"MAJOR LEAGUE" Screenplay by David S. Ward SHOOTING DRAFT FADE IN: TITLES APPEAR ON BLACK B.G. TITLES END and we WIDEN to reveal that the black b.g. is actually the sludge-clogged surface of the Cuyahoga River. We TILT UP from the river to reveal the city of Cleveland, then follow with a series of shots of Cleveland landmarks. INT. THE INJUN DINER - DAY Three men in Cleveland Indian baseball caps sit at the counter. BOBBY JAMES, 22-year-old grad student, VIC BOLITO, 30-year-old telephone worker, and JOHNNY WYNN, 45-year-old house painter. THELMA GORDON, 65-year-old waitress, delivers their breakfast. THELMA Spring training starts the twelfth. How do you think the Indians will do this year? VIC They don't look too good. The other two shake their heads in contemplation of this sorry fact. INT. MEN'S CLUB - DAY A 45-year-old BUSINESS EXECUTIVE is talking to a fellow club member over lunch. BUSINESS EXECUTIVE They don't look particularly good, do they? EXT. CLEVELAND DOCKS - DAY Two LONGSHOREMEN are talking while they unload a freighter. LONGSHOREMEN I'll tell ya. They don't look very fuckin' good. EXT. CLEVELAND MUNICIPAL STADIUM - DAY Down on the field, two KOREAN GROUNDSKEEPERS speak Korean as they resod the outfield. GROUNDSKEEPER (in subtitles) They're shitty. We TILT UP from the field to a glass-enclosed area on the third deck. INT. GLASS-ENCLOSED AREA - DAY It's the Cleveland Indians' conference room. Three men are seated around the table; CHARLIE DONOVAN. the manager, PHIL BUTLER, public relations head, JERRY SIMMONS, operations director and LYLE MATTHEWS director of player personnel Donovan taps his pencil impatiently, obviously waiting for somebody. DONOVAN (checking his watch) Thirty minutes late. Think she'll show? MATTHEWS She's got to. She's the damn owner now. DONOVAN She didn't last week. She was having a guava facial. As Butler tries to figure out what a guava facial is, the conference room doors swing open and a muscular MALE SECRETARY- BODYGUARD enters, clearing the way for MRS. RACHEL PHELPS, a flashy, striking woman in her early forties. Despite the designer clothes she favors, there is the hint of something less refined about her. She carries a Pekinese dog, CHA-CHA on her left hip. RACHEL Good morning, gentlemen. Welcome to another season of Indians' baseball. The men applaud, but their hearts are barely in it. The Secretary-Bodyguard pulls out a chair at the head of the table and Rachel sits. RACHEL I know that it may not seem the same without Donald here this year, but I promise you by the end of the season this team will have made history. Several eyes roll up around the room. RACHEL (picking up a newspaper) Unfortunately there are some in the press who feel that... (reading from the page) "the ex-showgirl wife of Donald Phelps has no business being the owner of a major league baseball team." Rachel crumbles the paper and throws it away. RACHEL Obviously, Donald didn't feel that way or he wouldn't have left the team to me. And I was more than showgirl. I was a dancer. Now, I know some of you have doubts about my ability to run this franchise. God help you if I ever find out about it. This causes a few nervous glances in the room. RACHEL Spring training begins in two weeks. (throwing a sheet of paper on the table) Here's the list of people we'll be inviting to camp this year. Donovan, Butler and Simmons pour over the list. RACHEL I could sit here and tell you what a great year we're gonna have, but the facts are we lost the two best players we had to free agency. We haven't won a pennant in 30 years. We haven't even finished in the first division for 15. Obviously it's time to make some changes. What do ya think? SIMMONS I never heard of half these guys. And the ones I do know are way past their prime. DONOVAN Most of these guys never had a prime. BUTLER (pointing to the sheet) This guy here is dead. RACHEL Cross him off then. BUTLER (under his breath) Let's not be hasty. RACHEL It's time to shake things up, Charlie. Clear the board and start over. DONOVAN Well, it's not the best material I've ever had to work with, but I'll do my best to see we move up a notch this year. RACHEL I know you will, Charlie. That's why I'm movin' you up to General Manager. Congratulations. Rachel sticks out her hand. Donovan shakes it somewhat feebly, bewildered by this whole development. RACHEL Well, that should do it for today. Thank you, gentlemen. Let's get to work. With that, Rachel gets up and breezes out of the room with her entourage, leaving Donovan and the others dumbfounded. MATTHEWS (checking his watch) One minute, 58 seconds. INT. DONOVAN'S NEW OFFICE - DAY Donovan, carrying a boxful of belongings under each arm, pushes open the door of his new office and walks inside. The basic outfitting is masculine enough, but the room is full of feminine little accents; flowers in vases, porcelain desk accessories etc. Donovan is slightly overwhelmed. Suddenly, there's a voice at the door. BODY-BUILDER ASSISTANT Mr. Donovan, Mrs. Phelps would like to see you. OMIT Sequence omitted from original script. INT. RACHEL'S OFFICE - DAY Donovan is ushered in by Rachel's Male Secretary. Donovan carries his player roster with him. INT. RACHEL'S OFFICE - DAY CONT RACHEL Come on in, Charlie. Have a seat. DONOVAN I'm glad you called me in. I'm still unclear on a couple things RACHEL Oh, really? Like what? DONOVAN Well, if I'm the G.M., who's gonna be the Manager? RACHEL I was thinking of Lou Brown. DONOVAN Lou Brown? RACHEL He's managed the Toledo Mud Hens of the International League for the last 30 years. This is hardly an impressive credential to Donovan. RACHEL I think he'll fit right in with our team concept. DONOVAN What exactly is our team concept? RACHEL That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I want to put together a team that will help us relocate to Miami. DONOVAN What do you mean? (referring to the roster) Some of these guys are furniture movers? RACHEL I'm serious about this, Charlie. It's no secret I've never liked Cleveland much. The weather's lousy, downtown is a pit, the stadium's falling apart, and we can't draw dick. Another couple of years of this and I'm gonna have to start feeding Cha-Cha dog food. Rachel bends down to give her dog, Cha-Cha, a little love pat, while Donovan tries to contain his disgust. DONOVAN Mrs. Phelps, you can't just up and move a team on a whim... RACHEL It's hardly a whim. Miami's offered to build us a new stadium -- 62,000 capacity, 45 V.I.P. boxes, and no rent for the first million at the gate. Plus a 12 million dollar media guarantee; 45 percent of the concession gross, all of the parking and they pick up the stadium operations costs. No other franchise in baseball can match that deal. DONOVAN Even so, the League'll never let us leave Cleveland. We got a lease with the city. RACHEL The lease says we have the right to move if our attendance falls below 800,000 for the year. (pushing across a copy of the lease) Paragraph 40, line 17. Donovan looks at it, the paragraph highlighted in yellow. RACHEL If we play bad enough, we should be able to come in under that. DONOVAN What are you saying? You want us to lose? RACHEL No, we've been losing. What I want us to do is finish dead last. Donovan is stunned. He casts around helplessly for some response. DONOVAN Mister Phelps would never have approved of this. RACHEL He knew it had to be done. He just didn't have the courage to do it. (with veiled menace) Hopefully, you will come to see the wisdom of it. (pause) If this team lives up to its potential, we could have the worst record in all baseball. On Donovan's sunken face, we go to: EXT. SHABBY MEXICAN HOTEL - MORNING On a stretch of deserted Mexican highway. OVER we hear a telephone RING. INT. MOTEL ROOM - MORNING The room is a total mess. The back door is off its hinges and a few chickens have wandered in. As they peck around the debris, we PAN the room, taking in beer cans, food wrappers and finally a trail of hastily discarded clothes, both male and female. We reach the bed and find our hero, JAKE TAYLOR, 35, and with a couple days growth of stubble, passed out on his face. Sprawled across him asleep is a MEXICAN WOMAN in her late twenties. She's not great looking, but at least she's overweight. Taylor's hand fumbles to the RINGING telephone. TAYLOR Yeh. It's Charlie Donovan calling from his office in Cleveland. We CUT BACK AND FORTH between the two as we will in subsequent phone scenes. DONOVAN Hello, Jake? This is Charlie Donovan, new G.M. of the Cleveland Indians. TAYLOR (skeptical) Yeh... DONOVAN I wanted to call and say the organization remembers you fondly from the years you played here and we'd love to have you come to spring training for a shot at this year's club. TAYLOR Who is this? DONOVAN What? TAYLOR Is that you, Tolbert? This isn't very funny, ya know. I'm hung over. My knees are killin' me. If you were gonna pull this shit, you could've at least said you were from the Yankees. Taylor struggles to get a look up at the girl on top of him. TAYLOR (still to Donovan) By the way, you were with me last night. Who's this girl on top of me? Donovan is baffled by this whole line of conversation. TAYLOR Tolbert? Tolbert? Screw it. Taylor hangs up, leaving Donovan staring into his phone. Taylor looks up to see TOLBERT standing in the doorway. TAYLOR Tolbert. TOLBERT Who the hell were you talkin' to? On Taylor's reaction, we... CUT TO: INT. TOLEDO TIRE STORE - DAY We PICK UP LOU BROWN, a portly man in his early fifties, making his way to his glass-partitioned office. SECRETARY Lines three and four are waiting for you, Mr. Brown. One guy about the TR- 70's. BROWN (picking up the phone) Tire World. DONOVAN Lou? This is Charlie Donovan, the new G.M. of the Cleveland Indians. Listen, Lou, I hope you're sittin' down 'cause I got an offer you probably been dreamin' about your whole life. We been watchin' your progress down there at Toledo with a lotta interest and well... (a dramatic pause) How would you like to manage the Indians this year? For a moment there's silence on the line, then: BROWN I don't know... DONOVAN (incredulous) What do ya mean you don't know? This is a chance to manage in the big leagues. BROWN Lemme think it over, will ya, Charlie. I got a guy on the other line about some whitewalls. I'll talk to ya later. Brown clicks off. Donovan puts his head down on his desk. INT. CHARLIE DONOVAN'S OFFICE - DAY Donovan's on the phone to another player. DONOVAN Rick, we heard about your pitching out at Portland last year... RICKY VAUGHN Good-looking, muscular, 19-year-old. Sleeveless black T-shirt. Talking on a wall phone in a nondescript room. VAUGHN I'm, ah, not with them anymore... Vaughn has been working, sweating slightly. He takes off his cap to mop his brow -- revealing a RADICAL HAIRCUT with PIGTAIL. He sports a RING in his left ear. DONOVAN We'd still like to take a look at ya at our spring camp in Arizona, March first. LONG SHOT - VAUGHN In the b.g., Vaughn is on the phone. In the f.g., we see security bars. Vaughn's in a Youth Authority prison. VAUGHN Yeh, well, I'm not sure I can make it by then. DONOVAN Don't worry, we're gettin' you out on a sort of work furlough deal. Any questions? VAUGHN Yeh. Where's Cleveland? INT. DONOVAN'S OFFICE - DAY On the speaker again to Lou Brown. Rachel watches, impatient for him to close the deal. DONOVAN Look, Lou, you been in baseball thirty years. Don't you wanna advance some? BROWN (eating a sack lunch) I used to coach the unwed mothers' softball team. I have advanced some. Rachel rubs her fingers together, making the money sign to Donovan. DONOVAN Well, what are you really worried about? The money? BROWN Naw, I'm just not sure I'd be happy in a big organization like that. Owners are always on your back, tryin' to "help you out." DONOVAN I don't think that's gonna be a problem. BROWN Down here baseball's a game, not a business. I don't wanta be a babysitter for a buncha millionaires who think they know it all already. DONOVAN We don't have any millionaires. BROWN Well then, bonus babies or whatever you got... DONOVAN Don't have any bonus babies either. BROWN Don't you have any proven major league talent? DONOVAN (embarrassed) Not that I know of. BROWN Well, then... I'll be up in a couple days. DONOVAN What? BROWN Sounds like my kinda team. Have my contracts ready. Brown hangs up. DONOVAN (to the others) Guess I really put the screws to him. EXT. MEXICAN LEAGUE BALL PARK - DAY This one's a dandy. The left field wall is a 20-foot high, solid granite outcropping. A final out is made and the teams change over. TAYLOR returning to the dugout at the end of the inning, wondering what the hell he's doin' here. MANAGER Taylor, telephone for you. Taylor goes to the phone in the clubhouse tunnel. TAYLOR Hello. DONOVAN Jake, Charlie Donovan again. TAYLOR Oh yeh, Charlie, look, I'm sorry about this morning... DONOVAN No problem. Look, Jake, camp starts on the first. Can you make it? TAYLOR Sure. DONOVAN You been stayin' in shape down there? TAYLOR Oh hell, yeh, I work out every day. DONOVAN I thought so. See ya in Arizona. Donovan hangs up. Taylor shoots a fist in the air, and we... CUT TO: TAYLOR approaching his MANAGER. MANAGER Let's go, Taylor. You're up. TAYLOR Luis, I'm not gonna be playin' anymore. I got a tryout in the States. MANAGER Fine. Leave your uniform. TAYLOR But I changed at the motel. MANAGER Leave your uniform. TAYLOR coming out of the stadium, his bats and gloves over his shoulder. He has on his spikes and a pair of boxer shorts. INT. BEAT-UP MEXICAN BUS - DAY Taylor sits in the back seat. He has six Coke bottles filled with sand strapped to his ankles. He lifts his legs up and down to strengthen his muscles. OMIT Sequence omitted from original script. EXT. INDIANS' TRAINING CAMP PRACTICE FIELD - DAY Donovan, Brown and two of his coaches, PEPPER LEACH (pitching) and DUKE TEMPLE (hitting) are on the field, witnessing the arrival of their "troops." First to arrive is: TAYLOR He gets out of a taxi and goes to the trunk to get his bats and luggage. DONOVAN This looks like Jake Taylor. Brown turns around from a conversation with Temple. BROWN He was an Allstar in Boston, wasn't he? DONOVAN Yeh. PEPPER Wish we had him two years ago. DONOVAN We did. PEPPER Four years ago then. INT. PLAYER'S BARRACKS - DAY Like an Army barracks. Rows of bunk beds seperated by lockers. Taylor walks in with Temple, the hitting instructor. TAYLOR What happened to the private rooms? TEMPLE We're on an austerity program. This is what happens when you finish 24 games out. BROWN, PEPPER, TEMPLE AND DONOVAN back at the field, supervising the arrival of more players. The first is a tall, muscular Latin, PEDRO CERRANO, dressed in black from head to toe. He arrives on foot, carrying a black suitcase and pulling a black bat case on wheels. He looks like a gunfighter coming into Dodge. BROWN Who's that? DONOVAN I think it's Cerrano. Defected from Cuba. Wanted religious freedom. BROWN What's his religion? DONOVAN Voodoo. BLACK AND TAN ROLLS-ROYCE pulling into the parking lot. Out steps RODGER DORN, high- priced third baseman. Brown eyes him with vague disapproval. BROWN Thought you didn't have any high- priced talent. DONOVAN (sheepish) I forgot about Dorn, 'cause he's only high-priced. Got him as a free agent three years ago. BROWN Still hits the ball pretty well, doesn't he? DONOVAN Yeh, he just can't field it. Dorn pulls his golf clubs out of the car. BROWN We'll shape him up. WILLIE HAYES a 22-year-old black, pulling up in a '72 VW Beetle which he's got a Cadillac grille on. He steps out in his shades and sharkskin suit. DONOVAN Don't recognize this guy. Hayes strolls up and introduces himself. HAYES Say hey, Willie Mays Hayes here. I play like Mays and run like Hayes. BROWN Lou Brown. Nice to meet ya, Hayes. HAYES Thanks. Well, I gotta get my stuff... Hayes hustles off toward his car. DONOVAN I don't remember a Hayes on the list. A motorcycle pulls to a stop in the lot, diverting everyone's attention from Hayes. Off steps Ricky Vaughn, a hefty bag over his shoulder. He's still sporting his radical do. PEPPER Look at this fuckin' guy. TEMPLE Maybe he's the mascot. Donovan is speechless. Brown breaks into a small smile. Yes, sir, this is his kinda team. INT. PLAYERS' BARRACKS Taylor is putting his stuff away in a locker. Vaughn enters the barracks and immediately draws the attention of Dorn. DORN Hey, what do we have here? Guy looks like a fuckin' toilet brush. Hey, T.B., I love your pony tail. And the earring's cute too. Where's the matching bracelet? Vaughn whips a hard glance at Dorn, but keeps on walking, making his way along the bunks looking for his assigned bed. It's the one above Taylor. Vaughn unloads his duffel bag in silence. TAYLOR (offering his hand) Jake Taylor. Vaughn shakes it and nods. Says nothing. TAYLOR So, you just gonna settle for toilet brush, or you got another name? VAUGHN Vaughn. Rick Vaughn. TAYLOR Forget about Dorn. He's always a little tough on rookies. You'll get a lot worse from other teams. The conversation is interrupted by the arrival of Hayes. HAYES Say hey! How ya doin'? Willie Mays Hayes here. TAYLOR Jake Taylor. (pointing to Vaughn) Rick Vaughn. Hayes doesn't quite know what to make of Vaughn. HAYES What the hell league you been playin' in? VAUGHN California Penal. HAYES Never heard of it. How'd you wind up playin' there? VAUGHN I stole a car. On Hayes' look, we... CUT TO: INT. THE BARRACKS - NIGHT It's dark. Everyone's asleep. Three SECURITY GUARDS with flashlights come down to the top bunk where Hayes is sleeping. GUARD This guy wasn't invited to camp. They lift the bunk out of its slots and carry it out the door, Hayes still asleep on it. INT. LOCKER ROOM - MORNING The players are dressing out in their uniforms for the first day of practice. Vaughn goes in his locker and finds that a slit has been cut in the back of his cap to accommodate his pigtail. Suppressed laughs are heard from several corners of the locker room. INT. CLUBHOUSE - MORNING Brown is addressing his troops before the first workout. BROWN Welcome to Spring Training, gentlemen. Most managers tell you at this time that all the jobs are open, that nobody's a lock at any position, and that talent isn't everything. They'd rather see desire and discipline in a player. Then they tell you that most of all they want you to have fun out there, even though they're gonna work your ass off on fundamentals and condition you till you drop. The difference between me and those other managers is... (pause) I mean it. On a locker room full of uneasy faces, we... CUT TO: EXT. PRACTICE FIELD PARKING LOT - MORNING Hayes' cot is sitting in the lot, just outside the fence, his suitcase set down next to it. Hayes is still asleep, dew on his forehead. Wakened by the noise of activity on the field, he sits up with a start. HAYES Shit, I been cut already? THE PRACTICE FIELD We pick up Taylor sprinting his ass off in a 100-yard time trial, staggering across the finish line 10 feet behind Cerrano. PEPPER (checking stopwatch) 11.9 Taylor. Not bad if you'd fallen down. As Taylor tries to catch his breath, Dorn and a relief pitcher named Gant approach the starting line for the next trial. HAYES looking through the chain-link fence surrounding the field. DORN AND GENTRY AGAIN Temple brings them to their marks and blows his whistle. Dorn and Gentry take off. Suddenly Hayes, in his pajamas and bare feet comes streaking toward the starting line in hot pursuit. Dorn and Gentry a good 10-yard lead, but Hayes is coming like a bullet. We go to SLOW MOTION as Hayes draws even at the 80-yard mark and blasts on by to win by five. This kid is fast. Brown and Pepper give each other the "Who was that Masked Man" look. BROWN Get him a uniform. EXT. THE PRACTICE FIELD - LONG SHOT - DAY The players are spread out on the field doing calisthenics, counting off in unison. TAYLOR struggling through a series of pushups. He glances over in disbelief at Vaughn and Cerrano, who are doing them like pistons in competition with each other. Cerrano even starts doing them one-handed. Hayes isn't doing them at all; merely pulling his head up and down while leaving his body on the ground. HARRIS C'mon, Hayes, let's do 'em right. HAYES Hey, my philosophy is no pain, no pain. EXT. THE BATTING CAGE - DAY Taylor is crouched behind the plate, warming up his arm. Catching pitches and throwing them half-speed down to second. Brown drifts over. BROWN How the knees holdin' up, Jake? TAYLOR Great. Never been better. BROWN Mobility's good? No problem gettin' off the throw to second? TAYLOR No problem. BROWN I need a catcher, Jake. Somebody who can keep this team together on the field. You were a helluva player when you were sound, but around the league they think you can't take the pounding anymore. TAYLOR Around the league they're wrong. BROWN I'm gonna have to put you to the test, ya know. So, I want the absolute truth here. Are you 100 percent? TAYLOR Yeh. Would I bullshit about somethin' like that? BROWN (walking away) You better if you wanna make this team. Taylor smiles and fires one full-speed down to second. It bounces two feet in front of the bag. EXT. BATTING CAGE - DAY Brown is watching batting practice. Hayes steps into the cage and begins a preparatory ritual worthy of Babe Ruth -- rubbing dirt on his hands, stretching, knocking dirt off his spikes, twirling the bat, etc. A real slugger's routine. BROWN C'mon, Hayes, this isn't the All Star Game. Get up to the damn plate. Hayes gets in and takes his stance. On the first pitch, he takes a mighty cut and hits a pop-fly to the pitcher's mound. We take QUICK CUTS of the next three pitches. Hayes takes prodigious swings at all of them, producing three more pop- ups, none out of the infield. Brown calls a halt. BROWN Well, you may run like Mays, but you hit like shit. HAYES My stroke'll come back once I get warmed up. TEMPLE (referring to some stats) Never did get warmed up last year. Hit .211 at Maine. I looked him up. BROWN I think Mr. Hayes shows some promise. His speed could be a big asset. PEPPER (aside) For what? Running back to the dugout? BROWN You gotta stop swingin' for the fences though, Hayes. All you're gonna do is give yourself a hernia. With your speed you should be hittin' the ball on the ground, leggin' 'em out. Every time I see you hit one in the air, you owe me twenty pushups. HAYES Hey, no problem. The next pitch comes in. Hayes swings and pops it up. HAYES Shit. As he gets down to do his twenty, Brown turns to Temple. BROWN Sometimes you can teach a guy to hit. You can't teach him to run. BROWN AND PEPPER coming over to where Vaughn is tossing some casual warm-up pitches to Jake. BROWN All right, Vaughn, they tell us you're a pitcher. Let's see what you got. Brown and Pepper stand behind Taylor for a better view. Vaughn goes into his wind-up and fires a screaming fast ball that Taylor has no chance to get out of his crouch to catch. The ball rockets an inch over Brown's head, and slams into the backstop. Brown stands frozen a second, contemplating his brush with eternity, then turns to Pepper. BROWN Nice velocity. PEPPER Sounded like it. TAYLOR Sorry, Lou, I wasn't quite expectin' that much octane. Brown turns to the Clubhouse Man who's holding a speed gun. BROWN How much? CLUBHOUSE MAN 96 miles an hour. BROWN (to Pepper) Better teach him some control before he kills somebody. RODGER DORN fielding grounders at third base. He plays them off to his left side a bit, almost as if he's afraid to get bit by them. BROWN C'mon, Dorn, get in front of the damn ball. (making like a bullfighter) Don't give me this ole' bullshit. DORN I took one of these in the eye last year. Nearly lost my sight. BROWN I'm deeply moved. Every time you play it off your hip, you give me forty sit-ups. DORN What! That's Little League shit. BROWN So is this. Brown strikes an effeminate fielding position, like Betty Grable shying from a mouse. Dorn burns. PEDRO CERRANO in the batting cage, knocking the cover off pitch after pitch with his black bat. BROWN Jesus, this guy hits a ton. How come nobody else picked up on him? TEMPLE (to the batting practice pitcher) Okay, Harris, that's enough fast balls. Throw some curves. Harris winds and throws a fair-to-middlin' curve ball. Cerrano swings and misses it a foot. BROWN Oh. Dorn approaches Brown at the cage. DORN Lou, I wanna have a word with you here. BROWN Sure. DORN (whipping out his contract) Those penalty sit-ups you want me to do? I got it right here in my contract that I don't have to do any calisthenics I don't feel are necessary. What do ya think of that? Everyone around the batting cage has stopped what they're doing to see how Brown will react. Brown looks at the contract a second, then drops it on the ground, unzips his fly, and gives it a golden shower. On Dorn's stunned face, we... CUT TO: DORN doing sit-ups in the infield. Vaughn walks by and smiles. LONGSHOT - PRACTICE FIELD Practically every member of the team is doing penalty calisthenics somewhere on the field. PEPPER (to Temple) We got anybody left playin' baseball out there? INT. THE LOCKER ROOM - AFTERNOON Taylor, Hayes and Vaughn drag in, looking beat from the day's workout. TAYLOR Shit, the way I played today, I wouldn't be surprised if they red- tagged me already. HAYES What do ya mean? TAYLOR Red tag in your locker means the manager wants to see you, 'cause you just died and went to the minors. Vaughn's hand freezes on his locker latch, afraid to open it now. TAYLOR Don't worry, they don't cut anybody the first day. Vaughn is still not so sure. He sits down on his locker stool and glances over toward STEVE HARRIS a starting pitcher, whose locker