Major League Page #2

Willie Mays Hayes here.

Jake Taylor here.

Rick Vaughn.

What the hell league

you been playing in?

California Penal.

Never heard of it.

Well, how'd you end up playing there?

Stole a car.

Hey, big guy. You a golfer?

Hats for bats.

Yeah. What's your handicap?

Keep bats warm.

Gracias.

Whoa, amigo, I...

You can't...

You're welcome.

This is the guy

that wasn't invited to the camp.

Let's take his ass out.

Sh*t! I've been cut already?

Who the hell is that?

Get him a uniform.

All right.

Did you get enough hay for him?

You sure?

Take good care of it, all right? All right.

Hey, Jake. How's the knees holding up?

Great. Never been better.

Mobility's good? No problem

getting off the throw to second?

No problemo.

I need a catcher, Jake,

somebody who can lead this team

on the field.

So, I want the absolute truth here.

Are you 100%?

Yeah. Would I bullshit you

about something like that?

You better,

if you wanna make this team.

Second base!

Sh*t.

Hold it. Hold it.

Well, you may run like Mays,

but you hit like sh*t.

With your speed,

you should hit the ball on the ground

and be legging them out.

Every time I see you hit one in the air,

you owe me 20 pushups.

Hey, no problem.

Sh*t.

All right, Vaughn,

they tell us you're a pitcher.

You're sure not much of a dresser.

We wear caps and sleeves

at this level, son.

Understood?

All right, let's see what you can do.

- Nice velocity.

- Sounded like it.

Jesus.

How much?

Better teach this kid some control

before he kills somebody.

Come on, Dorn.

Get in front of the damn ball.

Don't give me this ol bullshit.

Look, I took one of those

in the eye last year.

I'm not about to lose my sight.

I'm deeply moved.

Every time you play one off your hips,

you owe me 40 sit-ups.

What?

Jesus. This guy hits a ton.

How come nobody else

picked up on him?

Okay, Eddie, that's enough fastballs.

Throw him some breaking balls.

Lou, I want a word with you here.

Sure.

About those sit-ups you want me to do,

I got it right here in my contract.

Says I don't have to do any calisthenics

I don't feel are necessary.

So, what do you think about that?

Two hundred pushups. How am I

supposed to hit if I can't lift my arms?

Sh*t.

The way I played today,

I wouldn't be surprised

if they red-tagged me already.

What do you mean?

You get a red tag on your locker,

it means the manager wants to see you

because you just died

and went down to the minors.

Hey, don't worry, kid.

They ain't gonna cut anybody

the first day.

What's that sh*t on your chest?

Crisco.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes