The Indians are now a World Series contender. But last year's hunger is now replaced with complacency, and bad decisions by the new owner threaten to tear the team apart.

Harry Doyle: [drunk] So, Hiroshi "Kamikaze" Tanaka, recently of the Tokyo Giants, knocks himself cold for the second time this week. Maybe in Japan, that's actually better than catching the ball. Personally, I think he's just trying to get out of the lineup.
Harry Doyle: So a tough loss for the Indians as Pedro Cerrano doubles off a pigeon and is tagged out while administering CPR before the tying run could score. Funny game ain't it Monty?
Monte: Well at least the bird survived.
Harry Doyle: Who cares? It's a rat with wings.
Lou Brown: OK, we won a game yesterday. If we win today, it's called "two in a row". And if we win again tomorrow, it's called a "winning streak"... It has happened before!
Lou Brown: Come on, you're not going to let her get you down, are you? You guys won last year just to spite her. Maybe, she's what we need.
Jake Taylor: Oh, Skip, they were a different team last year.
Lou Brown: Taylor, it's not your job to make excuses. That's all you guys do good! It's either a *leg* thing or a *spiritual* thing, or a *psychological* thing, or a *heart attack*!
Jake Taylor: Who used heart attack?
Lou Brown: Me.
[collapses from a heart attack]
Jake Taylor: Rube, you look at Playboy all the time, don't you?
Rube Baker: I don't just look at it. I read the articles.
Jake Taylor: Sure you do.
Rube Baker: I do. I especially like it when they mention the girls' interests, like Betsy loves surfing.
Jake Taylor: You even memorize them?
Rube Baker: Yep. I guess I do.
Jake Taylor: Bingo.
Jake Taylor: [Seeing Vaughn coming back into the dugout] Hey, didn't I tell you to go to the bullpen.
Rick Vaughn: We're down by 10 runs, Jake.
Jake Taylor: Well you can still get some work in.
Rick Vaughn: I've had enough of that maniac out there.
Jake Taylor: [after seeing Rube Baker get hit with a pitch] Hayes, go run for Rube.
Willie Mays Hayes: My legs hurtin'.
Roger Dorn: [Stands up] I'll run.
[Jake sits him down]
Jake Taylor: Rube's hurting worse than you. Now get in there.
Willie Mays Hayes: The Gutless Wonder doesn't have to pitch. Why should I have to run?
Rick Vaughn: Who you calling a Gutless Wonder, Tin Man?
Willie Mays Hayes: Tin Man? I got genuine leg injury here, pal.
Rick Vaughn: That limp is the best acting you've done all year.
Willie Mays Hayes: [Grabs Vaughn by the arm] Well at least I don't have some Cover Girl dragging me around by my Johnson.
Tanaka: [after find out Phelps has bought the team] Miss Phelps.
[Speaking in Japanese]
Tanaka: May you be mounted by a rabid dog. You're lower than rat excrement.
Harry Doyle: Cerrano doing some interesting limbering up exercises in right.
Harry Doyle: [covers microphone] What a pansy!
[batter hits a fly ball]
Harry Doyle: Here's a fly ball hit to right. Easy play for Cerrano, under it now, and makes the catch...
[ball hits Cerrano's glove and goes over fence]
Harry Doyle: No, that ball is off his glove and outta here! So credit Cerrano with an RBI, and that play could be a finalist in the Trojan-Enz Boner of the Week Award.
Tanaka: [to Rachel] Miss Phelps!
[in Japanese]
Tanaka: May you be mounted by a rabid dog. You're lower than rat excrement.
Willie Mays Hayes: [talking about the promo for his film] That spot didn't show the real dramatic parts, like when they kill my boa constrictor and I vow revenge.
Jake Taylor: Oh.
Harry Doyle: My God! Good news fans, the Indians are showing signs of life for the first time in weeks. As a matter of fact they appear to be beating the crap out of each other. It looks like Willie Hayes is trying to hit Rick Vaughn, and why not, everyone else in the league does. Hayes swings and misses. I don't know Monte, it looks like Vaughn is carrying his left a little low. This could hurt him in the later rounds.