is adjacent. As Harris takes off his jersey we see three SPLOTCHES OF GREASY SUBSTANCES on his chest, just inside the button line. VAUGHN What is that stuff? HARRIS (pointing to them in order) Crisco, Bardahl, Vagisil. Any one of 'em will give you another 2-3 inches drop on your curve ball. Vaughn can't believe this. HARRIS Course if it's cold and I got a shirt on under my jersey, I just rub a little jalapeno inside my nose and get it runnin'. I need to load up the ball a little, I just wipe my nose. VAUGHN (revolted) You put snot on the ball? HARRIS At my age, you put anything you can find on it. I haven't got an arm like yours. Vaughn just looks at him incredulous. TAYLOR AND CARRANO Taylor is undressing, but his attention is diverted by Cerrano whose stall is right next to him. Cerrano has set up an altar in his locker. In front of his bats, which are lined up like sentinels, is a table covered with pictures of baseball players, figurines of saints, several lit candles and, in the middle, a primitive fetish doll with a cigar in its mouth. Cerrano has drawn some magic signs on his bats. He finishes an incantation and then lights the cigar on the fetish doll. TAYLOR What are you doin' there, Pedro? CERRANO Bats. They are sick. TAYLOR So are mine. Is somethin' goin' around? CERRANO No hit curve ball. Straight ball, hit it very much. Curve ball, bats are afraid. I ask Jo-Buu to come. Take fear from bats. HAYES Jo-Buu? TAYLOR Maybe he's the pagan saint of baseball. CERRANO I offer him cigars and gin. He will come. Cerrano pours some gin in a small cup and puts it next to the fetish doll. Harris has been listening to all this. Cerrano grabs a towel to head for the showers. HARRIS I wouldn't leave this gin sittin' around out here with this group. CERRANO (with a certain gravity) Is very bad to steal Jo-Buu's gin. Is very bad. Cerrano closes his locker and goes off to the showers, leaving everyone to wonder just how bad. OMIT Sequence omitted from original script. MONTAGE SEQUENCE compressing and detailing the progress of spring training. We see: A) Vaughn on the pitcher's mound. A tin replica of a batter has been set up at home plate and rope stretched across the plate to delineate the strike zone. Vaughn fires a pitch and hits the tin batter in the hip, leaving a dent in him. B) Cerrano in the batting cage, flailing away in futility at several curve balls. C) HAYES doing push-ups at night. He's the only one left on the field, except Temple, who supervises. D) TAYLOR doing the "scramble" drill -- blocking down balls purposely thrown in the dirt, one after another. When it ends, he can hardly get to his feet. E) CERRANO waving a ten-foot BOA CONSTRICTOR in the sign of the cross in front of his locker before opening it. No red tag greets him. Hayes watches from a safe distance. F) VAUGHN holding a mirror under the vents on his locker door to get a peek inside to see if there's a red tag there. G) DORN taking a hard ground ball off the chest. Brown applauds. Dorn is pissed. H) VAUGHN throwing at the "ropes" again. The tin batter is dented in every conceivable place now. Vaughn whips in another fast ball. This one hits the tin man in the head, knocking it completely off. I) TAYLOR in an exhibition game, attempting to throw out a base stealer. Jake springs out of his crouch and fires down to second -- on a bounce. The ball skips into center field. J) HAYES also in an exhibition game, swinging at a pitch and popping it up behind the plate. He just drops in his tracks and starts to do push-ups as the catcher makes the catch behind him. K) CERRANO flailing away again at a curve ball. This and the remaining shots are all in exhibition games. L) HAYES waving a ten-inch garter snake in front of his locker. Even at this size we can tell it scares the hell out of him, but it works its magic. No red tag. M) VAUGHN with a runner on third, winding up and throwing a pitch four feet over Taylor's head. The run scores. N) HAYES attempting to steal second. He goes into a hell-bent-for- leather head first slide. Unfortunately, he comes up two feet short of the base. The second baseman, who's waiting for him with the ball, makes a motion for him to keep coming. Hayes flips him the bird. O) LOU BROWN on the bench. He turns to Pepper with a look that says, "Can you believe this shit?" P) TAYLOR waiting for a throw at the plate. Just as he's about to catch it, the runner knocks him flat. Q) BROWN his head in his hands. As Taylor gets up and goes to the wrong dugout, the MONTAGE ENDS. EXT. INDIANS' PRACTICE FIELD - LATE AFTERNOON Players are filing off the team bus after the game. We PICK UP Taylor, Hayes and Vaughn as they head toward the locker room. VAUGHN This is final cut down day, right? TAYLOR Yeh, better get your snake ready, Hayes. HAYES No, I'm goin' cold turkey today. My hands are too screwed up to hold it anyway. Hayes reveals a pair of red and cut hands. TAYLOR If you're gonna use that head first slide, you better get yourself some gloves or you're not gonna have any skin left on your hands. They've reached the locker room now. VAUGHN I don't wanna go in there. TAYLOR Whatever happens, keep it to yourself until you're outta the locker room. Don't celebrate in front of guys who just died. HAYES What if we're one of the deceased? Taylor goes into the locker room. Hayes and Vaughn hang back. Cerrano is already at his locker. He's got two snakes this time and some kind of voodoo head dress on. He sprays a patch of white paint on the locker door from a spray can, draws a symbol door. No tag. He kisses the snake, leaving some white paint on his lips, like a kid who's just had a glass of milk. Taylor, exhausted from the game, lifts his latch and peers inside. He's made it, too. Cerrano offers a hand. Taylor shakes it and breaks a weary smile. GENTRY opens locker, slumps on stool. He's a goner. HAYES AND VAUGHN the two rookies, are still hanging back. HAYES C'mon, Vaughn, let's show some nuts here. If they cut us, we'll just sign with the Yankees. Hayes strides manfully to his locker and pulls it open. This doesn't tell him much, however, because he's got his eyes closed. He stands that way a beat ot two, then opens one eye. Seeing no tag, he turns and walks double-time out of the locker room, as if he had to get to the john. He comes outside, turns a corner, and starts leaping around like a wild man. VAUGHN drawing strength from Hayes, walks resolutely to his locker and whips it open. There hanging from the top hook is the "red death." Vaughn stares at it expressionless, then slowly closes his locker. CUT TO: INT. BROWN'S OFFICE - LATE AFTERNOON Vaughn goes right in without knocking and leans on Brown's desk. VAUGHN I got news for you, Mr. Brown. You haven't heard the last of me. You think I'm shit now, but someday you'll be sorry you cut me. I'm gonna catch on somewhere else, and every time I pitch against you, I'm gonna stick it up your ass. BROWN Good, I like that kinda spirit in a player. The only problem is, I didn't cut you. VAUGHN What do you mean? BROWN I think somebody's been havin' fun with you. We GO TO Vaughn, his faced a mask of anger and embarrassment. THE LOCKER ROOM AGAIN Vaughn charges across the room and jumps Dorn. The men grapple and fight all over the room, until Taylor finally gets them separated. DORN (to Vaughn) What's the matter, little lady? Can't you take a joke? Vaughn gives Dorn a look that indicates this isn't over. Lou Brown enters the room. BROWN Can I have your attention, please? I counted up your ballots for team captain and I think you chose the right guy. If you hadn't, I woulda told you he won anyway. Mr. C for the year -- Jake Taylor. The team breaks into applause and whistles as Taylor's name is announced. Dorn is the only one who seems unhappy about it. As Taylor accepts the congratulations of his teammates, he turns to Vaughn. TAYLOR Forget about Dorn. You got other things to do. VAUGHN Like what? TAYLOR Packing for Cleveland. Taylor gives him a wide smile. Vaughn finally allows himself one. CUT TO: EXT. THE CLEVELAND SKYLINE - DAY Such as it is. We MOVE DOWN to the same diner we saw during the opening of the film. INT. INJUN DINER - DAY The same three guys as before are at the counter. THELMA You see the new lineup the Indians got? BOBBY I never heard of most of 'em. INT. EXECUTIVE LIMOUSINE - DAY The Business Executive is talking to the limo driver as he reads the sports section. BUSINESS EXECUTIVE I don't know the majority of these names. EXT. CLEVELAND DOCKS - DAY The two Longshoremen again, looking at a paper. LONGSHOREMAN Who are these fuckin' guys? EXT. CLEVELAND MUNICIPAL STADIUM - DAY The two Korean Groundskeepers again, dragging the infield. GROUNDSKEEPER (in subtitles) They're shitty. INT. CLEVELAND MUNICIPAL STADIUM - DAY Taylor is alone in the stadium, standing near home plate in his street clothes, taking in the massive stadium, remembering glories past. He steps into the batter's box and takes his stance. TAYLOR (to himself) Two down. Bottom of the ninth. Taylor points to the left field stands. He imagines a pitch coming in, takes a mighty swing and admires the flight of the imaginary ball as it arches high in the mid-day sky, landing deep in the left field seats. Breaking into his home run trot, he circles the bases, slapping the third base coach's hand and exchanging low fives with his teamates as he reaches the plate. Suddenly, his reverie is interrupted by the sound of applause. He turns and looks in the dugout, where Hayes and Vaughn are giving him a hand. HAYES Really got all of that one. VAUGHN What was it? A slider? Taylor is too embarrassed to reply. INT. CLEVELAND RESTAURANT - NIGHT One of Cleveland's finest. Taylor, Hayes and Vaughn are seated at a table. TAYLOR What are you gonna have? HAYES I don't know. What language is this? TAYLOR French. HAYES They got patty melts over there? TAYLOR Forget it. I'll order. Let's have a toast. The three raise their wine glasses. TAYLOR Here's to baseball, here's to the start of two great careers, and for me, here's to at least one more good year in the sun. The glasses CLINK. Suddenly Taylor's attention fixes on something across the room -- a stunning young woman in her late twenties, LYNN WESTLAND. She's having dinner with a DATE in a three-piece suit. Hayes and Vaughn follow Taylor's eyes to the woman. VAUGHN What is it? The chick? TAYLOR That's my wife. HAYES Does she know it? TAYLOR I mean she woulda been if I hadn't screwed it up. Who's that guy she's with? HAYES I don't know. He's not wearing a name tag. VAUGHN You want me to beat the shit out of him? TAYLOR No. HAYES What does she do? TAYLOR She's a librarian. VAUGHN A librarian? Shit, I gotta start readin' again. INT. CLEVELAND RESTAURANT - NIGHT A WAITER approaches the table where Lynn and her date are sharing a dessert. WAITER Miss Wells, there's a telephone call for you. Lynn is somewhat surprised, but gets up to take the call. We FOLLOW her to the pay phone in the hall. LYNN Hello. VOICE Hello, Lynn. It's Jake. LYNN Jake? How did you know I was here? TAYLOR Just a hunch. I took you there when you got your masters. I figure you're probably wearing the black velvet dress with the red sash. She is indeed. Lynn is a little unsettled by this display of clairvoyance. LYNN How did you know that? I didn't have this dress when we were... Sensing that something's askew, she turns and looks across the way to see Jake talking to her on the pay phone on the other side of the hall, maybe ten feet away. He gives her his best grin. TAYLOR You look great. Lynn, as is often the case with Jake, is both charmed and put-out. She goes with put-out. LYNN Thanks. What are you doin' here? Aren't you supposed to be in Mexico somewhere? TAYLOR I'm playin' with the Indians again. Back in the Bigs. LYNN That's great. I'm happy for you, Jake. And she is. Not so sure about herself, though. LYNN (starting away) I gotta get back... TAYLOR Wait a minute. What's your number. I tried calling you at home, but you're not listed... LYNN My life is different from when you knew me. TAYLOR Meaning what? That I don't know you anymore? LYNN Couldn't we talk about this some other time? I really gotta... TAYLOR Okay, just gimme your number. LYNN I don't think that's a good idea. TAYLOR Why not? Because of the guy you're with? What is he, a banker? LYNN Lawyer. Please, Jake, he's watching us. TAYLOR I'm not leavin' without your number. You still wear those great little tortoise-shell glasses? I always loved it when you took them off. LYNN (exasperated) Jake... TAYLOR The number, Lynn... LYNN (reluctant) All right. 555-9314. TAYLOR Thank you. I'm back, Lynn, and I'm gonna be around. She looks at him a beat, unsure what to say, then heads back toward her table. We go to Lynn's date. None of this has been lost on him. INT. TAXI - DAY Taylor, Hayes and Vaughn are the fares. CABBIE What's the number again? TAYLOR (looking at a piece of paper) 1036. HAYES What is this place? TAYLOR Furnished apartment building owned by the Indians. We get special rates. With what we're makin' we'll need it. The Cabbie pulls to a stop and points to the other side of the street. CABBIE That's it. Taylor and the others turn to see a dismal, run-down building with a neon sign that says "The Turk." TAYLOR Welcome to the Big Leagues. INT. THE TURK - DAY Jake goes to a pay phone in the hall and dials the number Lynn gave him. VOICE ON PHONE Hello, Cuyahoga Sheet Metal. Taylor doesn't like the sound of this. TAYLOR You got anybody workin' there named Lynn Wells? VOICE ON PHONE Never heard of her. TAYLOR Didn't think so. Taylor hangs up, staring off into space. INT. THE INDIANS' LOCKER ROOM - DAY Various players are dressing out for the game. We PICK UP Cerrano putting on his undergarments. They're all black, including his jock. Dorn reads the Wall Street Journal, while Taylor sits on the trainer's table getting his knees taped. Hayes checks the fit of his new uniform from every angle in a mirror. He thinks he looks pretty good. Vaughn just squeezes a baseball in his left hand, obviously a little uptight. Taylor gives him a chuck on the shoulder. TAYLOR Take it easy. We got 162 of these to go. Lou Brown enters the locker room. BROWN All right, let's gather 'round. The players turn their attention to Brown. BROWN I'm not much for inspirational addresses. I just wanta point out that every newspaper in the country has picked us to finish last. The local press thinks we'd save everybody a lot of time and trouble if we just went out and shot ourselves. Me, I like to waste sportswriters' time so I'm for hangin' around and seein' if we can give all these guys a nice big shitburger to eat. Cheers all around. HARRIS Aren't we gonna have a prayer? I mean we're not all savages like Cerrano. BROWN You guys go ahead. I belong to the church of three-run homers. HARRIS All right, let's bow our heads. Many of the players follow suit. Suddenly the silence is shattered by a loud explosive SOUND, scaring the hell out of everybody. All eyes turn to Cerrano, who has just set off a charge of gunpowder on his locker altar. CERRANO Have to wake up bats. Disgusted, Harris and the others turn back to their prayers. HARRIS Dear Lord, we ask... Harris never gets to finish. The smoke rising from Cerrano's gunpowder explosion sets off the automatic sprinklers in the ceiling. As Harris and the faithful look up into the downpour, we... CUT TO: EXT. MUNICIPAL STADIUM - DAY The stands are nearly empty. Of the fans who have showed up, many wear doormats around their necks. Bobby, Vic, Johnny and Thelma, our four fans from the diner, sit alone in the vast expanse of the centerfield bleachers. All four wear Indian head dresses and have war paint on their faces. The three men each have tom-toms. Thelma works on her needlepoint. JOHNNY You read the Plain Dealer today? They said this is gonna be the worst Indian team we've had in years. THELMA Everybody laughs at the Indians now, but there were other times. Even won the Series in '48. Then Willie Mays made that catch on Vic Wertz in the '54 Series and Cleveland's never been the same since. JOHNNY As the Indians go so goes Cleveland, huh? THELMA If we ever lost the Indians, Cleveland would die. INT. MUNICIPAL STADIUM PRESS BOX - DAY We get our fist glimpse of HARRY DOYLE, the Indians' 55-year- old radio announcer. Harry's never walked past a bar in anger. He's been with the Indians through thin and thinner. DOYLE (on the air) Hello, everybody, Harry Doyle here, welcoming all you Friends of the Feather to another season of Indians baseball. (pouring some Jack Daniels in his Coke) A lotta new faces for the tribe this year, as they take on the defending American League champs, the New York Yankees. And listen to the roar of the crowd as the Indians takes the field! Doyle leans out the press box window with his mike, trying to pick up the sound of a couple guys CLAPPING down below. DOYLE Yes, sir, they love this club here in Cleveland. Doyle takes a hit of his spiked Coke. DOWN ON THE FIELD A YANKEE HITTER flies out to Hayes, who makes a "basket" catch a la Willie Mays. DOYLE (V.O.) High fly ball, centerfield. Hayes