attendance is only beginning to rise.
If we can force a losing streak for
a week or two, we can still turn
this thing around. The fans are used
to losers here. At the first sign of
a slump they'll give up on this team.
What's left to do? You've taken away
everything you can.
EXT. RURAL HIGHWAY - DAY
We pick up a decrepit old Greyhound bus coming down the
highway, belching smoke like a diesel semi. On the side we
see the visage of Chief Wahoo and the words "Indian Express."
INT. INDIAN EXPRESS - DAY
Complete with all the luxuries of the average school bus.
Temple is looking at a memo from Rachel Phelps.
Memo says we'll only be usin' this
for short trips.
Good thing we don't play anybody in
TAYLOR AND HAYES
Taylor is staring out the window, still morose about Lynn's
leaving. A stack of Classics Illustrated comics sits next to
Can I borrow one of those, man? They
don't have any magazines on this
Sure, go ahead. I think my reading
days are over.
Macbeth. This a good one?
(pointing to his stack
These are all Hall of Famers.
Hayes is impressed.
EXT. CITY OF NEW YORK - NIGHT
The Indian Express makes its way through the streets of New
York, enroute to the Indian's hotel.
INT. INDIAN EXPRESS - FULL SHOT
We see that now most of the team is reading classic comics.
I'll trade you Song of Hiawatha for
Naw, I'm not into Song of Hiawatha.
All right then, how about Crime and
Yeh, that sounds pretty good. That's
a detective story, right?
INT. INDIAN EXPRESS - NIGHT
The bus slows down and pulls over to the curb.
This is it. The Sheffield Arms.
The players all crowd to the window to get a glimpse of their
hotel. Hotel is actually overstating it. This place is one
cut below the YMCA.
I don't know if we can survive any
more of these economy measures.
INT. THE SHEFFIELD ARMS - DAY
We pick up Taylor, Hayes and Vaughn coming into their
dilapidated hotel room. Peeling walls and ceilings, rickety
furniture, rusted bathroom fixtures. Taylor sprawls down on
one of the cots. It collapses on the floor in a cloud of
EXT. YANKEE STADIUM - DAY
Vaughn is on the mound warming up.
So, Ricky Vaughn, roughed up in his
only other appearance against the
Yankees, will see what he can do
with the Bronx Bombers this time.
Vaughn, after a slow start, has come
on lately and now leads the American
League in strikeouts with 221.
Vaughn finishes his warmups. As Taylor pumps the ball down
to second, Vaughn hears a voice from the Yankee dug-out.
Vaughn glances over and sees that one of the Yankees is
dressed in a striped prison uniform. He also wears long
earrings, high heels, and of course, glasses. Vaughn tries
to ignore the guy, but his concentration is broken.
Vaughn steps up on the rubber for his first pitch. He winds
and fires. The Yankee LEADOFF HITTER rips a one-hopper to
the wall in right center. Hayes runs it down and guns it
back to the infield to hold the guy to a double. The convict
whoops it up.
Vaughn gets back up on the rubber. As he comes to the stretch,
he catches sight of the convict again. The guy is doing a
pantomime, sneaking up to a car and picking the lock, much
to the delight of his teammates. Vaughn throws his pitch in
the dirt and all the way to the backstop. The runner on second
goes to third.
(throwing the ball
C'mon, Rick baby, settle down.
Vaughn gets ready again. The convict finishes picking the
lock and then is suddenly arrested. He puts his hands against
the wall and spreads his legs for a weapons check, cracking
up the whole bench. Vaughn is getting a little steamed. His
next pitch is hammered into left for a single, scoring a
THREE SHOTS OF VAUGHN
throwing pitches, followed by:
of the THIRD HITTER lining a double down the right field
line, the FOURTH HITTER a triple off the center field wall,
and the FIFTH HITTER a single to right. The scoreboard now
reads 4 to 0 Yankees. Taylor comes out to talk to Vaughn.
What's the problem, Rick? You're
throwin' basketballs up there. That
guy in the dugout botherin' you?
Naw, I'm all right.
Forget him. Worry about the guys
carryin' bats. C'mon, Ricky, let's
Vaughn nods as Taylor trots back behind the plate.
Vaughn gets set again as his old nemesis, Haywood, steps
into the batter's box. Haywood has a sly smile on his face.
As Vaughn comes to his stretch, the convict goes back into
his act. He's in jail now, struggling against the bars.
Finally he bends over and grabs his ankles, while one of his
teammates humps up against him, pretending to bugger him.
This sends the Yankee bench into hysterics.
Vaughn has lost it now. He fires to the plate and Haywood
creams another tape measure job into the upper deck. Hayes
doesn't even bother to run back to the wall. He just watches
it go. 6-0 Yankees.
I thought now that Vaughn had some
control, he was ready for the Yankees.
Not quite yet.
Brown makes his way to the mound to take Vaughn out.
So, Vaughn pitches in some tough
luck here as the Yankees put together
as few squib hits and take a 6-0
in the press box. The stadium below is empty, the grounds
crew covering the infield.
Well, the Indians made a gallant
comeback today, but fell one run
short as the Yankees held on for a 6-
5 victory, although they didn't do
squat after the first inning. Anyway,
if the bus makes it here from the
hotel we'll be on at 7:30 tomorrow
night. Till then, this is Harry Doyle,
saying so long, everybody, and Happy
INT. THE HOTEL BAR - NIGHT
Brown is alone in the bar having a drink. A figure sits down
on the stool next to him. It's Donovan.
Mind if I join you?
(surprised to see him)
Donovan. Hell no. What are you doin'
Just wanted to get out on the road.
You damn near pulled one out today.
Someday we'll figure out how to beat
Ya know, you've done a helluva job
Sixty and sixty-one is hardly a
With this club it is.
Ya know, when I first got to camp I
figured this team had no chance. I
was just hopin' we'd win enough that
I could stay on and really start to
build something here. But there's a
lotta talent on this club, Charlie.
The veterans are starting to play
back to form and the rookies are
developing faster than I thought.
There's two or three potential all-
stars in there. I think we're a first
division team right now.
You really believe that, don't you?
I know it. All we need is something
to bring it all together.
Rachel Phelps would never allow that.
What do you mean?
She doesn't want you in the first
division. She doesn't even want you
On Brown's incredulous face, we...
INT. INDIANS LOCKER ROOM - DAY
The players are all gathered around, obviously having been
called together by Brown.
(addressing the group)
I got somethin' I think you oughta
know about. I wouldn't have known
about it myself if Charlie Donovan
hadn't told me, although I shoulda
guessed it from everything that's
happened. It seems that Mrs. Phelps
doesn't think too highly of our worth.
We take several CUTS OF FACES around the room.
She put this team together because
she thought we'd be bad enough to
finish dead last, knockin' attendance
down to the point where she could
move the team to Miami.
And get rid of all of us for better
Taylor, Vaughn, Hayes, Dorn, and the others can hardly believe
what they're hearing.
Even you, Dorn.
Silence descends on the room.
In other words, Phelps thinks we're
all dinks. That we don't belong in
the big leagues.
That's about it.
What if we don't finish last?
She'll replace you with somebody who
will. After this season, you'll all
be sent back to the minors or given
your outright release.
So, all we're gonna get is this one
Taylor surveys the bowed heads around the room. He stands to
address the group.
I don't know about the rest of you,
but I've been playin' baseball since
I was five years old. I've had some
good years and some years to forget.
I've burned out my knees... I don't
think I have three fingers that work
right... I've lost most of the money
I made and baseball has messed up my
personal life from time to time. But
I know one thing... I can still play
this game a little. And I'd like to
know who in this room thinks they're
the kinda bum Mrs. Phelps is lookin'
Eyes dart around the room, then come back to Taylor. No hands
Well, then, I guess there's only one
thing to do.
Win the whole fuckin' thing.
We take CUTS of the startled faces of the players. As the
idea sinks in, they begin to come to life. MUSIC begins and
we're into a...
detailing the newly-motivated Indians' drive for the pennant
and the "Pennant Fever" it creates in Cleveland. We begin
hanging a full size blowup of Rachel Phelps on the locker
room wall. In the picture she's pointing as if out at the
players, and a bubble above her head says, "YOU GUYS STINK!"
A set of designer clothes, of the type Rachel wears, have
been superimposed on the picture. The clothes are divided
into 32 pull-off squares.
I figure it's gonna take 32 more
victories to win this thing. Every
time we win, we peel a square.
coming out of an elevator in the Turk, with a wheelbarrow
full of dirt. We pan him down the hall, where we see a dirt
sliding area he's been building up.
leading off a makeshift base in the hall of the Turk. As
Vaughn tosses a ball up in the air, Hayes takes off down the
hall toward another base on the dirt sliding area.
Vaughn catches the ball and rifles a throw down to Taylor,
who puts the tag on the sliding Hayes. Cerrano, who's umping,
calls Hayes out. Hayes jumps up and argues vociferously,
hopping around in frustration.
Sequence omitted from original script.
hitting one rocket-shot ground ball after another at Dorn.
Some bounce off his chest and arms, but Dorn stays in front
of every one.
taking off his shirt in the locker room. His chest is a mass
of welts and bruises.
"polishing" his bats with black shoe polish and a brush.
taking batting practice late at night. He attacks the ball
swing after swing.
Sequence omitted from original script.
taking his stretch with a man on first, and firing to the
plate. The Batter swings and misses for strike three, while
the Runner on first breaks for second. TAYLOR rifles a throw
down to second nailing the Runner for a double play.
taking a hot smash off his chest. He picks it up and guns
the runner down.
Sequence omitted from original script.
stealing home, as the opposing Pitcher tries frantically to
hurry his windup. Hayes slides across safely, hooking to the
infield side. He jumps up and punches the air with his fist.
nailing up the pair of black gloves he used to steal home
above his bed.
"INDIANS WIN FIFTH STRAIGHT, CRACK FIRST DIVISION"
EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT
Ross Farmer, microphone in hand, stands in front of a blazing
bonfire. A large crowd cheers as various people throw doormats
on the blaze.
(to TV camera)
You remember bra burning in the '70's,
well, the newest thing in Cleveland
is doormat burning as Indian fans
are standing up and saying "We won't
be stepped on anymore".
THREE QUICK SHOTS OF VAUGHN
blowing fast balls by hitter.
with Donovan next to her, watching all this good play in
AN ANGEL HITTER
lining a single to center. Cerrano charges it and fires to
the plate as a Runner tries to score from second. Just as
Taylor catches the ball, he's once again knocked flat by the
Runner. This time he lies still a beat, and then an arm comes
up holding the ball.
