"In writing fiction, the more fantastic the tale, the plainer the prose should be. Don't ask your readers to admire your words when you want them to believe your story." - Ben Bova [ more quotes ]

"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's
murder.

Cerrano pulls the unborn chicken out of his pocket -- a common
store bought egg. Harris is a little embarrassed at his
outburst.

Cerrano touches the egg to his forehead, then places it on
his altar. In one swift motion he slams the knife down on
it, cutting it into two perfect halves. Taylor and the others
are agape at a knife sharp enough to do this. As the yolk
spreads out on the altar, Brown emerges from his office.

BROWN
All right, let's hit the field.

The locker room quickly empties, leaving one man behind --
Harris. He looks around to make sure everyone is gone, then
tiptoes over to Cerrano's locker. Screwing up his courage,
he picks up Jo-Buu's cup of gin.

HARRIS
Here's looking at ya, Jo-Buu.

He bolts it down, then backs into the middle of the room,
waiting at the ready, as if half-expecting a bolt of
lightning. When nothing happens, he gloats at the fetish
doll in triumph.

HARRIS

strutting out of the dugout, feeling like a million bucks.
As he emerges onto the field, a Hitter in the batting cage
swings and misses, the bat slipping out of his hands. Away
it flies, whirling off down the third base line in a wide
arc. It hits Harris in the back of the head and knocks him
cold.

CUT TO:

HARRIS

watching the game from the dugout, a zip-lock baggie full of
ice-cubes strapped to his head.

DOYLE (V.O.)
We're in the ninth, two down, man on
first and the Indians clinging to a
one run lead. VAUGHAN, one out away
from his first major league victory...

OMIT

Sequence omitted from original script.

VAUGHAN

Vaughn, wearing his new glasses, paces the mound nervously.
He goes to the rosin bag, wipes his brow, shakes out his
arm. Finally up on the rubber, he gets the sign from Taylor,
goes to his stretch, checks the runner and fires to the plate.

THE OAKLAND BATTER

swings and hits a grounder between third and short. Dorn
moves to his left, but the ball goes past his glove and into
left field. There is some question as to whether Dorn really
gave it a full effort.

DOYLE (V.O.)
Bouncing ball, Dorn can't get to it,
into left field, base hit. Clarke
digging around second, he'll make it
to third, and the A's have runners
at the corners.

Vaughn stomps around on the mound, obviously upset. He glares
at Dorn a beat before getting back on the mound. Dorn's face
is non-commital. Brown paces in the dugout.

PEPPER
You want me to go get him?

BROWN
No, he's come this far. Let's see if
he can finish it.

Doyle downs a little more rum and coke in the press box.

DOYLE
Vaughn in a little trouble here, but
I'll tell ya, these Cleveland fans
are great. Listen to them get behind
Vaughn.

Doyle imitates the sound of a crowd cheering with his own
voice, punctuated by whistles and clapping.

THE BLEACHER BAND

Thelma calmly knits her blanket with the scores of all the
Indians' games stitched into it, the Madame La Farge of
Cleveland. The boys, however, are a little restless.

BOBBY
We need some defense here. Maybe we
oughta do a wave.

JOHNNY
C'mon, Indians don't do waves. Let's
keep this thing pure.

VIC
What harm could it do?

REXMAN

The next Oakland hitter, steps in. Taylor flashes a sign.
Vaughn comes to the stretch and delivers. High, ball one.
The runner on first goes down to second without a throw, the
pitch being too tough to handle.

DOYLE (V.O.)
Runner goes, high, Taylor has no
play. The go-ahead and potential
winning run is in scoring position.

Taylor walks out in front of the plate to throw the ball
back to Vaughn.

TAYLOR
Forget the runners, Ricky, get this
guy at the plate.

Taylor goes back behind the dish. Vaughn gets up on the
rubber. He winds and comes to the plate. Way high this time.

DOYLE
High ball two, and the crowd doesn't
like that call one bit.

Doyle imitates the sound of a crowd booing. Taylor, meanwhile,
has gone out to the mound.

TAYLOR
Okay, let's get nasty here, Rick.
You know he's lookin' for this pitch.
Gotta come up with somethin' studly.

VAUGHN
Fuckin' Dorn. Game shoulda been over
by now. Dorn coulda had that ball.
He tanked it on purpose.

TAYLOR
This isn't the California Penal
League, Vaughn. We're professionals
here. We don't tank a play for
personal reasons, so cut the crybaby
shit. You've pitched a helluva game.
You wanna finish it, don't ya?

Vaughn nods.

TAYLOR
Can you give me a strike on this
pitch?

VAUGHN
Yeh, but I don't know if there'll be
much on it. My arm feels like jello.

TAYLOR
Just make sure it's over the plate.
I want him to swing.

VAUGHN
The last time I did that, the guy
hit one that hasn't landed yet.

TAYLOR
Don't worry, I'll take care of it.

Taylor starts back toward the plate, and then stops.

TAYLOR
By the way, I been meaning to ask
you. Why'd you steal that car?

VAUGHN
I was bored.

TAYLOR
Next time you might think about takin'
in a movie or somethin'.

Vaughn permits himself a little smile and release from the
tension. Taylor smiles back, and trots off toward the plate.

THE BLEACHER BAND

Bobby and Vic are doing a two-man wave. When one sits down,
the other stands up.

TAYLOR

has settled in behind the plate now. He starts talking to
the batter, Rexman.

TAYLOR
Helluva situation we got goin' here,
huh, Rexman? Two on, two out, you're
down by a run in the ninth. You got
a chance to be a hero on national
television, so whatever you do, don't
blow it. They'll be callin' you a
gutless choke artist all over America.

Rexman shoots Taylor a wicked glance.

TAYLOR
You're a free agent at the end of
the year. Not much demand for gutless
choke artists. What are you hittin'
now? .230? .240?

REXMAN
.316.

TAYLOR
Hey, nice average. Uh oh, on second
thought, that still means you got a
seven outta ten chance of goin' in
the dumper.

Rexman, slightly irritated, backs out of the box.

REXMAN
Shut up, will ya, Taylor?

TAYLOR
Hey, I can understand not wantin' to
talk about baseball when your nuts
are in a vice like this.

Rexman gets back in the box.

TAYLOR
By the way, I saw your wife at the
Capri Lounge last night. Hell of a
dancer. You must be very proud.

Rexman is trying to ignore Taylor, but failing badly. Taylor
flashes a sign to Vaughn. Vaughn goes into his windup.

TAYLOR
But that guy she was with... I mean
I'm sure he's a close personal friend
of yours and all, but tell me...

Vaughn releases his pitch.

TAYLOR
...Why was he wearing her panties on
his head?

Rexman, completely unnerved, takes a feeble swing and hits a
high pop-up out in front of the plate.

TAYLOR
Uh oh, Rexie, I don't think that
one's got the distance. Maybe if the
wind comes up.

Taylor moves out two steps and makes the catch easily, ending
the game.

Taylor rushes out to congratulate Vaughn. The players exchange
handshakes and high fives, as Brown watches from the dugout.

BROWN
It's startin' to come together,
Pepper. It's startin' to come
together.

EXT. DORN MANSION - AFTERNOON

Taylor pulls up outside and walks up to the door. Suzanne,
Dorn's wife, answers.

SUZANNE
Oh hi, Jake, how are you?

TAYLOR
Fine, Suzanne, can I have a quick
word with Rodger?

SUZANNE
Sure, c'mon in, he's in the den.
I'll get some coffee.

We FOLLOW Taylor into the luxurious den, where we find Dorn
watching his wide screen TV in a smoking jacket.

DORN
Hey, Jake, old boy, what brings you
out here?

TAYLOR
I just wanta tell ya somethin', but
I didn't want to do it in front of
the whole team.

DORN
Sure, go ahead.

TAYLOR
(like nails)
I don't know what your problem is,
but...
(bending close to
Dorn)
...if I ever see you tank another
play like you did tonight, I'll cut
off your nuts and stuff 'em down
your fuckin' throat.

Dorn looks at Taylor for some sign that he's kidding. He
doesn't get one.

Taylor turns and walks on out, as we go to Dorn's stunned
face. Suzanne walks in with a tray.

SUZANNE
Coffee anybody?

INT. INDIANS' LOCKER ROOM - DAY

The Indians are undressing after practice.

HAYES
Why the hell are we havin' practice
during the All-Star break?

TAYLOR
I heard the Big Lady upstairs ordered
it.

VAUGHN
It's hotter than shit in here. What
happened to the air conditioning?

INT. TRAINING ROOM - DAY

We go to Brown, naked and dragging from the heat. He
approaches the whirlpool and turns on the water.

BROWN
(to Dorn)
Oh man, this old body can use a soak.

DORN
Forget it. It's not workin' again.

Brown flips on a switch. The whirlpool makes some grinding
noises and then quits altogether.

BROWN
Damn it, I thought they were gonna
replace this thing.

Harris shouts over from the showers where he's just turned
on the water.

HARRIS
Hey, there's no hot water in here.

BROWN
She's at it again. I've had it with
this nickel and dime stuff.
(storming out of the
training room)
I'm gonna get the Bitch on the phone.

Brown is stopped short by the sight of Rachel Phelps standing
in the middle of the locker room as various unclad players
dive for cover.

RACHEL
You wanted to see the Bitch?

BROWN
Yeh.

RACHEL
Don't you think you oughta cover
yourself with a towel first, Mr.
Brown?

BROWN
There aren't any towels, and I'm too
old to be diving under benches.

RACHEL
Well, I can take it if you can.

BROWN
What happened to the new whirlpool
we were supposed to get?

RACHEL
Revenue problems have forced us to
cut back on equipment. We'll simply
have to fix the old one.

BROWN
You fixed it six times already. And
now there's no hot water in the
showers.

RACHEL
The pipes in this building are old
and rusted. We're replacing them,
but it's a long, expensive process.

BROWN
How am I supposed to keep my players
healthy with cold water and no therapy
equipment?

RACHEL
Your players will just have to get a
little tougher. What are they, a
bunch of pansies?

Immediately, 30 arms shoot up behind her in the Italian "up-
yours" gesture. She turns around, but by then the players
have quickly returned to normal positions.

BROWN
Over 162 games even tough guys get
sprains, sore arms, muscle pulls...

RACHEL
It's only temporary. Besides, these
guys weren't playing that good when
the equipment was workin'. If I could
get anybody to come and watch this
team, none of this would be necessary.
You oughta be grateful I can still
pay your salaries.

With that, Rachel turns and walks out. Brown and the others
can only watch her go.

CUT TO:

OMIT

Sequence omitted from original script.

OMIT

Sequence omitted from original script.

CUT TO:

SPORTSCASTER ROSS FARMER

On the air.

FARMER
In case you haven't noticed, and
judging by attendance, you haven't,
the Indians, that thought-to-be
hopeless collection of has-been's
and never-will-be's is actually
approaching the .500 mark, and with
it, semi-respectability. Nothing to
write home about, to be sure, but at
least we don't have to cover our
eyes.

INT. THE INJUN DINER - DAY

Bobby, Vic and Johnny are at the counter.

VIC
Ya know, they could be a lot worse.

INT. PRIVATE GYM - DAY

The Business Executive is talking with a friend while working
out on the Nautilus machines.

BUSINESS EXECUTIVE
Ya know, I may have underestimated
this team a bit.

EXT. THE CLEVELAND DOCKS - DAY

The two Longshoremen again.

LONGSHOREMAN
Ya know, these guys aren't so fuckin'
bad.

EXT. CLEVELAND MUNICIPAL STADIUM - DAY

The two Groundskeepers are repairing the pitcher's mound.

GROUNDSKEEPER
(in subtitles)
They're still shitty.

OMIT

Sequence omitted from original script.

OMIT

Sequence omitted from original script.

[...]

Brown storms out of the dugout, doing his best to look
incensed.

TAYLOR
Ah shit, here comes Lou. Gimme a
break, Mel. I gotta get outta here.

WINGO
All right, kick some dirt on me. The
Commissioner'll buy that.

TAYLOR
Right. Good idea.

Taylor begins kicking dirt on Wingo's shoes, ala Billy Martin.
Wingo takes a dramatic hop, skip and jump and gives Taylor
the heave-ho thumb just as Brown arrives. Wingo turns away.

BROWN
(to Wingo)
Hey, don't you go anywhere. I wanna
have a few words with you.

Brown grabs Taylor and pulls him aside.

BROWN
(under his breath)
What are we arguin' about here?

TAYLOR
(struggling as if he
wanted to get at
Wingo)
Fucker called that a ball.

BROWN
You mean the one that was a foot
outside?

TAYLOR
Yeh.

Taylor breaks away and starts back to the dugout. Playing it
to the hilt, he throws his glove and mask to the ground on
the way.

Meanwhile, Brown is going jaw to jaw with Wingo, outraged at
the call. Brown pulls a carrot out of his back pocket, and
offers it to Wingo, who immediately thumbs him out.

LYNN

leaving her seat and starting up the aisle.

Taylor comes up the stairs from the locker room, still in
full uniform. He emerges onto the box level to see Lynn
disappearing down the ramp toward the parking lot.

LYNN

in the parking lot. As she goes to unlock her car, Taylor
looks around hurriedly for some kind of vehicle to follow
her in.

He bangs on the bullpen gates and is admitted by the guard.

Inside is the Bullpen car, a souped-up golf cart with a body
shaped like a batting helmet. Taylor hops in and roars out
after Lynn.

INT. CLEVELAND ATHLETIC CLUB - NIGHT

Lynn comes out of the dressing room into the pool area,
deserted this time of night. She wears a racing suit, but
lets her hair hang free. The pool glows like a sheet of
emerald glass. She shakes down a beat, curls her toes around
the coping, slowly bends at the waist, and then launches
into a full-out racing dive.

We watch as she swims a 100 yard individual medley; first
the butterfly, then the backstroke, breaststroke and finally
freestyle. We condense the time, of course, SHOOTING some
underwater, some SLO-MO, as she knives through the water,
her hair flowing behind her, an athlete alone with her medium.
The SEQUENCE should convey not only the grace of her strokes
and her athletic ability, but the fluid beauty of swimming,
its synthesis of power and form.

As she begins the freestyle leg, another body appears in the
pool next to her. It's Jake, and he's racing her the final
lap. She immediately responds to the challenge, digging
harder, picking up her kick. They go neck and neck for 20
yards, but Lynn has one more gear and touches him by half a
body length at the wall. Both are winded.

TAYLOR
You still got that great kick. Just
like the first time I ever saw you.

LYNN
You follow me here too?

TAYLOR
Yeh, what did you want to see me
about?

LYNN
What do you mean?

TAYLOR
You wouldn't have been at the game
if you didn't want to see me about
something.

LYNN
(getting out of the
pool)
I just wanted to see you play.

TAYLOR
How was I?

LYNN
You looked good, but you oughta open
your stance a little. They're pitching
you inside.

TAYLOR
I'll try that. You wanna have some
dinner?

LYNN
Sorry, I already ate.

TAYLOR
Right. I forgot your life is different
now.

LYNN
(getting out of the
pool)
Thanks for the race.

TAYLOR
(watching her go)
Anytime.

INT. LYNN'S CAR - NIGHT

Driving through the city on her way home. Lynn glances in
the rear-view mirror and spots Taylor following her. She
smiles to herself. Taylor, of course, thinks he's gone
undetected.

We begin a SHORT SEQUENCE during which Lynn tries to lose
Taylor in a chase through Cleveland, car vs. batting helmet.

The logistics will have to be worked out in Cleveland, but
suffice it to say, by the end of the chase she appears to
have ditched him.

EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Lynn comes up the stairs, unlocks the apartment door and
steps inside. There's no particular urgency. She feels sure
she's shaken Taylor.

The apartment is full of packing boxes. Tired from the chase,
Lynn drops her bag on a box and slumps down on the couch.
It's obvious she's not all that happy to have lost Taylor.
She goes to the window and looks down to the street for some
sign of him.

Seeing nothing, she turns away from the window disappointed,
and starts back to the couch, when something stops her. It's
Taylor, standing in the doorway.

TAYLOR
Whose place are we at this time?

LYNN
(flustered)
Mine. You follow me again?

TAYLOR
Yeh. When I saw you at the game, I
figured you wanted to see me about
something.

LYNN
I just wanted to see you play.

TAYLOR
How was I?

LYNN
You looked good, but you oughta open
your stance a little. They're pitchin'
you inside.

TAYLOR
I'll try that.

Taylor gives a perfunctory nod. They look at each other a
second. There's still plenty there. Taylor begins to come
toward her. We hear his cleats on the floor. She backs off,
but not with real conviction.

LYNN
I think I oughta tell you that I'm
moving in with Tom.

TAYLOR
Goin' uptown, huh?

LYNN
I'm not goin' uptown, I just want to
lead a regular life. You know, like
an adult maybe. With a house and a
garden and normal hours.

TAYLOR
You think I can't lead a regular
life?

LYNN
You like the life you've had, Jake.
You like hangin' out with the boys,
livin' in hotels, eatin' dinner at
midnight, having girls send you their
underwear in the mail. Remember the
surprise party I threw for you when
you made the All-Star team? You never
showed up, but the doorbell rang
once and we all got quiet and hid
behind the furniture. It was a guy
to serve you with a paternity suit.

TAYLOR
That was a hoax. The girl was just
trying to get some publicity.

LYNN
Yes, but you had obviously been with
her. And it happened in front of all
our friends.

TAYLOR
I was drownin', Lynn. The endorsements
were dryin' up, my knees were goin',
they were talkin' about sendin' me
down. I was just trying to hold on
to somethin', prove to myself I was
still an All-Star. I don't care about
that anymore. I know I don't have
much time left in baseball. I'm just
a guy trying to put his life back
together. Thinkin' about you was the
only thing that kept me goin' in
Mexico.

Lynn looks at him a long beat.

LYNN
I've come back to you too many times,
Jake. I can't afford to believe you
anymore.

Lynn is backed up against a desk now. She could move out but
doesn't.

TAYLOR
I guess this is our last hurrah then.

LYNN
I guess so. Did you really read "Moby
Dick?"

TAYLOR
Cover to cover.

Taylor comes forward to kiss her, tentatively at first. Their
conversation is interwoven with the slowly deepening intensity
of their kissing.

TAYLOR
When's the wedding?

LYNN
October third.

TAYLOR
Your mom and dad like this guy?

LYNN
You're still their favorite.

They're unbuttoning each other's shirts now.

TAYLOR
Gonna be a big wedding?

LYNN
Tom doesn't like big weddings. You
coulda read Plot Outlines of 101
Great Novels.

TAYLOR
Where?

LYNN
At any library.

TAYLOR
I mean the wedding.

LYNN
All Saints on Euclid.

TAYLOR
Nice church.

LYNN
Yeh. Who saved Ishmael at the end?

TAYLOR
Nobody. It was Queequeg's coffin. Am
I invited?

LYNN
Where?

TAYLOR
To the wedding.

LYNN
If you want. Maybe you really did
read it.

Their shirts are off now.

LYNN
This doesn't change anything, you
know. We were always good at this.

TAYLOR
Lynn?

LYNN
What?

TAYLOR
The zipper on your skirt is stuck.

LYNN
Use your imagination.

Taylor's spikes come down across her skirt, catching in the
material, ripping it from her body and pinning it to the
wood floor. Taylor steps out of the shoe and whisks Lynn OUT
OF FRAME. We hold on the skirt, nailed to the floor by the
cleats.

INT. LYNN'S BEDROOM - MORNING

Taylor wakens and turns over to find Lynn gone. He looks
around but there's no sign of her.

EXT. LYNN'S APARTMENT - DAY

Taylor comes down the steps, gets in his car, and drives OUT
OF FRAME. We HOLD on the SHOT, and...

DISSOLVE TO:

THE SAME SHOT - THAT NIGHT

Taylor's car pulls INTO FRAME. He gets out and goes up the
steps. There's one light on in the apartment window. Taylor
comes up to the door and knocks. Getting no answer, he pushes
it open to find that the apartment is completely empty. Just
bare hardwood floor. Taylor stands forlorn in the center of
the room a beat, then walks on out, switching off the overhead
light as he goes.

INT. RACHEL PHELPS' OFFICE - DAY

Donovan is present once again. Rachel does not look pleased.

RACHEL
Well, my worst fears have been
confirmed. We're 60 and 60, nine
games out of first, and only two out
of the first division. Who do those
guys think they are?

DONOVAN
Maybe you just have to accept the
fact that they're not as bad as you'd
hoped.

RACHEL
I don't have to accept anything. Our
attendance is only beginning to rise.
If we can force a losing streak for
a week or two, we can still turn
this thing around. The fans are used
to losers here. At the first sign of
a slump they'll give up on this team.

DONOVAN
What's left to do? You've taken away
everything you can.

RACHEL
Not everything.

CUT TO:

EXT. RURAL HIGHWAY - DAY

We pick up a decrepit old Greyhound bus coming down the
highway, belching smoke like a diesel semi. On the side we
see the visage of Chief Wahoo and the words "Indian Express."

INT. INDIAN EXPRESS - DAY

Complete with all the luxuries of the average school bus.
Temple is looking at a memo from Rachel Phelps.

TEMPLE
Memo says we'll only be usin' this
for short trips.

BROWN
Good thing we don't play anybody in
Europe.

TAYLOR AND HAYES

Taylor is staring out the window, still morose about Lynn's
leaving. A stack of Classics Illustrated comics sits next to
him.

HAYES
Can I borrow one of those, man? They
don't have any magazines on this
bus.

TAYLOR
Sure, go ahead. I think my reading
days are over.

HAYES
Macbeth. This a good one?

TAYLOR
(pointing to his stack
of Classics)
These are all Hall of Famers.

Hayes is impressed.

EXT. CITY OF NEW YORK - NIGHT

The Indian Express makes its way through the streets of New
York, enroute to the Indian's hotel.

INT. INDIAN EXPRESS - FULL SHOT

We see that now most of the team is reading classic comics.

HAYES
(to Dorn)
I'll trade you Song of Hiawatha for
The Deerslayer.

DORN
Naw, I'm not into Song of Hiawatha.

HAYES
All right then, how about Crime and
Punishment?

DORN
Yeh, that sounds pretty good. That's
a detective story, right?

HAYES
Yeh.

INT. INDIAN EXPRESS - NIGHT

The bus slows down and pulls over to the curb.

DRIVER
This is it. The Sheffield Arms.

The players all crowd to the window to get a glimpse of their
hotel. Hotel is actually overstating it. This place is one
cut below the YMCA.

BROWN
I don't know if we can survive any
more of these economy measures.

INT. THE SHEFFIELD ARMS - DAY

We pick up Taylor, Hayes and Vaughn coming into their
dilapidated hotel room. Peeling walls and ceilings, rickety
furniture, rusted bathroom fixtures. Taylor sprawls down on
one of the cots. It collapses on the floor in a cloud of
dust.

EXT. YANKEE STADIUM - DAY

Vaughn is on the mound warming up.

DOYLE (V.O.)
So, Ricky Vaughn, roughed up in his
only other appearance against the
Yankees, will see what he can do
with the Bronx Bombers this time.
Vaughn, after a slow start, has come
on lately and now leads the American
League in strikeouts with 221.

Vaughn finishes his warmups. As Taylor pumps the ball down
to second, Vaughn hears a voice from the Yankee dug-out.

VOICE
Hey, jailbird!

Vaughn glances over and sees that one of the Yankees is
dressed in a striped prison uniform. He also wears long
earrings, high heels, and of course, glasses. Vaughn tries
to ignore the guy, but his concentration is broken.

Vaughn steps up on the rubber for his first pitch. He winds
and fires. The Yankee LEADOFF HITTER rips a one-hopper to
the wall in right center. Hayes runs it down and guns it
back to the infield to hold the guy to a double. The convict
whoops it up.

Vaughn gets back up on the rubber. As he comes to the stretch,
he catches sight of the convict again. The guy is doing a
pantomime, sneaking up to a car and picking the lock, much
to the delight of his teammates. Vaughn throws his pitch in
the dirt and all the way to the backstop. The runner on second
goes to third.

TAYLOR
(throwing the ball
back)
C'mon, Rick baby, settle down.

Vaughn gets ready again. The convict finishes picking the
lock and then is suddenly arrested. He puts his hands against
the wall and spreads his legs for a weapons check, cracking
up the whole bench. Vaughn is getting a little steamed. His
next pitch is hammered into left for a single, scoring a
run.

THREE SHOTS OF VAUGHN

throwing pitches, followed by:

SHOTS

of the THIRD HITTER lining a double down the right field
line, the FOURTH HITTER a triple off the center field wall,
and the FIFTH HITTER a single to right. The scoreboard now
reads 4 to 0 Yankees. Taylor comes out to talk to Vaughn.

TAYLOR
What's the problem, Rick? You're
throwin' basketballs up there. That
guy in the dugout botherin' you?

VAUGHN
Naw, I'm all right.

TAYLOR
Forget him. Worry about the guys
carryin' bats. C'mon, Ricky, let's
get nasty.

Vaughn nods as Taylor trots back behind the plate.

Vaughn gets set again as his old nemesis, Haywood, steps
into the batter's box. Haywood has a sly smile on his face.

As Vaughn comes to his stretch, the convict goes back into
his act. He's in jail now, struggling against the bars.
Finally he bends over and grabs his ankles, while one of his
teammates humps up against him, pretending to bugger him.
This sends the Yankee bench into hysterics.

Vaughn has lost it now. He fires to the plate and Haywood
creams another tape measure job into the upper deck. Hayes
doesn't even bother to run back to the wall. He just watches
it go. 6-0 Yankees.

BROWN
I thought now that Vaughn had some
control, he was ready for the Yankees.

PEPPER
Not quite yet.

Brown makes his way to the mound to take Vaughn out.

DOYLE (V.O.)
So, Vaughn pitches in some tough
luck here as the Yankees put together
as few squib hits and take a 6-0
lead.

DOYLE

in the press box. The stadium below is empty, the grounds
crew covering the infield.

DOYLE
Well, the Indians made a gallant
comeback today, but fell one run
short as the Yankees held on for a 6-
5 victory, although they didn't do
squat after the first inning. Anyway,
if the bus makes it here from the
hotel we'll be on at 7:30 tomorrow
night. Till then, this is Harry Doyle,
saying so long, everybody, and Happy
Hunting.

INT. THE HOTEL BAR - NIGHT

Brown is alone in the bar having a drink. A figure sits down
on the stool next to him. It's Donovan.

DONOVAN
Mind if I join you?

BROWN
(surprised to see him)
Donovan. Hell no. What are you doin'
here?

DONOVAN
Just wanted to get out on the road.
You damn near pulled one out today.

BROWN
Someday we'll figure out how to beat
those guys.

DONOVAN
Ya know, you've done a helluva job
this year.

BROWN
Sixty and sixty-one is hardly a
helluva job.

DONOVAN
With this club it is.

BROWN
Ya know, when I first got to camp I
figured this team had no chance. I
was just hopin' we'd win enough that
I could stay on and really start to
build something here. But there's a
lotta talent on this club, Charlie.
The veterans are starting to play
back to form and the rookies are
developing faster than I thought.
There's two or three potential all-
stars in there. I think we're a first
division team right now.

DONOVAN
You really believe that, don't you?

BROWN
I know it. All we need is something
to bring it all together.

DONOVAN
Rachel Phelps would never allow that.

BROWN
What do you mean?

DONOVAN
She doesn't want you in the first
division. She doesn't even want you
in Cleveland.

On Brown's incredulous face, we...

CUT TO:

INT. INDIANS LOCKER ROOM - DAY

The players are all gathered around, obviously having been
called together by Brown.

BROWN
(addressing the group)
I got somethin' I think you oughta
know about. I wouldn't have known
about it myself if Charlie Donovan
hadn't told me, although I shoulda
guessed it from everything that's
happened. It seems that Mrs. Phelps
doesn't think too highly of our worth.

We take several CUTS OF FACES around the room.

BROWN
She put this team together because
she thought we'd be bad enough to
finish dead last, knockin' attendance
down to the point where she could
move the team to Miami.
(pause)
And get rid of all of us for better
personnel.

Taylor, Vaughn, Hayes, Dorn, and the others can hardly believe
what they're hearing.

DORN
Even me?

BROWN
Even you, Dorn.

Silence descends on the room.

HAYES
In other words, Phelps thinks we're
all dinks. That we don't belong in
the big leagues.

BROWN
That's about it.

HARRIS
What if we don't finish last?

BROWN
She'll replace you with somebody who
will. After this season, you'll all
be sent back to the minors or given
your outright release.
(pause)
So, all we're gonna get is this one
year.

Taylor surveys the bowed heads around the room. He stands to
address the group.

TAYLOR
I don't know about the rest of you,
but I've been playin' baseball since
I was five years old. I've had some
good years and some years to forget.
I've burned out my knees... I don't
think I have three fingers that work
right... I've lost most of the money
I made and baseball has messed up my
personal life from time to time. But
I know one thing... I can still play
this game a little. And I'd like to
know who in this room thinks they're
the kinda bum Mrs. Phelps is lookin'
for?

Eyes dart around the room, then come back to Taylor. No hands
are raised...

TAYLOR
Well, then, I guess there's only one
thing to do.

DORN
What's that?

TAYLOR
Win the whole fuckin' thing.

We take CUTS of the startled faces of the players. As the
idea sinks in, they begin to come to life. MUSIC begins and
we're into a...

MONTAGE SEQUENCE

detailing the newly-motivated Indians' drive for the pennant
and the "Pennant Fever" it creates in Cleveland. We begin
with...

BROWN

hanging a full size blowup of Rachel Phelps on the locker
room wall. In the picture she's pointing as if out at the
players, and a bubble above her head says, "YOU GUYS STINK!"
A set of designer clothes, of the type Rachel wears, have
been superimposed on the picture. The clothes are divided
into 32 pull-off squares.

BROWN
I figure it's gonna take 32 more
victories to win this thing. Every
time we win, we peel a square.

HAYES

coming out of an elevator in the Turk, with a wheelbarrow
full of dirt. We pan him down the hall, where we see a dirt
sliding area he's been building up.

HAYES

leading off a makeshift base in the hall of the Turk. As
Vaughn tosses a ball up in the air, Hayes takes off down the
hall toward another base on the dirt sliding area.

Vaughn catches the ball and rifles a throw down to Taylor,
who puts the tag on the sliding Hayes. Cerrano, who's umping,
calls Hayes out. Hayes jumps up and argues vociferously,
hopping around in frustration.

OMIT

Sequence omitted from original script.

PEPPER

hitting one rocket-shot ground ball after another at Dorn.
Some bounce off his chest and arms, but Dorn stays in front
of every one.

DORN

taking off his shirt in the locker room. His chest is a mass
of welts and bruises.

CERRANO

"polishing" his bats with black shoe polish and a brush.

TAYLOR

taking batting practice late at night. He attacks the ball
swing after swing.

OMIT

Sequence omitted from original script.

VAUGHN

taking his stretch with a man on first, and firing to the
plate. The Batter swings and misses for strike three, while
the Runner on first breaks for second. TAYLOR rifles a throw
down to second nailing the Runner for a double play.

DORN

taking a hot smash off his chest. He picks it up and guns
the runner down.

OMIT

Sequence omitted from original script.

HAYES

stealing home, as the opposing Pitcher tries frantically to
hurry his windup. Hayes slides across safely, hooking to the
infield side. He jumps up and punches the air with his fist.

HAYES

nailing up the pair of black gloves he used to steal home
above his bed.

NEWSPAPER HEADLINE

"INDIANS WIN FIFTH STRAIGHT, CRACK FIRST DIVISION"

EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT

Ross Farmer, microphone in hand, stands in front of a blazing
bonfire. A large crowd cheers as various people throw doormats
on the blaze.

FARMER
(to TV camera)
You remember bra burning in the '70's,
well, the newest thing in Cleveland
is doormat burning as Indian fans
are standing up and saying "We won't
be stepped on anymore".

THREE QUICK SHOTS OF VAUGHN

blowing fast balls by hitter.

RACHEL

with Donovan next to her, watching all this good play in
disgust.

AN ANGEL HITTER

lining a single to center. Cerrano charges it and fires to
the plate as a Runner tries to score from second. Just as
Taylor catches the ball, he's once again knocked flat by the
Runner. This time he lies still a beat, and then an arm comes
up holding the ball.

The Umpire thumbs the Runner out.

TAYLOR

late at night, sitting head-down in the outboard motor
whirlpool. He's hurting.

EXT. CLEVELAND DOWNTOWN STREET -DAY

We PICK UP three Teenage Girls walking down the street wearing
T-shirts that say WILD THING--I THINK I LOVE YOU. A Black
Kid comes by wearing black gloves on each hand. As he passes,
he holds up one finger signifying Number One. The Girls return
the signal.

EXT. EXECUTIVE'S OFFICE - DAY

The Business Executive passes his secretary's desk, gives
her some instructions, and goes into his office. As soon as
he's out of sight, she opens her drawer and slips the earplug
from a portable radio into her ear. OVER, we hear the Indians'
BROADCAST.

THE EXECUTIVE

inside his office. He opens his desk drawer and pulls out an
earplug. He's also listening to the game.

OMIT

Sequence omitted from original script.

OMIT

Sequence omitted from original script.

INT. BURLESQUE JOINT - NIGHT

The Stripper is wearing a squaw costume, with black glove
and a WILD THING T-shirt.

Several members of the audience have radio earplugs on.

NEWSPAPER HEADLINE

"INDIANS SWEEP ORIOLES, MOVE INTO SECOND."

SERIES OF SHOTS

of squares of leopard skin fabric being peeled away. Under
one is revealed a section of bare hip and thigh. Under
another, a navel. Under still another, the edge of a bare
breast and arm.

THE INDIAN TEAM

all dressed in tuxedos, posed "team picture" style on the
infield of Municipal Stadium.

TEAM
(in unison)
Hello, do you know us?

TAYLOR
We're a Major League baseball team,
but since we haven't won a pennant
in thirty years, nobody recognizes
us, not even in our own hometown.

VAUGHN
That's why we carry the American
Express card. No matter how far out
of first we are, it keeps us from
getting shut out at our favorite
hotels and restaurants.

CERRANO
So if you're looking for some big
league clout, apply for the little
green home run hitter.

TAYLOR
Look what it's done for us. People
still don't recognize us, but...
(whispering)
...we're in the first division now.

HAYES

sliding across home plate in his tuxedo and stopping IN FRAME.
He holds up an American Express card in a black-gloved hand.

HAYES
The American Express card. Don't
steal home without it.

SHOTS OF FANS

filing into Cleveland Municipal Stadium. Tickets being ripped,
programs sold, etc.

TAYLOR

swinging and hitting a home run into the left field seats.

THE BLEACHER BAND

beating the tom-toms and whooping it up. The SHOT WIDENS to
reveal they're no longer alone in the stands.

HAYES

nailing up another pair of gloves above his head. There are
a lot of them up there now.

INT. THE INDIAN BUS - NIGHT

On the road again. Everyone's asleep except Taylor who lies
across his seat, heating pads on his knees.

THE LONGSHOREMEN (POSSIBLE OMIT)

watching TV in a Cleveland working-class bar. Also cheering
the Indians are several punk and heavy metal kids, their
faces painted with Indian war paint. Strange bedfellows.

CERRANO

hitting a prodigious home run onto the roof.

DONOVAN

standing up to cheer Cerrano's homer, then remembering he's
with Rachel. He sits down apologetically. Rachel watches the
events on the field with a face of cold steel.

TAYLOR

hitting a double into the right centerfield alley with two
runners on.

Hayes, the trailing runner, catches up with the lead runner,
and they reach the plate at about the same time, one sliding
around the Catcher one way, one around the other.

Both score as the Catcher tries to tag both and gets neither.

FANS IN THE STANDS

going wild, while the Indian mascot dances on top of the
dugout.

TV SCREEN

The program in progress is suddenly interrupted by a Sports-
Break logo appearing on the screen.

VOICE
We interrupt this program to bring
you the following special bulletin.

ROSS FARMER

live outside the Indian's locker room. He wears a headdress,
warpaint, and a Wild Thing T-shirt.

FARMER
Good evening, everybody. The
incredible has happened. The Indians
have finished the regular season in
a first place tie with the New York
Yankees on the strength of a 4-2 win
over the Tigers in Detroit today.
There will be a one-game playoff
here in Cleveland the day after
tomorrow to decide the Eastern
Division Championship, the Indians
having won the coin flip held just
moments ago in the American League
office. We'll have further details
on the news at 11, but for now, get
your tomahawks ready, Cleveland.

CLOSEUP - A PIECE OF LEOPARD SKIN FABRIC

We hear cheers as it's ripped away to reveal the photographic
image of Rachel's cleavage. We PULL BACK to see the life-
size poster is now completely peeled. Rachel stares out at
us in a G-string and tassels. The photo is obviously from
her showgirl days.

General merriment prevails in the locker room. Players shaking
hands, back slapping, etc. Hayes comes by to exchange
congratulations with Taylor. MUSIC and MONTAGE END.

HAYES
Hey, not bad for a has-been and a
never-will-be.

TAYLOR
We haven't won anything yet. We still
got one more to go.

Dorn comes by Taylor's locker.

DORN
Hey, Taylor, there's a coupla drop-
dead Annies outside. One of 'em says
she used to know you pretty good.
Brunette, great rack...

TAYLOR
Darla.

DORN
Yeh. What doya say we chat 'em up?

TAYLOR
(without much
enthusiasm)
I don't know...

DORN
C'mon, you're not gonna keep moonin'
over that library chick, are you?
Forget her, she's gone.

We leave Taylor thinking it over.

INT. DORN'S HOUSE - NIGHT

Suzanne Dorn is watching the 11 o'clock news. HAL CHARLES is
holding forth.

CHARLES
The Indians are spending the night
in Detroit and will bus back to
Cleveland in the morning. We're going
to go back now to Ross Farmer who's
standing by at the Hotel Stanley
where the Indians are staying in
Detroit. Ross?

The scene shifts to...

THE LOBBY OF THE STANLEY HOTEL

where Ross Farmer stands, microphone in hand. Behind him
several players can be seen partying in the bar.

FARMER
Thank you, Hal. As you can see, the
Indians are in high spirits tonight,
looking forward to their showdown
with the Yankees. Who will start
that game is still a matter of some
conjecture.

As Ross talks, Dorn walks INTO THE FRAME in the far background
with his arm around a YOUNG LOVELY. They're nuzzling and
hugging, unaware they're on camera, albeit in the background.
Suzanne doesn't miss it though. She moves closer to the screen
to get a better look.

Dorn and the Girl get in an elevator together, obviously
going upstairs. As the elevator closes, Suzanne hits the off
button. She sits there a second in shock, and then her face
begins to harden.

INT. TAYLOR'S HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT

Taylor and DARLA are undressing, preparatory to getting into
bed. They are definitely no strangers to each other.

DARLA
You still got that black Corvette?
The one that the sound system took
up the whole trunk?

TAYLOR
No, I had to sell it.

DARLA
I thought they gave them to ya.

TAYLOR
Not after your knees go bad.

DARLA
That's all right, you'll be gettin'
a new one now.

Darla is down to her bra and panties. She puts her leg up on
the bed to unhook her stockings. Taylor is about to take off
his pants, but stops.

TAYLOR
Darla, I don't think I can do this.

DARLA
What do you mean? We did this between
innings once.

TAYLOR
I guess I'm just not that guy anymore.

Darla looks at him a long beat.

DARLA
(resigned)
Happens to the best of them sooner
or later. What's her name?

EXT. HALL OUTSIDE TAYLOR'S ROOM - NIGHT

The door opens and Darla comes out, fully clothed now. She
turns to say goodbye to Jake, who is still bare-chested.

DARLA
So long, Jake. Too bad. I was gonna
devote a whole chapter to you in my
book.

As Darla gives Jake a goodbye peck, the elevator door opens
across the hall, and out steps Lynn. She's obviously rattled
by the sight of Taylor and Darla together.

LYNN
Excuse me. I was in town for a
conference and thought I'd drop by,
but I can see you're busy...

With that she quickly steps back into the elevator and the
doors close.

TAYLOR
Lynn, wait...

Taylor leaps to the elevator door, but it's too late. He
then sprints to the end of the hall and down the stairs.

TAYLOR

running down the stairs and into the lobby. Seeing no sign
of Lynn, he races out the front door to see her pulling out
in a taxi. He can only stand and watch her disappear into
the night.

INT. THE INDIANS' BUS - DAY

We PICK UP Vaughn making his way to the back of the bus,
where Brown has his "office" on the last seat. Most of the
other players are asleep after a late night of partying.

VAUGHN
You wanted to see me?

BROWN
Yeh, Rick. I just wanted to tell you
that I'm startin' Harris tomorrow
against the Yankees, even though
it's your turn in the rotation.

Vaughn says nothing, but he's clearly disappointed.

BROWN
He's got more experience and a little
better record against the Yankees.

VAUGHN
Yeh, sure. Whatever's best for the
team.

BROWN
Don't read anything into it, Rick.
You're one of the guys that got us
here.

VAUGHN
Yeh, okay.

Vaughn turns and walks back up the aisle. Brown watches him
go, knowing he's still upset.

EXT. MUNICIPAL STADIUM - DAY

The Indian bus pulls up outside the Stadium, where a group
of several thousand fans wait. The players are showered with
cheers and applause as they file out.

INT. BAR - NIGHT

Vaughn sits in the bar alone, nursing a beer, still troubled
by his demotion. He hears a sexy VOICE behind him.

VOICE
You mind if I join you?

Vaughn turns around to see Suzanne Dorn. She's dressed to
draw blood, looking better than we've ever seen her. She
slides into the booth.

VAUGHN
I don't think I'd be very good company
tonight.

SUZANNE
Why not?

VAUGHN
Nothin'. Job problem.

Vaughn falls silent. Suzanne stares at him with a devastating
combination of sexual heat and tender admiration. She's
pulling out all the stops. Vaughn's a little flustered.

VAUGHN
I'm, ah, a ball player.

SUZANNE
I know, but that's not why I came
over. I don't chase ball players.

VAUGHN
Why did you come over then?

SUZANNE
Because you're the sexiest man I've
ever laid eyes on, and you look like
you could use a... friend.

We GO TO Vaughn. Forget it. He's a goner.

INT. VAUGHN'S ROOM - NIGHT

Vaughn has dozed off in the bed. Suzanne, is getting dressed.
Vaughn wakes up as she finishes.

VAUGHN
Where you goin'?

SUZANNE
I've gotta get home.

VAUGHN
I didn't even get your name.

SUZANNE
Suzanne. Suzanne Dorn

VAUGHN
(having heard that
name someplace before)
Suzanne Dorn?

SUZANNE
Mrs. Suzanne Dorn.
(kissing him on the
forehead)
So long. You're a great kid.

With that she walks on out, leaving Vaughn dazed by the
knowledge of who he's just slept with.

THE HALL OUTSIDE VAUGHN'S ROOM

Taylor is coming back from the bathroom down the hall as
Suzanne comes out of Vaughn's room.

SUZANNE
(nonchalant)
Hello, Jake.

TAYLOR
Hello, Suzanne.

Taylor is amazed by what he's just seen. As soon as Suzanne
is out of sight, he goes to Vaughn's room and opens the door.

TAYLOR
Vaughn?

Vaughn is sitting on his bed in a state of disbelief.

VAUGHN
I swear to God I didn't know who she
was.

Taylor nods that it's all right even though he doesn't believe
it.

DISSOLVE TO:

OMIT

Sequence omitted from original script.

THE LIMO

pulling up outside the church. Lynn is helped out of the car
by her Father. As she starts up the steps, she sees that
both sides are lined by the entire Cleveland Indians team in
uniform. They form an arch of bats as she passes. At the top
of the steps is Taylor. Lynn stops as her father ushers her
mother on into the church.

TAYLOR
You look beautiful.

LYNN
Thank you. I didn't think you'd come.

TAYLOR
I can't stay.
(indicating the team)
We gotta get to the park.

LYNN
Good luck today, Jake.

TAYLOR
Yeh, you too.
(pause)
Tell me one thing. The night you
came up to my hotel -- was there
really a library conference?

LYNN
No, I came to see you.

TAYLOR
Too bad it didn't work out better. I
just wanna say I'm sorry for all the
things I've put you through over the
years.

LYNN
Even for last night?

TAYLOR
Can't be sorry for that. Nothing
happened.

He says this with absolute conviction. Despite herself, Lynn
senses that he's telling the truth.

LYNN
Then you weren't defending my honor
again?

TAYLOR
I didn't have to. She knew she was
outclassed.

Lynn smiles. He gives her a kiss and watches as she goes
inside. He stands there a long beat, then turns and walks
slowly down the steps past his teammates.

INT. RACHEL PHELPS' OFFICE - DAY

Rachel is looking out at the empty stadium. There's a KNOCK
at the door.

RACHEL
Come in.

The door is opened by a Male Secretary and in steps Lou Brown.

RACHEL
Hello, Lou, what can I do for ya?

Lou puts a folded piece of paper on her desk.

BROWN
I wanted to hand in my resignation
before you had a chance to fire me.

RACHEL
What do you mean?

BROWN
I know what you been tryin' to do
with this team. After the season, I
want no part of it.

RACHEL
Well, I knew I could count on Charlie
to tell somebody. I was just afraid
he might take too long.

BROWN
Why would you want him to tell
somebody?

RACHEL
So you'd tell the team, hopefully
getting them mad enough to knock
themselves out trying to prove they
belonged in this league. I think it
worked.

BROWN
You tryin' to make me believe you
wanted us to win all along?

Rachel nods.

BROWN
Bullshit. What about the plane, the
bus, the bad hotels...

RACHEL
We were broke. We couldn't afford
anything better. Donald left the
team nearly bankrupt. If we'd had
another losing season, I would have
had to sell the team. I knew we
couldn't win with the team we had,
so I decided to bring in new players
and see how they'd do with the proper
motivation. There was never any offer
from Miami. I made it all up.

BROWN
Why should I believe any of this?
Now that we're winnin' it's easy for
you to jump on the bandwagon.

RACHEL
If I'd really wanted you to lose,
all I had to do was send the best
players back to the minors. But I
didn't, did I?

Brown has no comeback for this. He knows now that she's
telling the truth.

RACHEL
You think this was all an accident?
I personally scouted every member of
this team, except Hayes, of course.
He was a surprise. They all had flaws
which concealed their real talent,
or I wouldn't have been able to get
them. But I knew if anyone could
straighten them out, you could. And
if you tell them any of this, I will
fire you.

Brown can only shake his head at this whole thing.

RACHEL
I love this team, Lou. Go get 'em
tonight.

The two shake hands. Brown looks at Rachel a beat, still
looking for some sign of duplicity. Finally he gives her a
grudging smile of respect.

INT. THE TURK - LATE AFTERNOON

Taylor, Hayes, Vaughn and the others are getting ready to
board the bus to the stadium. Taylor pulls Vaughn aside.

TAYLOR
I don't know what Dorn's wife is up
to, but I think it'd be best if you
dressed early and got out to the
bullpen before Dorn comes in.

Vaughn nods.

HAYES
(to Taylor)
We got a problem. Cerrano wants some
extra power for tonight. He's lookin'
to sacrifice a live chicken. We can't
have people pukin' in the locker
room before the game.

TAYLOR
Tell him not to worry, I'll take
care of it.

INT. DORN'S HOUSE - LATE AFTERNOON

Dorn is ready to leave for the park.

DORN
Bye bye, honey, wish me luck.

SUZANNE
Before you go, there's something I
wanta tell you.

Uh oh, we know what this is all about.

CUT TO:

EXT. CLEVELAND MUNICIPAL STADIUM - NIGHT

The place is jammed. 75,000 screaming maniacs, most of them
decked out in war paint and head dresses. Some carry plastic
scalps with Yankee hats on them. Others have caps with the
European "No" insignia superimposed over a door mat.

DOYLE

In the press box.

COLORMAN
Here's your bourbon.

DOYLE
Won't need it tonight.

THE LOCKER ROOM

starkly quiet in contrast to the stadium outside. Each player
has retreated into his own world of concentration.

Dorn approaches Taylor, who's fitting heavy athletic braces
on both knees.

DORN
You know where Vaughn is?

TAYLOR
Nope. Haven't seen him.

DORN
Let me know if you do. I wanna have
a little talk with him.

Dorn moves off.

CERRANO
Where's my chicken?

TAYLOR
It's comin' in now.

We see a Bat Boy enter with a bucket of fried chicken. Cerrano
looks at it in bewilderment.

TAYLOR
One whole chicken, like you said.

CERRANO
But it no alive.

TAYLOR
Believe me, Jo-Buu will like this.
He's gotta be gettin' tired of raw
chicken.

As Cerrano hefts the bucket somewhat skeptically and takes
it to his altar, we...

CUT TO:

HARRIS

warming up in the bullpen. The tension of starting such an
important game shows in his face.

DOYLE
Hello, everybody, Harry Doyle bidding
you a Wahoo welcome from beautiful
Municipal Stadium, where tonight
before a capacity crowd of 75,000
screaming featherheads, the braves
of the Cuyahoga will leave their
teepees in search of Cleveland's
first League Championship in over 30
years. Standing in the way, their
long time nemesis, the New York
Yankees, the Big Boys of Broadway,
who have beaten the Indians like a
tom-tom all year long.

Down in the dugout, the players are lined up ready to take
the field. They exchange words of encouragement, hand slaps,
clenched fists, but all at a very low key level. This is
tension time.

BROWN
All right, guys, let's take it to
'em.

The Indians charge onto the field to a standing ovation.

In the center field bleachers Thelma's victory blanket
containing the scores of every Indian game for the season,
hangs from a railing. Bobby, Vic and Johnny pound the tom-
toms leading the stadium in a monster version of "In the
Land of Burning Waters." Even the groundskeepers join in.

Two down in the first. Harris looking sharp so far... Bouncing
ball to third. Dorn up with it.

HARRIS

Throwing the first pitch. The YANKEE HITTER grounds one to
Dorn who throws him out.

THE SCOREBOARD

0-0 in the 3rd.

CERRANO

striking out on a curve ball.

HAYES

robbing a Yankee of a home run by making a leaping catch
over the fence.

TAYLOR

picking a Yankee runner off first.

THE SCOREBOARD

0-0 in the 5th.

OMIT

Sequence omitted from original script.

CERRANO

striking out on a curve ball, trying to check his swing.
Umpire emphatically punches him out.

DOYLE

Looking past him to the field. Harris is on the mound. There's
a runner on second.

DOYLE
Still nothing -- nothing, top of the
seventh, two down. Harris has been
in trouble all night, but has battled
his way out with the help of some
great defensive plays.

Harris comes set and delivers. The Yankee hitter, BURTON,
(L) swings and gets all of it.

DOYLE (V.O.)
Uh oh, this one's tagged. Deep center
field. Way back. Way back.

Hayes climbs up on the wall, but it's long gone. Home run.

DOYLE (V.O.)
It's off the reservation, home run.
And the Yankees lead it 2-0.

RACHEL'S BOX (INSERT STORYBOARD # 209G)

RACHEL
Shit.

Donovan is a little confused by this.

Burton trots around the bases and is greeted by jubilant
teammates at the plate. A silent pall falls on the stadium.
As the "2" goes up on the scoreboard, we...

CUT TO:

HAYES

popping up and flinging his bat away in frustration. We take
CUTS of the worried fans, chewing fingernails, wadding up
programs, hanging their heads, etc.

TAYLOR

grounding out, obviously having trouble running. We take
CUTS of worried faces on the bench.

DORN

stepping into the batter's box. The crowd is practically
sitting on its hands now. Hope draining away.

DOYLE (V.O.)
Dorn up now, two down, bottom of the
seventh. The Indians running out of
chances.

Dorn swings at the first pitch and lines a sharp single to
left. The crowd and the Indian bench suddenly come alive.
Cerrano moves to the plate.

DOYLE (V.O.)
That'll bring on Cerrano, hitless
tonight. As a matter of fact, he
hasn't touched the ball yet.

The crowd and bleacher band begins to clap as Dorn takes his
lead. