Mr 3000

You don't like me because

I don't sign autographs.

You don't like me because

I don't smile for the camera.

You don't like me because

I don't suck up to the press.

You don't like me

because I make a lot of money.

But you love me.

Because I'm one of

the greatest hitters alive.

We're back in Milwaukee,

and the sound you hear reverberating

across the cities and farms

of the great state of Wisconsin

is the roar of the Brewer faithful

for their longtime hero, Stan Ross.

And here he comes

with that trademark arrogant scowl.

2,999 hits to date

in his illustrious career.

Will this at bat, July 29, 1995,

against the rookie right-hander

Billy Earll, be the historic moment

when Ross joins

only 20 other major leaguers

in that elite 3,000-hit club?

Stan, you gonna be the best-looking cat

in the Hall of Fame,

that's for doggone sure.

Yo, scrub. You want my autograph now

or after I make history?

You ain't getting this hit off me.

This is gonna be

your one career highlight.

You're gonna be

a game-show answer, partner.

- Well, I'll take "Kiss my ass" for 1,000.

- Make it 3,000.

You hear that?

You hear the language on that rookie?

Kiss my ass.

How about you, Ernie? I guess you're

gonna tell me to kiss your ass, too?

- Why don't you suck my...

- I'll show you what "Kiss my ass" look like.

Dammit, Joe. He know better

than to get me pissed off.

Well, no pitcher wants to be the one

that gives up that 3,000th base hit.

Clearly, young Earll

just sent that message -

a purpose pitch to get Ross angry.

Come on, Stan, this is the one.

You know what I'm talking about.

Hope he trips and breaks his leg.

Oh, my.

It's a vicious line drive off Earll's...

Well, it's a bell-ringing base hit.

That's what it is.

- Stan Ross is safe at first...

- Coach, get me that ball.

...with hit number 3,000.

That's the ball that got me

into the Hall of Fame.

- You want this ball, Ross?

- Yeah. Thanks, man.

There goes your damn ball.

You see that, Coach?

You see what he just did? He threw

my Hall of Fame ball up in the stands.

- What's your problem?

- Back up. Back up.

Move, man.

You be out here when I get back,

or someone will have to pull a piece of

baseball history out the crack of your ass.

- What you looking at, big fella?

- Make a move.

Yeah, OK, I'll shrink your big ass.

You'll get some, too.

You saw what he did, Coach.

All right, guys.

That ain't gonna mean nothing, boy.

Who got my ball? Open that gate.

All right. He's coming on up.

Congratulations, Stan.

Give me my ball.

- What?

- What'd he say?

Give me my 3,000-hit ball.

Don't look at your daddy, damn it.

Give me my ball.

Make him a trade at least.

Give him a cap or an autographed bat.

- I'm not trading anything.

- What the...

Are you all right, pal?

Why don't you take his cotton candy

while you're at it?

So, Stan, were you glad to get

number 3,000 right here in Milwaukee?

Sure. You ask any

of the all-time greats, man.

We all got a special connection

with our hometown fans.

What connection did you make

with that kid who caught the ball tonight?

Now, what you talkin' about?

People sitting in that section

say you threatened him.

I gave him good advice.

What the hell wrong with you people?

I just became a legend like Willie Mays,

Stan Musial and Carl Yastrzemski.

Y'all gonna try to speak

on something negative?

That's exactly what I'm talkin' about.

That's why I'm quittin'.

- What?

- Wait. What do you mean, quitting?

Quittin'. I'm done.

Hangin' it up.

Now that I got this,

I ain't playin' no more.

And that means no more talking

to you stank-ass reporters.

- Excuse me?

- Yeah, that's right.

I'm talking to you and I'm talking to you.

And I said "stank-ass".

Why now with the Brewers

still in the race?

Couldn't you wait until after the season?

I'd have quit last season if I didn't think

you all were gonna try to block me

from the Hall of Fame.

But it don't matter,

cos I got mine - 3,000.

Like it or not, I'm a certified immortal.

And there ain't nothin' in the world

you sons of b*tches can do about it.

Nothin'.

Attention, all Milwaukee leprechauns.

All you Milwaukee leprechauns,

this is Saint Paddy's Day.

Get your shamrock groove on

at Stan Ross' Mr 3000 Sports Bar,

located on Peacock Street

in Waukesha County.

We got 3,000 different kind of beers.

We got Wild Irish Rose

and anything that you might want.

But wait. There's more.

You want to get that heavy vibration

from that special someone?

Get your page on at 3000 Beeps.

Get your hair dyed, fried

and laid to the side at 3000 Cuts.

Knickknack patty-whack,

get your dog a bone.

And get your woof on at 3000 Paws.

Get your Szechwan feast

on at 3000 Woks.

Bring the whole family down

to Mr 3000 Shopping Centre.

Mr 3000 Shopping Centre,

located at 3000 Peacock Street...

First year, I was 150 votes short.

Come here.

Second year,

I was less than 50 and so on.

Last year, I was just four votes away.

Sportswriters hate me.

But my numbers don't lie.

I got 3,000 up there,

one for each one of my hits.

They gotta let me in.

It's my year, and everybody knows it.

- What about him?

- Who's that?

You know who that is.

That's T-Rex Pennebaker.

- Best player on the Brewers.

- T-Rex Pennebaker ain't nothin'.

I don't even know why

you bothered learning his name.

Especially with what you got

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