under it now... Oh, makes a basket catch, Willie Mays style, and the side is retired. THE INDIAN DUGOUT The team comes in off the field to much enthusiasm and back- slapping. BROWN All right, way to look, way to look. Nice catch, Hayes. Don't ever fuckin' do it again. Okay, let's get it goin'! DOYLE IN THE PRESS BOX DOYLE Bottom of the first, Willie Mays Hayes to lead it off for the tribe. HAYES going through his warmup routine at the plate. DOYLE (V.O.) A lotta people say you can tell how a season's gonna go by the first hitter of the year. In the last fifteen years, the Indians have never had the season lead-off hitter reach base. Hayes is in the batter's box now. The Yankee pitcher winds and fires. Hayes swings and hits a little dribbler toward the second baseman, who races in and scoops it up bare-handed. DOYLE (V.O.) Hot shot toward the hole. Rudia knocks it down, gets up, fires to first. Too late! Hayes beats it! Doyle leans out the window again trying to pick up some cheering. DOYLE And so the string is broken. Maybe things will turn around a little for the Indians this year. THE BLEACHERS Our four fans (from here on known as the Bleacher Band), overjoyed by Hayes' hit, start beating the tom-toms and singing a fight song they've composed called "In the Land Of Burning Waters" to the tune of the old Hamms Beer jingle. BLEACHER BAND In the land of burning waters, waters Lurks the Injun nine, oh so fine, we Love those mighty Redmen, Turn their foes to dead men, Ummmmm. FIRST BASE AREA as Hayes comes back to the bag, where the Yankee FIRST BASEMAN is waiting for him. FIRST BASEMAN Showed some real power on that one, Slugger. HAYES I plan to get at least a double out of it. Hayes reaches in his back pocket and pulls out one of the pairs of black leather gloves he bought earlier. DOYLE (V.O.) And now Hayes is putting on a pair of black gloves, sending a little message to the Yankees. HAYES (to the First Baseman) Bought a hundred of these, one for each base I plan to steal. Excuse me, here, I gotta take my first step toward the Hall of Fame. Hayes takes his lead-off and crouches, ready to steal. FIRST BASEMAN You look real sharp, but you'll never steal second with your shoe untied. Hayes looks down at his shoe. It's not untied. He notices too late that the PITCHER is throwing over to pick him off. DOYLE (V.O.) Brewster, quick move to first... Hayes dives back for the bag, but never gets there; his face smashing up against the First Baseman's glove, which is already holding the ball. DOYLE (V.O.) He got him. Hayes is picked off. FIRST BASEMAN Nice base running, dildo. Hard to get your thumb out of your ass with the gloves on. Hayes lies in the dust humiliated. DOYLE Well, so much for that. Doyle takes a long pull on his Coke and we GO INTO A MONTAGE depicting the Indians' progressive disintegration in this game. We see: A) THREE FIELDERS converging on a short pop fly into left field. They all collide and go down in a heap as the ball drops untouched. B) DORN playing a grounder off his hip. He fumbles it, picks it up, fumbles it again. No play. C) TAYLOR crouched behind the plate, but up off his haunches, ready to throw. We hear the voice of his thoughts. TAYLOR'S VOICE Guy's goin'. Gotta be goin'... get the throw up. Don't bounce the damn ball. The runner on first takes off as the pitch comes in. Taylor catches the ball and fires down to second. The ball sails three feet over the second baseman's head and on into center field. Taylor stands there, disgusted. TAYLOR'S VOICE Nice throw, dickhead. D) CERRANO striking out on a curve ball. He bawls his bat out on the way to the dugout. E) THE THREE FIELDERS we saw before, converging on another pop fly into short left. This time all three dive off at the last instant to avoid a collision. Once again the ball drops untouched. END MONTAGE. THE SCOREBOARD It shows Yankees 4, Indians 0 after five innings. DOYLE UP IN THE BOOTH There are two empty Coca-Cola cups near the mike. He's working on a third. DOYLE Top of the sixth. Rookie sensation, Ricky Vaughn, on to pitch now. You can close the book on Winters... Vaughn stands on the mound rubbing up the baseball with the same intensity we saw in the locker room. TAYLOR Easy does it, Ricky. We're only four down. We're still in this thing. PEPPER Don't worry if you're off the plate on a few pitches. Doesn't hurt to put the fear of God in a hitter. Vaughn nods and continues to grind the ball as Pepper and Taylor leave. The Yankee Hitter steps in. Vaughn winds and fires a screamer. Taylor has to leap high to come down with it. DOYLE (V.O.) First pitch is a little high... The Yankee Hitter is slightly unnerved by this pitch. YANKEE HITTER This guy kinda wild? TAYLOR I figure you got a 30% chance to survive this at bat. ANOTHER PITCH to the Yankee hitter. It's outside. DOYLE (V.O.) Ball four. ANOTHER PITCH to a SECOND YANKEE HITTER. It's low. DOYLE (V.O.) Ball eight. ANOTHER PITCH to a THIRD YANKEE HITTER. He has to jump over it. DOYLE (V.O.) Low, and Vaughn has walked the bases loaded on twelve straight pitches. By the laws of probability, you'd think one of those coulda drifted over the plate. THE BLEACHER BAND Bobby gives the downbeat and, in honor of Vaughn, the three men stand to pound out a version of "Wild Thing" on the tom- toms. Bobby does the vocal. BOBBY Wild thing, You make my heart sing, You walk everything. Pepper has reached the mound... PEPPER Okay kid. I think we got 'em scared enough now. Time to get a few of 'em out. Vaughn nods. He's plenty upset with himself. PEPPER Just relax, and keep the arm up on top. Gotta throw strikes. No place at the inn for this guy. He gives Vaughn a pat on the butt, and goes back to the dugout. The Yankee hitter, HAYWOOD, stands in. He's the first baseman who tagged Hayes out. HAYWOOD Hey, Taylor, what you doin' back up here? TAYLOR Couldn't cut it in the Mexican League. Vaughn, determined to throw a strike, winds and delivers. The ball is a perfect strike, right down the middle. Haywood crushes it to deep left field. Vaughn drops his head, not even bothering to look. VAUGHN Oh, shit... The ball lands in the second deck; a grand slam home run. PEPPER (to Brown) Looked like a strike anyway. You want me to go get him? BROWN No, let's see how he reacts. Vaughn paces around on the mound, rubbing up the ball. The next hitter, COLEMAN, steps in. Vaughn gets up on the rubber, his face set. He winds up and fires one right into Coleman's back. Coleman goes down in a hurry. BROWN Interesting. PEPPER At least he hit what he was aimin' at. BROWN I think you can go get him now. Both benches are up on the dugout steps ready to come out. The only thing holding them back is that Coleman is being tended to by the trainer. The home plate umpire thumbs Vaughn out of the game. Vaughn comes down to protest, but Pepper quickly grabs him and hurries him off the field. PEPPER C'mon, kid. As soon as Coleman gets up, he's gonna be lookin' for you. Coleman finally gets to his feet, still a little shaken. He looks around for Vaughn, but he's already disappeared into the dugout. Coleman walks down to first under his own power. Brown signals for a new pitcher and the players on both sides begin to return to the benches. VAUGHN walking alone down the tunnel to the locker room. He angrily knocks one of the overhead light bulbs out with his glove. DOYLE IN THE PRESS BOX - LATER THAT NIGHT He now has five empty cups next to the mike, plus a near- empty bottle of Jack Daniel's. DOYLE So, a tough start for the Erie warriors, as they drop a heartbreaker to the Yankees, nine to nothing. The Post Game Show was brought to you by... (searching for the paper) Christ. I can't find it. The hell with it. This is Harry Doyle saying good night, everybody, and Happy Hunting. With that Doyle passes out on his face. RACHEL PHELPS in her private box at the stadium. With her are Donovan and Butler. RACHEL (getting up to leave) We're off to a good start, gentlemen. Let's keep it up. We GO TO Donovan. He watches Rachel go in disgust. INT. THE CASCADE BAR - NIGHT Taylor, Hayes and Vaughn are in a booth, having a beer. Vaughn is still in a funk. VAUGHN God, I was horse shit tonight. TAYLOR Only thing you got to be sorry about was hittin' Coleman. VAUGHN What? TAYLOR If you wanted to send a message, it shoulda been to Haywood. He hit the damn homer. Coleman was just picking his nose in the on-deck circle. Vaughn nods slowly. TAYLOR Forget the other stuff. It coulda happened to anybody. Besides, Haywood didn't hit it that good. That ball wouldn't have been out of a lotta parks. VAUGHN Oh yeh, name one. TAYLOR (after a pause) Yellowstone. Vaughn just looks at Taylor a second and then smiles in spite of himself. VAUGHN Shit... EXT. CLEVELAND MUNICIPAL LIBRARY - DAY We see Taylor walking up the steps and through the massive front door. INT. CLEVELAND LIBRARY - DAY We PICK UP Taylor making his way past the circulation desk. He glances around and finds what he's looking for: Lynn, talking to one of the reference librarians. She finishes her conversation and turns, to find herself face to face with Taylor. She's wearing her tortoise-shell glasses. LYNN (hushed) Jake, you shouldn't have come here. TAYLOR I was wonderin' why you'd give an old friend a bum phone number. LYNN Let's talk in my office, okay? TAYLOR I don't wanna talk in your office. Lynn starts to walk. We'll FOLLOW them as they make their way through the library. Lynn tries to keep the conversation hushed. Taylor could give a shit. LYNN I told you I don't think it's a good idea for us to see each other. TAYLOR Why not? LYNN We don't have anything in common. Sometimes I wonder if we ever did. TAYLOR What are you talkin' about? We were both athletes, world class, hot for each other. What more can you have in common? LYNN I stopped bein' an athlete three years ago. Books are my life now. Jake suppresses a smile. LYNN Don't you dare laugh, Jake. In two years I've put together one of the best special collections departments in the country. TAYLOR So what is it? You're still sore I never read Moby Dick? LYNN You never read anything I asked you to. TAYLOR Not like what's-his-name at the restaurant? LYNN His name is Tom, and keep your voice down. TAYLOR What do ya see in this guy? LYNN He's stable. He's intelligent... and I've never found him in bed with a stewardess. TAYLOR That's 'cause no stewardess would have him. Wouldn't you rather be with somebody who's in demand? LYNN Just like always, you don't take anything seriously. Everything's a joke to you. TAYLOR C'mon, Lynn, for Christ sake, I'm just tryin' to loosen things up a little. I'm gettin' frostbite here. Lynn stops and turns to face him. LYNN Tom and I are getting married in the fall. Taylor is momentarily floored by the revelation. TAYLOR What? That's crazy, Lynn. I got plans for us. LYNN (walking again) What plans? TAYLOR I was gonna play another a year or two, then we go to Hawaii, and have a couple kids who grow up to be Olympic champions. LYNN (stopping again) How can you think stuff like that? I haven't seen you in two years. You never even wrote me a letter. TAYLOR I'm sorry, Lynn, but I wasn't exactly proud of my situation. C'mon, you didn't think about me at all since I been gone? LYNN (walking again) Not so loud, Jake. TAYLOR Remember the three nights we spent on the beach in Vera Cruz? You have nights like that with Mr. Briefcase? LYNN (stopping again) What about the night you had in Detroit with Miss Dairy Queen? They're in the large reading room now. TAYLOR What was I supposed to do? She bet me fifty bucks she had a better body than you. I had to defend your honor. LYNN (whirling on him and exploding) What a bunch of bullshit! (exasperated) I have a much better body than she does. With this the whole reading room turns around and stares at her. Lynn is mortified by her outburst. Taylor tries to smooth it over. TAYLOR (addressing the library patrons) She's right. Take it from me, she really does. I mean Miss Dairy Queen has quantity, I give her that, but the, ah, quality just isn't there. Nice job, Jake. Lynn is still mortified. TAYLOR How many think Lynn oughta give me another shot? Most of the hands in the room shoot up. TAYLOR The ayes have it. LYNN (walking off again) You haven't changed at all, have you? TAYLOR I'm afraid I have or I wouldn't be here. C'mon, Lynn, I don't wanna do time for things that happened years ago. LYNN (turning back to him) I'm sorry, Jake. You'll always be the little boy who wouldn't grow up. Lynn starts off for her office door. TAYLOR Lynn, wait... Lynn continues on into her office. As the door closes, we GO TO Taylor's forlorn face. INT. RACHEL PHELPS' OFFICE - DAY Rachel is in closed-door session with Donovan. RACHEL A quarter of the season's gone, we're 15 and 24, seven games out of first. Our attendance is just below 180,000. That's bad, but not bad enough. DONOVAN Projected over the whole season, we stand to wind up 36 games under .500 and 28 out of first. That should be bad enough for anybody. RACHEL We finished 24 out last year and still drew 890,000. When school's out for the summer, attendance is liable to rise. Plus, this team is showing signs of improvement. I didn't think we'd win 15 games all year. Any ideas? DONOVAN On how we can get worse? (sarcastic) How about a series of fines for good play? Maybe a $30,000 bonus to the guy chosen Least Valuable Player. RACHEL This is no laughing matter, Donovan. (pause) I think maybe the problem is we're coddling these guys too much. As Donovan wonders what she means by that, we... CUT TO: INT. CLEVELAND AIRPORT - DAY We PICK UP Taylor, Hayes, Vaughn and the other Indians coming down a corridor to their plane. HAYES What's with this? We never leave from this terminal. TAYLOR Maybe the other one's jammed up. They come through the gate where they see two American Airlines jets on the tarmac. HAYES (pointing to the jets) Which one is ours? GATEMAN That one. The gateman points off-screen. Suddenly, an old DC-3, with the Indian logo on it, pulls into frame. CUT TO: INT. THE DC-3 - NIGHT This one was obviously bought from the military. The seats are 40's Army issue, and the ribs of the fuselage are exposed. The plane is bobbing and lurching through a ferocious storm. TAYLOR What is this, Lou? BROWN Front office says it's an economy measure, 'cause we're not drawin' good. TAYLOR Well, they certainly have spared every expense. We PICK UP Cerrano crossing himself. Harris sees it. HARRIS Oh, so now you come around. (pointing up) He's not fooled. Hayes sits petrified in his chair, his knuckles whitening on the arm rest. HAYES Call the stewardess, Vaughn. I need one of those bags. VAUGHN There aren't any stewardesses. HAYES I wonder if there's any pilots. INT. MILWAUKEE STADIUM - PRESS BOX -DAY We PICK UP Doyle doing the play-by-play of the Indians' next game. He can barely keep his eyes open. DOYLE Two down, top of the ninth. Last chance for the red and blue. THE FIELD The Brewer pitcher delivers and a Cleveland player hits a ground ball to the Brewer Second Baseman who throws him out. DOYLE (V.O.) Bouncing ball to second. This should be it. Collins up with it, on to first, and the game is over. DOYLE in the press box again. DOYLE So, the Sons of Geronimo, still suffering a bit from propeller lag, are nipped by the Tigers tonight, 7 to 0. The only excitement for the tribe provided by Rick Vaughn who set an American League record by throwing four wild pitches in one inning. Congratulations, Rick. For the Tigers, 5 runs, 9 hits, and no errors. For the Indians, one run, and let's see, one hit. (to his Stat Man) Is that all we got, one fucking hit? STAT MAN (whispering) You can't say "fuckin'" on the air. DOYLE Don't worry about it. Nobody's listening anyway. INT. HOTEL BAR - NIGHT Dorn and Harris are at one table; Taylor and Vaughn at one across the way. HARRIS Who you got lined up tonight? DORN Where are we? Kansas City, right? Gotta be Arlene HARRIS You call her? DORN Don't have to. She knows when I'm in town. TAYLOR AND VAUGHN TAYLOR I'm about ready to turn in. I've anesthetized my knees enough. A GUY from the bar approaches the table. GUY Excuse me, Mr. Vaughn, can I have your autograph? VAUGHN Ah... yeh... sure. (signing) My first autograph. I couldn't give these away a couple weeks ago. GUY I saw your record on the news. You made their Hall of Shame. Congratulations. VAUGHN (embarrassed) Thanks. TAYLOR You're a celebrity now, Vaughn. VAUGHN I thought you had to do somethin' good to be a celebrity. TAYLOR Not if you do it colorfully. DORN AND HARRIS DORN (pointing to the door) What'd I tell ya. We GO TO the door to find ARLENE standing with two friends, RENE and VICKI. ARLENE is a looker alright, 27, and seriously built. She cases the room, spies Dorn and comes over to his table. ARLENE Hi, Rodger. This is Vicki and Rene. DORN Hi, doll. This is Steve Harris. ARLENE Where's your buddy Gant? DORN (indicating Vaughn) They cut him to make room for bristle boy over there. ARLENE (looking over at Vaughn) Is that Vaughn, the guy they call Wild Thing? DORN (in disgust) Yeh. ARLENE He's kinda cute. They say he could be a big star. DORN What are you talkin' about? He couldn't find the plate if it was magnetized. He won't last the year. ARLENE He struck out five in a row before the wild pitches. (taking her leave) Maybe I'll check him out. DORN (grabbing her) Wait a minute, you're with me. Taylor watches this exchange from across the room. ARLENE I don't remember you makin' any date. DORN Since when do I have to make a date? Who's been showin' you this town the last three years? ARLENE Ancient history, Rodger. I gotta look out for myself now. I don't have to be a slave to no .235 hitter. ARLENE pulls away and heads for the jukebox as Dorn seethes. She punches a button and we hear X's version of "WILD THING." ARLENE sashays right up to Vaughn in time with the music. ARLENE Wild Thing, you make my heart sing. ARLENE knows how to make the big entrance. Vaughn's slightly overwhelmed. DORN taking this all in from across the room. Taylor comes up next to him. TAYLOR Guess we're over with, eh, Dorn? DORN Speak for yourself, Taylor. I got a couple good years left. INT. THE INDIANS' DC-3 - NIGHT We PICK UP Taylor in his seat, glasses on, reading something by the light of a flashlight rigged up to the back of his seat. We MOVE to reveal it -- the Classics Illustrated comic book of "Moby Dick." Hayes wanders by, an air-sick bag hanging around his neck. HAYES "Moby Dick?" What is that? TAYLOR It's one of the masterpieces of American literature, that's all. HAYES Lynn put you on to this? TAYLOR Long time ago. HAYES Well, we're goin' to a club tonight. You wanna come along? TAYLOR No, I got some more reading to do. Taylor indicates a stack of Classic Comics next to him. HAYES What, you got a test or somethin'? Why don't you just go over and see her? Maybe she'll let you slide on a couple of these. TAYLOR I might if I knew where she lives. HAYES Easy. Tail her home from the library. TAYLOR You mean sit in a car and wait for her to come out? That's kinda juvenile, don't you think? HAYES (as if that had anything to do with it) Yeh. EXT. CLEVELAND LIBRARY - LATE AFTERNOON Taylor sits in his car, across the street from the employee entrance of the library. He scrunches down a bit as Lynn comes out of the building and heads for her car. She gets in and we... CUT TO: SERIES OF SHOTS OF LYNN driving through the city with Taylor following at a discrete distance. Finally, Lynn pulls up outside an expensive-looking townhouse. Taylor pulls up further down the street and watches her go inside, debating whether to go in after her. INT. CLEVELAND BAR - EARLY EVENING Taylor's having a beer, still trying to decide whether to go see her or not. TAYLOR pulling up outside the townhouse he saw Lynn go into. He goes up the stairs and knocks on the door. Lynn answers, looking more dressed up than when she left the library. She's surprised to see Taylor. TAYLOR Look, Lynn, I'm sorry I followed you home but I wanna... LYNN (hurried) This isn't my place... TAYLOR Whose place is it? Before Lynn can answer, Tom appears at the door. TOM Who's there, love? (spying Taylor) Oh, Mr. Taylor, right? (pointedly) I remember you from the restaurant. Lynn's told me a lot about you. Why don't you come in for a while? TAYLOR Nah, that's o.k., I got some things to do... LYNN Yeh, he's gotta be goin'... TOM No, really, come on in for a drink. Before Taylor can beg off further, Tom ushers him inside and closes the door. In the room are two other couples: ARTHUR HOLLOWAY, a senior partner in Tom's firm and his wife CLAIRE, and BRENT BOWDEN, another lawyer in the firm and a contemporary of Tom's. His wife is JANICE. This is a very upscale group. TOM Excuse me, everybody, this is Jake Taylor. (making the intros) Jake, Arthur and Claire Holloway Brent and Janice Bowden. Jake is a professional baseball player. Polite nods from the group, except for Janice, who seems somewhat intrigued. TOM So, Jake, what brings you here this evening? TAYLOR I, ah, just had a couple books I wanted to discuss with Lynn. I thought this was her place. TOM Well, it soon will be. TAYLOR Yeh, I heard you guys were engaged. Congratulations. Taylor sticks out his hand. Tom's not sure whether Taylor's putting him on or not. He shakes anyway. TOM Thank you. What can I get you to drink? TAYLOR Beer'll be fine. Tom goes off to get the beer. JACK What team do you play for, Jake? TAYLOR The Indians. CLAIRE Here in Cleveland? I didn't know they still had a team. TAYLOR Yeh, we have uniforms and everything. It's really great. TOM (handing Jake his beer) They're last right now, but hopefully moving up, eh, Jake? Tom clinks his glass with Jake's beer, the slight condescension in his manner not lost on Taylor. Lynn is uncomfortable with this whole situation. Janice moves a bit closer to Taylor. It's obvious she finds him attractive. JANICE I'm told that baseball players make very good salaries these days. TAYLOR That depends on how good they are, I guess. JANICE How good are you? Lynn is irritated by Janice's directness. TAYLOR I make the League minimum. Tom and the others react as if Taylor's just announced a death in the family. LYNN He was one of the best in baseball until he had problems with his knees. Everyone is somewhat surprised by Lynn's quick defense of Taylor, including Lynn herself. TOM What are you going to do when your career ends? I mean you can't play baseball forever, can you? TAYLOR Somethin'll come up. TOM Will it? TAYLOR I don't know, I was thinkin' of goin' to Hawaii, and having a couple of kids who grow up to be Olympic champions. JACK Oh really. In what event? TAYLOR Swimming. Maybe the two hundred meter Individual Medley. I figure it oughta be big by then. Jack just nods. He never heard of it. BRENT You got the girl picked out? TAYLOR I did, but I wasn't smart enough to hold on to her. Lynn's eyes drop to the floor. BRENT You used to be an athlete, didn't you, Lynn? LYNN (not wanting to pursue it) Yes. BRENT What did you do? LYNN (reluctant) Two Hundred Individual medley. TAYLOR Alternate on the '80 Olympic Team. A tense silence settles on the group. TAYLOR Well, I gotta be goin'. Nice to have met you all. Taylor exchanges a quick glance with Lynn and heads for the door. TOM Let me walk you out. Tom accompanies Taylor to the door, out of earshot of the others. TAYLOR Thanks for the beer. TOM Don't mention it. TAYLOR I'll let you know if I land a good job. I know you're concerned about it. TOM Yeh, well, I just wanted Lynn to know what she would've had ahead of her. Tom sticks out his hand. The two men shake to keep up appearances for their onlookers across the room. TOM Stay away from her. TAYLOR (smiling) Suck my dick. INT. VAUGHN'S ROOM - DAY Vaughn and Hayes are watching a soap opera on an old black and white TV. Pepper pops his head in. PEPPER Lou wants to see you down at the office, Rick. Vaughn looks somewhat apprehensively at Hayes. INT. LOU BROWN'S OFFICE - DAY Brown is lost in thought at his desk. Vaughn appears at the door like a boy expecting a spanking. BROWN C'mon in, Rick. Vaughn comes in and takes a seat. He's worried. BROWN Rick, I'm not gonna beat around the bush here. You got a great arm, one of the best I've ever seen, but your control hasn't come around like we hoped it would. Vaughn nods contritely. BROWN Now, there are a lotta pitchers that started out wild and, after workin' it out in the minors, for a while, went on to great careers. (pointing to a picture on the wall) Take Sandy Koufax there... Vaughn looks at the picture on the wall. He squints slightly. Brown notices it. VAUGHN What about Koufax? BROWN Never mind Koufax. Brown quickly prints some big letters on a legal pad and goes to stand about fifteen feet from Vaughn. BROWN Read these letters, starting at the top. Vaughn balks a second and then concentrates on the pad, squinting. Unsettled, he squints harder. He even tries closing one eye. BROWN Can't read it, can you? Vaughn shakes his head no. VAUGHN You gonna send me to the minors? BROWN Nope. CUT TO: OMIT Sequence omitted from original script. INT. CLEVELAND LOCKER ROOM - NIGHT Taylor, Hayes, Vaughn and the others are dressing out for the game. Vaughn is wearing his glasses. VAUGHN These things make me look ridiculous. TAYLOR Drop in the bucket, Vaughn. Meanwhile, Cerrano is sharpening a long knife at his locker. VAUGHN What's that for? CERRANO Gin and cigarettes not enough for Jo- Buu. I still can no hit curva ball for sheet. I hafta make a sacrifice to him. TAYLOR Sacrifice? You mean like something living? CERRANO Si. I kill unborn children. HARRIS Not while I'm here you're not. That