Rebecca Flannery: You were so wonderful out there, Rick. The General Cereals reps are here.
Suit #1: Great game, Rick. We'd like to offer you a 3 year...
Rick Vaughn: Sorry, fellas, but you got the wrong guy. I'm sure you make a great cereal, but I like my hair the way it is. I don't get up in time to eat breakfast anyway.
Rebecca Flannery: Rick, what are you saying?
Rick Vaughn: You're a great gal, Flannery. Much too good for me. Take a hike.
Rick Vaughn: [about a pitch he threw and a hitter hit it for a home run] . I threw him a 87 MPH fastball, and he crushed it. Last year, I averaged 96, now when I reached back it's just not there. I can't believe that I forgotten how to throw heat.
Rick Vaughn: [Tosses baseball up in the air as he lays on the couch] You think you can help me with my fastball, Doc?
Psychiatrist: We'll have to deal with some deeper issues first.
Rick Vaughn: [Continues tossing ball] I don't have any deeper issues. I like to keep things right on the surface.
Psychiatrist: [Catches the ball] Well sometimes there are little surprises. Tell me, Rick. What goes through your mind when you throw your fastball?
Rick Vaughn: I wonder if it's gonna end up in the catcher's mit or some guy's den.
Psychiatrist: Did you used to think this way?
Rick Vaughn: I didn't used to think at all. It takes a lot out of you, you know?
Psychiatrist: Well then, Rick, let's get down to it.
[Closes pad and takes off glasses]
Psychiatrist: The real problem here goes back to when you stole that car. You wanted to be caught, didn't you? Punished. Otherwise you wouldn't have thrown the 0 and 2 fastball to Fields when everybody knows he'll chase the 2 strike curveball in the dirt.
Rick Vaughn: I had already thrown him two curveballs. The second one, he hit 436 feet foul.
Psychiatrist: Better than 520 feet fair.
Jack Parkman: I've got your timing now. I bet you don't have enough hair on your ass to throw me another.
Rick Vaughn: Well, here it comes, Parkman. The ol' number 1, the Terminator. You get a piece, you can rename it.
Willie Mays Hayes: [sees that Rube's injured] Lucky son of a gun. At least you ain't gotta hang around to play the second game, right?
[walks away]
Rube Baker: Hey, Willie. Willie! I can't believe you said that. Shit! I talked to a boy in the bleachers the other day who hales from downtown. He told me the most grass he's ever seen in his whole life is the patch that we get to play on everyday.
[to the team]
Rube Baker: We're in the goldarn major leagues, boys. I don't know about any of you, but I've been waiting my whole life to get here. And I'll be damned if I'm gonna act like my best pig died just cuz we ain't doin' so good. I love to play baseball and I'll bet, somewhere along the line, you all did too.
[turns to Jake]
Rube Baker: I'm ready to play ball if you need me. My Dad figured I wouldn't amount to much except... well, I never came up with anything, but I know I can play ball a little. And a day of playin' ball is better than what most people have to do for a living. So just put me in someplace.
Jake Taylor: Say Parkman, I just want to say that even though we're competing for the same position, I'm glad they signed you. You're a good ball player.
Jack Parkman: Cut the crap, Taylor. I don't like you and you don't like me. Just don't blame your bum knees when I take your job.
Harry Doyle: Well fans, Roger Dorn has done a little redecorating around the ballpark. The outfield walls now look like the yellow pages. And any of you folks having trouble finding a good proctologist, might want to come down here and check out the area around the 375 foot sign. As for the game, we've got a real nailbiter here tonight. It's a lot closer than that 11-2 score.
Jack Parkman: Ooh, must be tough to be old.
[Rick Vaughn is pitching to Jack Parkman during practice]
Jack Parkman: What do you call that garbage?
Rick Vaughn: It's my eliminator. I've got another pitch. You get a piece of it, I'll let you name it.
[Vaughn pitches and Parman hits the ball out of the park]
Jack Parkman: I'd, uh, call it the masturbator.
Jake Taylor: Rube, what's going through your head just before you throw the ball back to the pitcher?
Rube Baker: I'm thinking, "Damn, I don't want to screw this up."
Jake Taylor: Well, what are you thinking when you throw a strike to nail the runner down at second base?
Rube Baker: Well, I, I'm not thinking nothing. I just throw it.
Jake Taylor: You see what I'm getting at?
Rube Baker: You want the pitcher to pitch from second base?
Jake Taylor: [frustrated, blank look] Oooogh.
Willie Mays Hayes: Told you I wasn't gonna slide!
Jack Parkman: You got a long way to go peckerhead
Willie Mays Hayes: That's Mr. Peckerhead to you, PAL!
Rebecca Flannery: [On the phone] Listen, Meg, I'm thinking of coming to LA. I don't know if Rick and I are good for each other right now. I mean, the team is showing signs of life, but his ERA is over 6 and he hasn't got a clue on how to get it back on track. It's depressing. Serious with Vaughn? He's a lot of fun, but I need someone with a little more class.
[Finds Rick waiting downstairs]
Rick Vaughn: My shrink was sick.
Harry Doyle: He'll need a rocket up his ass to catch that one; that baby's out of here.
Roger Dorn: As General Manager of this team, I demand to know when I'm getting a start.
Jake Taylor: There's an old timer's game coming soon.
Bobby: Just think, after this game we'll be going to the World Series.
Johnny: Yeah, in Chicago.
[after Hayes calls a shot to left field and flies out to left for the second time]
Harry Doyle: You know, he could be pointing at the left fielder.
Tanaka: You know, you have no... you have no...
[looks in translation book]
Tanaka: Marbles!
Cerrano: Marbles?
Tanaka: Marbles! You have no marbles!
Cerrano: Marbles?
[gets mad]
Cerrano: Huevos?
Harry Doyle: [after Rube reaches base on a severely sprained ankle] Well, The Indians have a runner. I think I'll wet my pants.
Valet: Mr. Vaughn, I thought you were starting tonight.
Rick Vaughn: I did.
Valet: Oh, sorry. I didn't tune in until the 2nd inning.
Harry Doyle: You know I used to hate Parkman when he was with the A's. It's amazing how a new uniform can change your attitude about a guy.
[covers Mic]
Harry Doyle: He's still a dick.
Nikki Reese: [Rick Vaughn shakes off fastball] He's afraid of his fastball.
Jack Parkman: He's screwed.
Johnny: You're screwed Vaughn.
Tanaka: [in Japanese] He's dicked.
[Vaughn is lamenting the long home run he gave up in his first game]
Rick Vaughn: Oh, yeah? Name one park in America that ball wouldn't have gone out of.
Nikki Reese: Yellowstone.
Jack Parkman: [after knocking down Baker, who loses the ball] Welcome to the Bug Leagues, Hayseed. Next time, don't stand on the tracks when the train's coming through.
Harry Doyle: Tribe fans, we're one out away from our second consecutive divisional title. Rick Vaughn has gone 3 and 2 to Mel Koskie. Here's the pitch. Ball four, and he walked him. That's going to bring the tying run to the plate for the Toronto Blue Jays. A little excitement here at the end. I know I wouldn't have it any other way, and I'm sure you folks feel the same.
[takes out a bottle of Jack Daniel's whiskey]
[Jake and Rube are discussing Rube's problems as a catcher]
Jake Taylor: What exactly is your problem?
Rube Baker: Well, uh...
[a limo's horn sounds and the limo pulls up]
Rube Baker: Well, uh... hell that's the biggest damn car I ever saw.
Willie Mays Hayes: [an entourage of eleven people gets out of the car, followed by Willie] Say Jake! Oh-hooo! Ha-ha!
Rube Baker: Who are they?
Jake Taylor: [stunned] They are our centerfielder.
Rick Vaughn: [Parkman visits Vaughn at the mound after Vaughn gives up three straight hits] What?
Jack Parkman: WHAT? They're hammering the slow crap. Think your arm can handle the strain of throwing this guy a fastball?
Rick Vaughn: Look, I'll throw it, you just make sure you catch it.
Jack Parkman: I will if it ever gets to me.
Harry Doyle: [about Willie Mays Hayes] Went to see his movie but it was only out for two and a half hours. I was told, however, that it was in focus.
Rube Baker: [when Parkman is up to bat, facing Vaughn] Mr. Parkman, you're a good ball player, but I want to say, that you're standing on the tracks and the train's is about to come through, bonehead.
Harry Doyle: Well he's gonna walk Beck to pitch to Parkman obviously Taylor's thinking... I don't know WHAT the hell he's thinking.
Cerrano: [goes up to bat] Parkman, my good friend. How you doing?
Jack Parkman: Look at the scoreboard, Buddha, I'm doing just fine.
Cerrano: That last pitch man: that was beautiful.
[hits home run]
Cerrano: Not as beautiful as that though!
Cerrano: [to Parkman after rounding the bases] Look. At. The. Scoreboard. Now, Grasshopper!
Rube Baker: My momma always said, "It's better to eat shit than to not eat at all."
Tanaka: [in Japanese] Let's beat their brains in!
Rube Baker: Women: you can't live with them, and they can't pee standing up.
Harry Doyle: Rick Vaughn gets the starting call today. We're told he matured a lot over the winter. Apparently he's bathing now. Congratulations, Rick. As you know, Monte, Vaughn's been working on a couple of new pitches, the Eliminator and the Humilator, to complement his fastball, the Terminator.
Monte: I heard that.
Harry Doyle: Dynamite drop-in, Monte. That broadcast school has really paid off.
Lou Brown: Parkman, I saw your little interview in this morning's paper. You're benched for two games and if you ever rip any of your teammates like that,
Jack Parkman: [interrupting] Save your breath.
Lou Brown: What did you just say?
Jack Parkman: You oughta listen to the radio more, Lou. Your biggest gun just got traded to Chicago. As a matter of fact, your only gun. Au revoir.
Jake Taylor: [after Rube get's hit by a pitch] Hayes, go run for Rube.
Willie Mays Hayes: My leg's hurtin'.
Roger Dorn: [stands up] I'll run.
Jake Taylor: [sits Dorn back down] Rube's hurting worse than you. Now get in there!
Willie Mays Hayes: [pointing to Vaughn] If the gutless wonder doesn't have to pitch than why should I have to run?
Rick Vaughn: [gets up] Who are you calling a gutless wonder, tin man?
Willie Mays Hayes: Tin man?
[gets up limping]
Willie Mays Hayes: I got a genuine leg injury here, pal.
Rick Vaughn: And that limp is the best acting you've done all year.
[turns around to leave]
Willie Mays Hayes: [turns Vaughn around] Well at least I don't have some cover girl dragging me around by my johnson.
[Vaughn tackles Hayes as he walks away, starting a brawl]
[first lines]
Harry Doyle: Hello everybody. Harry Doyle here, welcoming all you Wahoo maniacs to the year's first session of Tribe Talk. As you know, the Indians had a Cinderella season last year. Despite the fact that *toxic* owner Rachel Phelps wanted the team to lose so she could move it to Florida, the Indians won the American League East for the first time since divisional play began. Rachel's gone now, thank God, having sold the team to retired Indian third baseman Roger Dorn, after a long, hard fought series of negotiations.
[flashback to negotiations]
Roger Dorn: Mmmight be willing to go as high as a hundred.
Rachel Phelps: 120.
Roger Dorn: 120? Rachel, you just started at 110!
Rachel Phelps: 130!
Roger Dorn: Rachel, this isn't fair!
Rachel Phelps: 140!
Roger Dorn: [desperately begging] 130!
Rachel Phelps: 150!
Roger Dorn: [immediately gives in] We'll take it!
Rachel Phelps: Oooh, you're good Dorn.
Harry Doyle: [scene returns to radio show] Even with Dorn in the owner's box, the Indians are solid favorites to repeat in the East, and to go all the way to the World Series. And why not? Look at the lineup we have coming back. First of all, the Cuban Crusher, the voodoo man with a bad attitude, Pedro Cerrano. Even though his training methods were a little unusual, Pedro finished in the top five in homers, RBI's, slugging percentage and total baldness. Also back is centerfielder Willie May Hayes, who came out of nowhere to lead the league in great catches and stolen bases. We're told he starred in an action movie during the offseason, where he not only did his own stunts, but even his own acting. And don't forget about catcher and team leader Jake Taylor. Despite chronic knee problems he had a fine season, and beat out the bunt that drove in the run that won the division title. And finally one of the brightest young stars in the game today, Rick "Wild Thing" Vaughn. Vaughn began the season in the uniform of the California Penal League and had some control problems early on. But with the help of a pair of black hornrims, he went on to set a Major League record for strikeouts in a season by an ex-carcy. All in all, things couldn't be looking better for the Tribe.
Johnny: [seeing Rick Vaughn coming out of the dugout and heading into the bullpen] Vile Thing, I think I *loathe* you! You did think I'd abandon you, did you Vaughn? You human piece of cow slop! You big steaming pile of mastodon dung! Bring out the pooper scooper! You bush league no-talent flash in the pan choke artist! Huh?
[Vaughn starts to walk back to the dugout]
Johnny: Hey, where you going, Vaughn, huh? You looking for your Terminator, Vaughn? Yeah, you go back in there, Vaughn!
[Harry is drunk when he introduces the game]
Harry Doyle: Hello, Tribe fans, welcome to Major League Baseball... sort of. The attendance today is 14 hundred and 12. Most of them left after that 10 run inning the Red Sox put up. Take over Monty, I'm in the bag.
[head hits desk]
Monte: [as the outfielder catches the ball, the crowd is disappointed] Fly ball... Caught!
Jake Taylor: [visiting Lou in the hospital] Hey, you're lookin' good, Lou.
Lou Brown: Forget about me. I'm fine. You gotta talk to the team, Jake. Give 'em hell. Let 'em know they're too damn good to roll over and play dead.
Jake Taylor: Will do, Skip. And, hey, we'll win this one for you.
[goes to leave]
Lou Brown: Hey, Taylor.
Lou Brown: Promise me one thing.
Jake Taylor: Sure. What?
Lou Brown: When you talk to the team, don't give 'em one of them "let's win one for Lou" corny speeches. I couldn't stand that.
Rube Baker: Mr. Parkman, your a great ballplayer and I just like to say, your standing on the tracks and the train's coming through butthead.
Harry Doyle: [Drinking whiskey, and sounding drunk] Hello, fans. Welcome back to major league baseball, sort of. Today's attendende is...
[Looks at his paper]
Harry Doyle: 1,214. Most of them left after the 10-run inning the red Sox put up, take over Monte, I'm in the bag.
[Passes out on the desk]
Monte: [Slightly excited] Me?
[Sees Cerrano hit a line drive]
Monte: Fly ball,
[sees the Red Sox right fielder catch the ball]
Monte: caught.
[Then, sees the Indians fight each other]
Monte: Hey, wake up.
Harry Doyle: What? My god. the Indians are showing signs of life in weeks.
[Willie and Rick are about to punch each other]
Harry Doyle: It seems that Willie Mays Hayes is trying to hit Vaughn, who blames him, everybody else in the league does.
[Rick tries to puch Willie , who ducks out of the way]
Harry Doyle: Vaughn is hanging his left a little low, this could hurt him in the later rounds.
Jake Taylor: You know, Rick, I may have to use you tomorrow in the late innings. Pitching staff's pretty overworked.
Rick Vaughn: Yeah. So? I'll be ready.
Jake Taylor: Ready, huh? Ready to what? Run and hide if the game's on the line?
Rick Vaughn: I don't get it, Jake. What's your problem?
Jake Taylor: You're the problem. You used to be the toughest guy on this team. Now you're trying to prop yourself up with the right woman or the right shrink or God knows what else. You want to be a major league pitcher? You have to find something in yourself that yours and nobody else's. You had that once, Rick. And if I were you, I spend the rest of the night trying to find it again. Without it, you're no good to me or the team.
[Jake leaves]
Rick Vaughn: What an asshole. What an amazing asshole. I thought he was my friend. Why is everybody so threatened by me improving myself?
[Looks in the mirror, sighs]
Rick Vaughn: What an asshole.
Johnny: Vile thing, you make my butt sting! I detest you! You're all garbage, all of ya! Back up the truck, back it up!
Harry Doyle: [drunk] Bottom of the 9th, Cleveland down 1 to nothing. Baker steps in he's 0 for... I don't know. Who cares? The pitch
[Baker hits a slow roller and limps down the line]
Harry Doyle: Baker swings and sends a *real screamer* towards short. Ah wrap up with it, fires to first... and Baker beats it with a head-first slide. So the Indians have a runner. I think I'll wet my pants.
Rube Baker: When the tough get goin', go an' get tough.
Johnny: [after Taylor signals to the bullpen] He wants the righty, he wants the Mild Thing, the grab your throat and choke thing.
Rick Vaughn: Shove it up your ass, lard mouth.
Johnny: Oh my god, Oh my god!
Rube Baker: Hey. Ya know Ricky, breaking up with a girlfriend can be a very painful thing. But it don't have to keep ya down for long. I mean, let me tell ya something from my own personal experience. I've never had a regular girlfriend like you, but I did get kicked in the balls once by a mule. Now, I thought I would be hurting for the rest of my life. But you know what happened the very next week?
Rick Vaughn: What?
Rube Baker: My momma died. Hell, after that, I didn't care no more about my balls hurtin'. You see what I'm gettin' at?
Rube Baker: They're going to send me back to Omaha and I don't even live there!
Rube Baker: Hey, Cerrano. I'm on the rooster.
Jack Parkman: I'm the only winner on this team. The rest of 'em, they're losers. Either by choice, or by birth.
Harry Doyle: We're in the top of the 9th inning leading 10-7, bases loaded, two down, and Rick Vaughn has come on to try to nail it down against Felipe Aguilar, a dangerous right-handed batter. Here's the pitch.
[Aguilar crushes it]
Harry Doyle: Aww, shit.
Johnny, Bobby, Vic: [in unison] No! No! No!
Harry Doyle: If that's not Shaquille O'Neal in left, that baby's outta here.
Johnny: [catches the ball in the stands for a home run] NO! You rotten bums! You overpaid weenies! Mild thing, you make my butt sting! I *detest* you! You're all garbage! All of ya! Back up the truck! Back it up!
Lou Brown: How can you sell my best player without asking me?
Roger Dorn: I'm on my ass, tapped out. I'm even going to be able to make next month's payroll.
Lou Brown: Geez.
Roger Dorn: But I didn't sell Parkman outright. I got you an outfielder. He used to play for the Giants.
Lou Brown: Franklin?
Roger Dorn: Not those Giants.
[Willie is in his first at-bat and points his bat to the left field fence]
Harry Doyle: And look at this. Willie Mays Hayes is calling his shot.
Johnny: All right Willie! Right here!
Rube Baker: What's he pointing at? Does he know somebody out there!
Harry Doyle: Hayes steps in and gets his pitch. There's a swing and it's going toward left. And it is...
[Willie hits the ball and the left fielder catches it at the warning track]
Harry Doyle: Not quite gone.
Willie Mays Hayes: That had to be the wind.
Johnny: It must have been the wind.
Rube Baker: Wow, Willie's really got some power.
Lou Brown: Off a guy who'll be bagging groceries in a couple of weeks!

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