The Umpire thumbs the Runner out.
late at night, sitting head-down in the outboard motor
whirlpool. He's hurting.
EXT. CLEVELAND DOWNTOWN STREET -DAY
We PICK UP three Teenage Girls walking down the street wearing
T-shirts that say WILD THING--I THINK I LOVE YOU. A Black
Kid comes by wearing black gloves on each hand. As he passes,
he holds up one finger signifying Number One. The Girls return
EXT. EXECUTIVE'S OFFICE - DAY
The Business Executive passes his secretary's desk, gives
her some instructions, and goes into his office. As soon as
he's out of sight, she opens her drawer and slips the earplug
from a portable radio into her ear. OVER, we hear the Indians'
inside his office. He opens his desk drawer and pulls out an
earplug. He's also listening to the game.
Sequence omitted from original script.
Sequence omitted from original script.
INT. BURLESQUE JOINT - NIGHT
The Stripper is wearing a squaw costume, with black glove
and a WILD THING T-shirt.
Several members of the audience have radio earplugs on.
"INDIANS SWEEP ORIOLES, MOVE INTO SECOND."
SERIES OF SHOTS
of squares of leopard skin fabric being peeled away. Under
one is revealed a section of bare hip and thigh. Under
another, a navel. Under still another, the edge of a bare
breast and arm.
THE INDIAN TEAM
all dressed in tuxedos, posed "team picture" style on the
infield of Municipal Stadium.
Hello, do you know us?
We're a Major League baseball team,
but since we haven't won a pennant
in thirty years, nobody recognizes
us, not even in our own hometown.
That's why we carry the American
Express card. No matter how far out
of first we are, it keeps us from
getting shut out at our favorite
hotels and restaurants.
So if you're looking for some big
league clout, apply for the little
green home run hitter.
Look what it's done for us. People
still don't recognize us, but...
...we're in the first division now.
sliding across home plate in his tuxedo and stopping IN FRAME.
He holds up an American Express card in a black-gloved hand.
The American Express card. Don't
steal home without it.
SHOTS OF FANS
filing into Cleveland Municipal Stadium. Tickets being ripped,
programs sold, etc.
swinging and hitting a home run into the left field seats.
THE BLEACHER BAND
beating the tom-toms and whooping it up. The SHOT WIDENS to
reveal they're no longer alone in the stands.
nailing up another pair of gloves above his head. There are
a lot of them up there now.
INT. THE INDIAN BUS - NIGHT
On the road again. Everyone's asleep except Taylor who lies
across his seat, heating pads on his knees.
THE LONGSHOREMEN (POSSIBLE OMIT)
watching TV in a Cleveland working-class bar. Also cheering
the Indians are several punk and heavy metal kids, their
faces painted with Indian war paint. Strange bedfellows.
hitting a prodigious home run onto the roof.
standing up to cheer Cerrano's homer, then remembering he's
with Rachel. He sits down apologetically. Rachel watches the
events on the field with a face of cold steel.
hitting a double into the right centerfield alley with two
Hayes, the trailing runner, catches up with the lead runner,
and they reach the plate at about the same time, one sliding
around the Catcher one way, one around the other.
Both score as the Catcher tries to tag both and gets neither.
FANS IN THE STANDS
going wild, while the Indian mascot dances on top of the
The program in progress is suddenly interrupted by a Sports-
Break logo appearing on the screen.
We interrupt this program to bring
you the following special bulletin.
live outside the Indian's locker room. He wears a headdress,
warpaint, and a Wild Thing T-shirt.
Good evening, everybody. The
incredible has happened. The Indians
have finished the regular season in
a first place tie with the New York
Yankees on the strength of a 4-2 win
over the Tigers in Detroit today.
There will be a one-game playoff
here in Cleveland the day after
tomorrow to decide the Eastern
Division Championship, the Indians
having won the coin flip held just
moments ago in the American League
office. We'll have further details
on the news at 11, but for now, get
your tomahawks ready, Cleveland.
CLOSEUP - A PIECE OF LEOPARD SKIN FABRIC
We hear cheers as it's ripped away to reveal the photographic
image of Rachel's cleavage. We PULL BACK to see the life-
size poster is now completely peeled. Rachel stares out at
us in a G-string and tassels. The photo is obviously from
her showgirl days.
General merriment prevails in the locker room. Players shaking
hands, back slapping, etc. Hayes comes by to exchange
congratulations with Taylor. MUSIC and MONTAGE END.
Hey, not bad for a has-been and a
We haven't won anything yet. We still
got one more to go.
Dorn comes by Taylor's locker.
Hey, Taylor, there's a coupla drop-
dead Annies outside. One of 'em says
she used to know you pretty good.
Brunette, great rack...
Yeh. What doya say we chat 'em up?
I don't know...
C'mon, you're not gonna keep moonin'
over that library chick, are you?
Forget her, she's gone.
We leave Taylor thinking it over.
INT. DORN'S HOUSE - NIGHT
Suzanne Dorn is watching the 11 o'clock news. HAL CHARLES is
The Indians are spending the night
in Detroit and will bus back to
Cleveland in the morning. We're going
to go back now to Ross Farmer who's
standing by at the Hotel Stanley
where the Indians are staying in
The scene shifts to...
THE LOBBY OF THE STANLEY HOTEL
where Ross Farmer stands, microphone in hand. Behind him
several players can be seen partying in the bar.
Thank you, Hal. As you can see, the
Indians are in high spirits tonight,
looking forward to their showdown
with the Yankees. Who will start
that game is still a matter of some
As Ross talks, Dorn walks INTO THE FRAME in the far background
with his arm around a YOUNG LOVELY. They're nuzzling and
hugging, unaware they're on camera, albeit in the background.
Suzanne doesn't miss it though. She moves closer to the screen
to get a better look.
Dorn and the Girl get in an elevator together, obviously
going upstairs. As the elevator closes, Suzanne hits the off
button. She sits there a second in shock, and then her face
begins to harden.
INT. TAYLOR'S HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
Taylor and DARLA are undressing, preparatory to getting into
bed. They are definitely no strangers to each other.
You still got that black Corvette?
The one that the sound system took
up the whole trunk?
No, I had to sell it.
I thought they gave them to ya.
Not after your knees go bad.
That's all right, you'll be gettin'
a new one now.
Darla is down to her bra and panties. She puts her leg up on
the bed to unhook her stockings. Taylor is about to take off
his pants, but stops.
Darla, I don't think I can do this.
What do you mean? We did this between
I guess I'm just not that guy anymore.
Darla looks at him a long beat.
Happens to the best of them sooner
or later. What's her name?
EXT. HALL OUTSIDE TAYLOR'S ROOM - NIGHT
The door opens and Darla comes out, fully clothed now. She
turns to say goodbye to Jake, who is still bare-chested.
So long, Jake. Too bad. I was gonna
devote a whole chapter to you in my
As Darla gives Jake a goodbye peck, the elevator door opens
across the hall, and out steps Lynn. She's obviously rattled
by the sight of Taylor and Darla together.
Excuse me. I was in town for a
conference and thought I'd drop by,
but I can see you're busy...
With that she quickly steps back into the elevator and the
Taylor leaps to the elevator door, but it's too late. He
then sprints to the end of the hall and down the stairs.
running down the stairs and into the lobby. Seeing no sign
of Lynn, he races out the front door to see her pulling out
in a taxi. He can only stand and watch her disappear into
INT. THE INDIANS' BUS - DAY
We PICK UP Vaughn making his way to the back of the bus,
where Brown has his "office" on the last seat. Most of the
other players are asleep after a late night of partying.
You wanted to see me?
Yeh, Rick. I just wanted to tell you
that I'm startin' Harris tomorrow
against the Yankees, even though
it's your turn in the rotation.
Vaughn says nothing, but he's clearly disappointed.
He's got more experience and a little
better record against the Yankees.
Yeh, sure. Whatever's best for the
Don't read anything into it, Rick.
You're one of the guys that got us
Vaughn turns and walks back up the aisle. Brown watches him
go, knowing he's still upset.
EXT. MUNICIPAL STADIUM - DAY
The Indian bus pulls up outside the Stadium, where a group
of several thousand fans wait. The players are showered with
cheers and applause as they file out.
INT. BAR - NIGHT
Vaughn sits in the bar alone, nursing a beer, still troubled
by his demotion. He hears a sexy VOICE behind him.
You mind if I join you?
Vaughn turns around to see Suzanne Dorn. She's dressed to
draw blood, looking better than we've ever seen her. She
slides into the booth.
I don't think I'd be very good company
Nothin'. Job problem.
Vaughn falls silent. Suzanne stares at him with a devastating
combination of sexual heat and tender admiration. She's
pulling out all the stops. Vaughn's a little flustered.
I'm, ah, a ball player.
I know, but that's not why I came
over. I don't chase ball players.
Why did you come over then?
Because you're the sexiest man I've
ever laid eyes on, and you look like
you could use a... friend.
We GO TO Vaughn. Forget it. He's a goner.
INT. VAUGHN'S ROOM - NIGHT
Vaughn has dozed off in the bed. Suzanne, is getting dressed.
Vaughn wakes up as she finishes.
Where you goin'?
I've gotta get home.
I didn't even get your name.
Suzanne. Suzanne Dorn
(having heard that
name someplace before)
Mrs. Suzanne Dorn.
(kissing him on the
So long. You're a great kid.
With that she walks on out, leaving Vaughn dazed by the
knowledge of who he's just slept with.
THE HALL OUTSIDE VAUGHN'S ROOM
Taylor is coming back from the bathroom down the hall as
Suzanne comes out of Vaughn's room.
Taylor is amazed by what he's just seen. As soon as Suzanne
is out of sight, he goes to Vaughn's room and opens the door.
Vaughn is sitting on his bed in a state of disbelief.
I swear to God I didn't know who she
Taylor nods that it's all right even though he doesn't believe
Sequence omitted from original script.
pulling up outside the church. Lynn is helped out of the car
by her Father. As she starts up the steps, she sees that
both sides are lined by the entire Cleveland Indians team in
uniform. They form an arch of bats as she passes. At the top
of the steps is Taylor. Lynn stops as her father ushers her
mother on into the church.
You look beautiful.
Thank you. I didn't think you'd come.
I can't stay.
(indicating the team)
We gotta get to the park.
Good luck today, Jake.
Yeh, you too.
Tell me one thing. The night you
came up to my hotel -- was there
really a library conference?
No, I came to see you.
Too bad it didn't work out better. I
just wanna say I'm sorry for all the
things I've put you through over the
Even for last night?
Can't be sorry for that. Nothing
He says this with absolute conviction. Despite herself, Lynn
senses that he's telling the truth.
Then you weren't defending my honor
I didn't have to. She knew she was
Lynn smiles. He gives her a kiss and watches as she goes
inside. He stands there a long beat, then turns and walks
slowly down the steps past his teammates.
INT. RACHEL PHELPS' OFFICE - DAY
Rachel is looking out at the empty stadium. There's a KNOCK
at the door.
The door is opened by a Male Secretary and in steps Lou Brown.
Hello, Lou, what can I do for ya?
Lou puts a folded piece of paper on her desk.
I wanted to hand in my resignation
before you had a chance to fire me.
What do you mean?
I know what you been tryin' to do
with this team. After the season, I
want no part of it.
Well, I knew I could count on Charlie
to tell somebody. I was just afraid
he might take too long.
Why would you want him to tell
So you'd tell the team, hopefully
getting them mad enough to knock
themselves out trying to prove they
belonged in this league. I think it
You tryin' to make me believe you
wanted us to win all along?
Bullshit. What about the plane, the
bus, the bad hotels...
We were broke. We couldn't afford
anything better. Donald left the
team nearly bankrupt. If we'd had
another losing season, I would have
had to sell the team. I knew we
couldn't win with the team we had,
so I decided to bring in new players
and see how they'd do with the proper
motivation. There was never any offer
from Miami. I made it all up.
Why should I believe any of this?
Now that we're winnin' it's easy for
you to jump on the bandwagon.
If I'd really wanted you to lose,
all I had to do was send the best
players back to the minors. But I
didn't, did I?
Brown has no comeback for this. He knows now that she's
telling the truth.
You think this was all an accident?
I personally scouted every member of
this team, except Hayes, of course.
He was a surprise. They all had flaws
which concealed their real talent,
or I wouldn't have been able to get
them. But I knew if anyone could
straighten them out, you could. And
if you tell them any of this, I will
Brown can only shake his head at this whole thing.
I love this team, Lou. Go get 'em
The two shake hands. Brown looks at Rachel a beat, still
looking for some sign of duplicity. Finally he gives her a
grudging smile of respect.
INT. THE TURK - LATE AFTERNOON
Taylor, Hayes, Vaughn and the others are getting ready to
board the bus to the stadium. Taylor pulls Vaughn aside.
I don't know what Dorn's wife is up
to, but I think it'd be best if you
dressed early and got out to the
bullpen before Dorn comes in.
We got a problem. Cerrano wants some
extra power for tonight. He's lookin'
to sacrifice a live chicken. We can't
have people pukin' in the locker
room before the game.
Tell him not to worry, I'll take
care of it.
INT. DORN'S HOUSE - LATE AFTERNOON
Dorn is ready to leave for the park.
Bye bye, honey, wish me luck.
Before you go, there's something I
wanta tell you.
Uh oh, we know what this is all about.
EXT. CLEVELAND MUNICIPAL STADIUM - NIGHT
The place is jammed. 75,000 screaming maniacs, most of them
decked out in war paint and head dresses. Some carry plastic
scalps with Yankee hats on them. Others have caps with the
European "No" insignia superimposed over a door mat.
In the press box.
Here's your bourbon.
Won't need it tonight.
THE LOCKER ROOM
starkly quiet in contrast to the stadium outside. Each player
has retreated into his own world of concentration.
Dorn approaches Taylor, who's fitting heavy athletic braces
on both knees.
You know where Vaughn is?
Nope. Haven't seen him.
Let me know if you do. I wanna have
a little talk with him.
Dorn moves off.
Where's my chicken?
It's comin' in now.
We see a Bat Boy enter with a bucket of fried chicken. Cerrano
looks at it in bewilderment.
One whole chicken, like you said.
But it no alive.
Believe me, Jo-Buu will like this.
He's gotta be gettin' tired of raw
As Cerrano hefts the bucket somewhat skeptically and takes
it to his altar, we...
warming up in the bullpen. The tension of starting such an
important game shows in his face.
Hello, everybody, Harry Doyle bidding
you a Wahoo welcome from beautiful
Municipal Stadium, where tonight
before a capacity crowd of 75,000
screaming featherheads, the braves
of the Cuyahoga will leave their
teepees in search of Cleveland's
first League Championship in over 30
years. Standing in the way, their
long time nemesis, the New York
Yankees, the Big Boys of Broadway,
who have beaten the Indians like a
tom-tom all year long.
Down in the dugout, the players are lined up ready to take
the field. They exchange words of encouragement, hand slaps,
clenched fists, but all at a very low key level. This is
All right, guys, let's take it to
The Indians charge onto the field to a standing ovation.
In the center field bleachers Thelma's victory blanket
containing the scores of every Indian game for the season,
hangs from a railing. Bobby, Vic and Johnny pound the tom-
toms leading the stadium in a monster version of "In the
Land of Burning Waters." Even the groundskeepers join in.
Two down in the first. Harris looking sharp so far... Bouncing
ball to third. Dorn up with it.
Throwing the first pitch. The YANKEE HITTER grounds one to
Dorn who throws him out.
0-0 in the 3rd.
striking out on a curve ball.
robbing a Yankee of a home run by making a leaping catch
over the fence.
picking a Yankee runner off first.
0-0 in the 5th.
Sequence omitted from original script.
striking out on a curve ball, trying to check his swing.
Umpire emphatically punches him out.
Looking past him to the field. Harris is on the mound. There's
a runner on second.
Still nothing -- nothing, top of the
seventh, two down. Harris has been
in trouble all night, but has battled
his way out with the help of some
great defensive plays.
Harris comes set and delivers. The Yankee hitter, BURTON,
(L) swings and gets all of it.
Uh oh, this one's tagged. Deep center
field. Way back. Way back.
Hayes climbs up on the wall, but it's long gone. Home run.
It's off the reservation, home run.
And the Yankees lead it 2-0.
RACHEL'S BOX (INSERT STORYBOARD # 209G)
Donovan is a little confused by this.
Burton trots around the bases and is greeted by jubilant
teammates at the plate. A silent pall falls on the stadium.
As the "2" goes up on the scoreboard, we...
popping up and flinging his bat away in frustration. We take
CUTS of the worried fans, chewing fingernails, wadding up
programs, hanging their heads, etc.
grounding out, obviously having trouble running. We take
CUTS of worried faces on the bench.
stepping into the batter's box. The crowd is practically
sitting on its hands now. Hope draining away.
Dorn up now, two down, bottom of the
seventh. The Indians running out of
Dorn swings at the first pitch and lines a sharp single to
left. The crowd and the Indian bench suddenly come alive.
Cerrano moves to the plate.
That'll bring on Cerrano, hitless
tonight. As a matter of fact, he
hasn't touched the ball yet.
The crowd and bleacher band begins to clap as Dorn takes his
lead. Cerrano swings at the first pitch and misses. An audible
groan goes through the crowd.
The Yankee pitcher gets set again, and throws Cerrano a big,
roundhouse curve. He misses it a foot. Strike two.
Damn, havin' trouble with the curve
We should've gotten him a live
Cerrano steps out and begins to talk to his bat, gesturing
and pointing as if arguing with his wife.
I pissed off now, Jo-Buu. I good to
you, I stand up for you. If you no
help me now, I say fuck you, Jo-Buu.
I do it myself.
Cerrano gets back in the box and digs in. The Yankee pitcher
comes to his stretch and delivers. Another big breaking curve
ball. Cerrano swings and knocks the crap out of it. Everyone
in the stands and on the bench jumps to their feet, rooting
for the ball to get out.
DOYLE (STORYBOARD #212EE)
Long drive, deep centerfield. Way
back. It might be. It could be. The
ball is... Downtown, welcome to the
Happy Hunting Ground. The game is
The fans go crazy as Cerrano circles the bases.
RACHEL'S BOX (STORYBOARD # 212GG)
Rachel jumps out of her seat, hands above her head. Donovan
hesitates a beat, then follows suit.
Cerrano carries his bat with him, holding it high above his
head. As Cerrano disappears into the dugout, we go to the
scoreboard as the 2 goes up.
DOYLE (STORYBOARD # 212NN)
Two down in the top of the ninth,
still tied at 2, Harris working on
lining a single to right field. Harris mops his brow,
ANOTHER YANKEE HITTER
smashing a double off the wall, the lead runner stopping at
third. Brown signals to the bullpen to get somebody warm.
on the mound, looking like he's out of gas.
Activity continues in the pen, as
Harris is really digging himself a
hole now. He got the first two
hitters, and then gave up a single
and a double and has now gone 3-0 to
Harris comes set and fires to the plate. It's way high.
High, ball four and they're loaded
for Haywood, the biggest Indian killer
of them all.
Brown has seen enough. He makes his way to the mound.
(taking the ball from
You pitched a hell of a game, Steve.
Take a seat and we'll see if we can
get this guy for ya.
Brown signals to the bullpen with his left hand.
Give me Vaughn.
You want Vaughn?
I know he hasn't done real well
against this guy, but I got a hunch
striding in from the bullpen. He doesn't look relaxed. As he
nears the infield he purposely doesn't look at Dorn. Dorn
stares at him with undisguised venom.
As Vaughan gets to the mound, he sees Patton getting his
convict uniform on in the Yankee dugout. He looks away to
see Haywood in the on-deck circle smiling out at him.
Meanwhile, the CROWD has gone nuts at the sight of Vaughn.
Bobby, Vic and Johnny are blasting out "Wild Thing" on the
tom-toms and the whole stadium, 75,000 strong, is singing
it. Doyle just pushes the mic forward and lets the crowd do
Okay, Ricky, Haywood likes the hard
stuff in. Curve him on the hands,
bust him away, and don't get up with
anything. You listenin' to me Rick?
Vaughn nods, but we can tell he's too nervous to have digested
any of that.
(Patting him on the
O.K., kid, you're my man. Let's go
C'mon Ricky, this guy is the out you
been waitin' your whole life for.
Brown and Taylor leave Vaughn alone on the mound, the SINGING
of the crowd ringing in his ears.
DOYLE (INSERT STORYBOARD #216N)
O.K. Vaughn has finished his warmup
and we're ready to...
No sooner has Taylor settled in behind the plate, than Dorn
starts toward the mound. Vaughn watches him come with fear
Dorn arrives at the mound, and holds out his hand for the
ball. Vaughn gives it to him. Dorn rubs it up, staring long
and hard into Vaughn's eyes. Vaughn is sweating bullets.
Finally Dorn speaks.
Let's cut through the crap. I only
got one thing to say to you. Just
rear back and strike this motherfucker
He smiles and hands Vaughn the ball back. Vaughn returns the
smile and accepts the ball. While Dorn trots back to his
position, Vaughn turns his back to the plate for one last
moment of concentration. As he turns around to face us, we
see a new man as the wicked opening CHORDS of X's "Wild Thing"
are heard on the TRACK, only louder and more savage than
Vaughn steps up on the rubber, his face hardened into fierce
resolve. There's nothing nervous about him now. This kid is
gonna make somebody pay.
Haywood steps in, the American League
triple crown winner. .341 average,
48 homers, 121 R.B.I.'s. He's homered
the only two times he's faced Vaughn.
Taylor sets down a sign. Two fingers for the curve ball.
Vaughn shakes it off. Taylor puts down another sign. Vaughn
shakes it off. Finally, Taylor puts down one finger -- the
fast ball. Vaughn nods with steely purpose.
All right, Ricky, let's get nasty.
Vaughn winds and delivers a hissing blur toward the plate.
Haywood takes a ferocious swing and misses. Strike one.
We see the number 97 come up on the digital readout of the
SPEED GUN which a club employee holds behind the screen.
All right, looks like the boy is
pumped. Sucker was movin', wasn't
it? Ever hit ya, it'd leave a two
foot hole comin' out.
Taylor gets ready to flash another sign. The convict jumps
up and down trying to distract Vaughn. No way.
(for Haywood's ears)
Let's see, what should we call now.
Let's see how he feels about old
Taylor puts down one finger. Vaughn nods and then winds and
fires again, another blazing rocket. Haywood takes a wicked
rip, but doesn't get it. Strike two. 99 comes up on the gun.
The convict has stopped jumpin'.
Nice swing, Haywood. Good follow-
through. Keep it up, I'll show you
the ball sometime.
The fans are going wild. They're all standing now, yelling
for a strikeout. Vaughn gets back up on the rubber with the
look of an animal sighting prey. Taylor gets down to give
DUGOUT (INSERT STORYBOARD # 216R)
Forget the curveball. Go with the
Well, shit, all these pitches to
choose from. Maybe we'll try somethin'
different this time.
Taylor wiggles his fingers around and then puts down the big
No. 1. Vaughn gives him a quick nod.
And if I don't see you again, Haywood,
have a nice winter. Okay, buddy?
Vaughn goes into his windup and unleashes a screaming bullet
toward the plate. Haywood pulls the trigger, but it's already
by him. Strike three. 101 on the gun. Taylor leaps up and
gives Vaughn the fist. The fans are going berserk. MUSIC
Oh, Lordy, three straight heaters
and the Yankees are blown down. No
runs, two hits, three left on, and,
are you ready, Cleveland? We go to
the bottom of the ninth, still tied
Doyle turns the mike off.
(to his color man)
Can you believe this, Monty?
Monty takes a big swig straight from the bourbon bottle.
Sequence omitted from original script.
ANOTHER INDIAN HITTER
grounding out to short.
walking up to the plate.
Two down in the ninth, Hayes steps
in hitting .291, trying to get
something going for the Tribe.
Taylor and the others yell encouragement to Hayes as he digs
in at the plate. The Yankee pitcher delivers and Hayes hits
a high bouncer toward short. The shortstop waits for it to
come down and then fires to first. Too late. Hayes streaks
across the bag, beating the throw by a hair. Once again the
CROWD comes to life.
The Yankee Manager comes to the mound and waves for a new
And Horton is wasting no time. He's
goin' to the Duke.
Out of the pen comes BILLY DUKE, a good facsimile of Goose
Gossage only Duke is bigger and meaner.
(INSERT STORYBOARD #219M)
Duke leads the league in saves,
strikeouts per inning and nose hairs.
The Duke finishes his warmups and stares over at Hayes. Hayes
smiles, snaps his black gloves out of his hip pocket, and
carefully pulls them on over his hands.
The Duke does not care for this kind of showmanship.
Brown comes over to talk to Taylor, who's been watching Duke
from the on-deck circle.
Ya know I'd be an ass not to pinch-
hit for you here. You're 0 for 18
against Duke. Plus you're beat to
shit you can hardly walk, there's no
way you can get around on this guy's
fast ball. So I want the absolute
truth here. Can you beat this guy?
Taylor starts for the plate, as Duke finishes his warmups.
Brown comes down the dugout steps.
Send Hayes the first pitch. I don't
want Taylor takin' too many strikes.
Pepper begins flashing signs out to Hayes. Duke gets up on
the rubber and takes his stretch. Hayes leads away, crouching
low. Duke snaps a throw over to first, the first baseman
slapping a hard tag on Hayes, but Hayes is back.
The crowd is on its feet again. The "GO" chant starts,
punctuated by thousands of black-gloved hands punching the
Duke comes set again. Hayes leads away. Duke watches him,
checks him again. We go to SLOW MOTION as Duke kicks and
comes to the plate.
Hayes takes off like a shot, head down, eating up ground.
Taylor swings and misses. The Yankee catcher comes up
throwing, rifling a clothesline dart to second base. Hayes
leaves his feet diving for the bag. The second baseman snaps
down the tag. Too late. Hayes is in there.
The stadium is really rockin' now. Duke prowls the mound.
Taylor steps out of the box and flashes a sign to Brown.
What's he doing?
Flashing some signals. That's a hell
of an idea.
Brown flashes a sign out to Hayes. A hint of a smile comes
over Hayes' face as he dusts himself off.
Taylor steps back in as Duke gets up on the rubber. Taylor
digs in his back foot, then points to the left field bleachers
ala Babe Ruth.
What's this? Taylor is pointing to
the bleachers, calling his shot.
The crowd, electrified by Taylor's gesture, remains on its
feet. Duke stares in at Taylor, comes to his stretch and
then lets go a steaming fast ball right at Taylor's head.
Taylor goes down in a swirl of dust, the ball missing him by
inches. The stadium explodes with BOOS, but as soon as Taylor
picks himself up, the crowd begins to ROAR again.
Bobby, Vic and Johnny are pounding out a heavy beat on the
TOM-TOMS. Everyone in the stadium begins to CLAP in unison
with the DRUMS.
Taylor steps back in and once again points to the bleachers.
(Taylor points again)
Unbelievable. They're on their feet
here, stomping, clapping. C'mon,
join in wherever you are out there.
Let's hear you, Cleveland.
and several of their friends at their bar, huddled around
the RADIO with the punks and heavy metal kids we saw before.
Slowly they begin to clap in time with the tom-toms which
are audible on the T.V.
THE BUSINESS EXECUTIVE
at the opera with his wife, a radio earplug in his ear. His
hand taps on his leg in sync with the TOM-TOMS.
THE TWO KOREAN GROUNDSKEEPERS
(Sc 222 before scene 221) beating on their shovels in the
LARGE APARTMENT BUILDING
FRAMED against the Cleveland skyline. In several of the lit
windows we see people banging things or clapping.
THE STADIUM AGAIN
Duke gets back on the hill. Getting the sign he wants, he
comes to his stretch, checking Hayes at second.
As Duke starts his delivery to the plate, we go to SLOW
MOTION. The clapping in the stadium stops as everyone hushes
to watch the pitch. We...
THE LONGSHOREMEN, THE BUSINESS EXECUTIVE, THE GROUNDSKEEPERS
AND THE APARTMENT DWELLERS
They've all stopped too in anticipation of the pitch.
Everything from here on will continue to be in SLOW MOTION.
As Duke whips his arm toward the plate, Hayes takes off for
third. Taylor, instead of swinging away, shortens up on the
bat and bunts Duke's pitch down the third base line.
The Yankee third baseman, caught completely unaware, charges
the ball frantically.
barreling down the line toward first on his sore legs, giving
it everything he's got.
THE THIRD BASEMAN
scooping up the ball barehanded and firing on the run to
pounding down the line. He strains for the bag as the Yankee
first baseman stretches to his limit for the throw. Taylor
and the ball arrive at almost the same time. Taylor hits the
bag and then sprawls in the dirt as his knees give out.
The umpire brings up his arms, and spreads them wide. Safe.
Taylor's beaten it.
The first baseman looks up to see something that strikes
fear into his heart across the field. It's...
streaking for home, trying to score all the way from second
on a bunt.
The first baseman fires to the plate, as the catcher positions
himself for the throw. Hayes launches into a flying feet-
first slide. The catcher brings the tag down. Hayes hooks to
the outside, his trailing foot reaching for the plate.
Hayes is gonna try to score! Here
comes the throw. He slides. He is...
Hayes' foot catches the corner of the plate. The umpire puts
the palms down and whips them apart. It's all over, folks.
SLOW MOTION ENDS
...Safe. The Indians win it. The
Indians win. Oh my God, the Indians
Pandemonium breaks loose in Municipal Stadium. Rachel hugs
Donovan, dances around, punches the air, then hugs Donovan
again. Everywhere people are hugging and kissing each other.
Bobby, Vic and Johnny are going berserk in the bleachers.
Thelma sits quietly, a tear rolling down her cheek.
of our other fans. We see...
A) The Business Executive stand up and yell "Yes!" in the
middle of the opera. Several other men stand up and express
their excitement as well.
B) The Longshoremen whoop it up in their bar -- exchanging
fives and hugs with the punkers and heavy metal kids.
C) The various apartment dwellers dancing, clapping, yelling
out the windows.
D) The two Korean Groundskeepers just shaking their heads in
E) Elsewhere in the stadium, the joyous exultation continues
unabated. The crowd pours onto the field as Hayes runs toward
Taylor and literally leaps into his arms.
F) The two spin around throwing their fists in the air.
G) Cerrano and Harris embrace. Dorn gives Vaughn a hug, then
steps back and decks him with a right hand.
H) Dorn pulls Vaughn back to his feet, and they hug again.
I) Up in the stands, Rachel watches all this with tears in
Taylor starts off the field when he sees something that
catches his eye. Standing by the field rail is Lynn. She
holds up her left hand and smiles. There's no ring on it.
Taylor races over to her as she jumps down from the rail and
hugs herself to him. We HOLD on the celebration as it swirls
all around them, and...
Writers : David S. Ward
Genres : Comedy