Major League: Back to the Minors Page #3

Gus Cantrell?

Remember me?

Rube Baker. I thought

you were with San Diego.

I was. Little control problem

came creeping back to haunt me.

Trouble making the throw to second?

Yeah, second...

And first.

Third a little. Still have trouble

getting it back to the pitcher.

Come on, I don't believe that. Just take

a deep breath, rear back and let her rip.

- Mom, they did it again!

- See what I mean?

You're a little bit off the mark,

but don't worry,

we'll get you straightened out.

You want me to go get that?

Don't worry about it.

Just keep warming him up.

- Good seeing you, Rube.

- Good seeing you, Gus.

Got any more balls?

I remember Gus Cantrell

from the old California AA league.

It was before Diet Coke became my beverage

of choice. Gus was a pretty fair pitcher.

But he'll have to be more than

pretty fair to turn this bunch

into anything that resembles

a baseball team.

Perplexed? Carlton Windgate, pitcher.

Everyone calls me Doc.

Gus Cantrell, manager.

Everybody calls me... Gus.

- Delighted to make your acquaintance.

- Yeah. Likewise.

So you have a question regarding

the scorecard?

As a matter of fact there

seems to be a mistake.

You've got Juan Lopez at second

and Juan Lopez at short.

It's no mistake. Juan!

- Hello Coach.

- Buenos das.

- Brothers?

- Twins.

- With the same name?

- Confounding isn't it?

Confounding seems to be

the word of the day.

Listen, from now on,

you're going to be Juan One.

- And you're gonne be Juan Two.

- Sounds good, Coach.

But... by numbering them, you risk

stifling their identities

and squelching their self esteem.

I don't wanna be rude here, Doc,

but how would you like to be Juan 3?

So a routine throw becomes a

2-base throwing error.

Mr. Buzz almost got nailed

by that missile.

And we all might be better off

had he got nailed.

All right, Lance! Shake it off, buddy!

Shake it off! Get the next one, bud!

Lance the dance had a

slippery one that time.

They don't call him

Ol' Stone Hands for nothing.

I've seen better hands on a clock.

Juan 1 has the ball,

still time to make the throw.

No, Juan 2 has the ball!

Hey, wait a second! It's a brawl!

Here we go again.

Come on, cut it out, you guys!

The brothers Lopez are going at it.

Juan 2 looks hurt.

No! Here he comes fighting back!

He connects with a right! Whoo! What a shot!

- Stop it! You can't play ball,

- I'll kill you!

You! You! You're both out of here!

So all Juan Lopezes concerned

get the heave-ho.

And right about now, Gus Cantrell

has gotta be wondering

why he ever took this job.

You know, fans, it's games like this

that used to get me overmedicated.

Just keep hitting them up the middle,

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