The Catcher Was a Spy

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[instrumental music]

[music continues]

[car door closes]

There he is.

Is this your first job?

- My first job?

- Hm.

I've never killed a man

if that's what you mean.

It's not as hard

as you might think.

- Depends on the man.

- Which man?

The target, or the man

doing the killing?

[scoffs]

Both.

[gun c*cks]

Tell me, friend, what did you

do before the war?

I was a baseball player.

[scoffs]

You know baseball?

Oh, baseball.

Like Joe DiMaggio.

Did he ever kill anyone?

Not that I know of.

[instrumental music]

Good luck, my friend.

You'll be fine.

Just do it before

the Gestapo figures it out.

I'll try.

[music continues]

[speaking in foreign language]

[music continues]

[crowd cheering]

Two out top of the third,

man on first.

Moe Berg still in the catcher.

Fifteen years in the league

and still standing.

How long can this guy go on?

Runner takes his lead.

Moe calls the sign.

Okay, now here's the pitch.

The runner goes.

Berg throws down to second.

[crowd cheering]

Got him.

[crowd cheering]

Hey, don't shake me off.

I don't wanna a change-up

when somebody's stealing.

I barely got him.

How'd you know

where he was goin'?

I just knew.

[indistinct chatter]

How you holding up?

What do you mean?

Sooner or later

I'm gonna need your spot

on the roster, Moe.

- Make it later.

- It is later.

I've been asking

for two seasons

to hang up the cleats

and coach.

I like it out there.

You hardly play.

All the more reason

to hang on.

Look, I didn't want to

stop playin' either.

So, what do you say?

Finish out the season,

then coach?

I could go to Detroit.

Mickey'd let me play.

Mickey's an idiot.

So are you,

for letting me play.

You get a call

about the Japan thing?

Yeah.

- You goin'?

- Absolutely.

- Who else is going?

- Uh, we got Murderers' Row.

We got Ruth, Gehrig, Averill,

Gehringer, Gomez.

Am I the only bum?

They like

the Professor Berg thing.

They also like

that you speak Japanese.

Who said I speak Japanese?

Kieran, in one of his columns.

[exhales]

- Interesting.

- Say..

Barker House? Steaks?

No, thanks.

Okay, mystery man.

[shower running]

What you staring at, rookie?

What's the story with Berg?

- What do you mean?

- Uh, he seems strange.

What the hell

are you talking about?

I don't know.

He just seems odd.

Mind you own business, Dalton.

Does he, does he bat lefty?

How the hell should I know?

Why should I care?

It's just I don't feel like

showing my dick to a queer.

Well, don't show it

to him, then.

Somebody ought to find out.

[instrumental music]

You're Moe Berg, aren't you?

Who?

Moe Berg,

the baseball player.

Oh, no. You know,

but I must look like him.

Everybody says

I look like him.

You're kidding.

No, I ain't him.

But I sure as hell

must look like him.

Ha!

Where am I dropping you?

A couple more blocks.

I'll walk from there.

It's fine.

Suit yourself..

...Mr. Berg.

Actually, you know what, stop.

Here. That's good.

[instrumental music]

I wouldn't have

been able to tell.

[chuckles]

Really?

Well, I was on my third

martini by that point, so...

You flatter me.

[laughing]

So, what did you think

of the place, honey?

[music continues]

[glass shatters]

[music continues]

[groaning]

Mr. Dalton,

you live around here?

Man, f*** you!

I didn't catch your answer.

Do you live around here?

[Dalton whimpering]

- Do you live around here?

- No! No.

Do you know what the word

"Hypothetical" means?

No? It means, let's suppose.

Let's suppose there was

a baseball player

a rookie, who intruded on the

privacy of another ballplayer

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