It Happens Every Spring Page #6

Look, all I want to do is to show you.

What can you lose?

My lunch is all.

Where is that cop?

Mac, take this guy away.

Yes, sir.

Don't hurt his arm. He thinks he's Walter Johnson.

You know you're very stupid, Mr. Dolan.

With the chance to win the pennant right in your lap.

Get him outta here!

Come on now, pal. You're annoying Mr. Dolan.

You know if you would shout less and think more-

What's all the rumpus, Jimmy?

I got another crank in here, thinks he's a pitcher.

Thinks he can win thirty games.

You, I take it, are Mr. Stone?

Well, I appeal to your intelligence as an executive.

I'm perfectly rational and willing to

prove the truth of anything I may say.

All I want is a chance to demonstrate.

Mac.

-Come on.

-How do these characters get in here?

I walked in, Mr. Stone.

But I'm about to walk out again

without a police escort.

And when I do, the pennant

walks right out the door with me.

Come on, Sonny.

Jim, take your pennant and trot along.

Take a good look at me Mr. Stone.

All the other owners can't be pigheads.

You'll see me later in the season.

Just a minute, young man.

So I'm a pighead, am I?

You walk in off the street

and think you can win thirty games.

I don't think so, Mr. Stone. I know it.

Know it?

I have never met such bland conceit.

I told you. He's a crackpot.

No he's not. He's just a conceited jackass.

Alright, you talk to him. I'm going to batting practice.

Batting practice, eh?

I think we oughta teach this

whipper-snapper here a lesson.

Then take him in your office

and teach him anything you like,

but let me go.

No, not in my office. Down on the field.

Let him pitch to the boys.

OK. It's your ball club.

If you wanna run a kindergarten for crackpots.

Now, young man, you're going to have your wish.

And you're going to get the humiliation

of your arrogant young life.

And I'm coming down to see it.

I was hoping you would.

Come on, nuisance.

Get him a uniform, Jimmy.

Yes, Mr. Stone.

And we'll lay a red plush carpet for him

from the dugout to the pitcher's box.

Oh, just a moment.

There's the question of terms.

-Terms?

-Yes.

Mister, I gotta hand it to you.

Thank you.

Now I want $1,000 a game for every game I win.

Otherwise, not a cent.

And when I win a game, I'm to be paid promptly.

Now I have heard everything.

Of course I realize there's

some rule about minimum salary,

but I'm sure we can fix that up in the contract.

Take him down there right away.

And don't let him pitch to any weak hitters.

Put the top of the batting order up.

I'm really going to enjoy this.

Hurry up, busher.

[Indistinct chatter]

Monk.

What is he, Monk, another Dizzy Dane?

He ain't got a prayer, Jimmy.

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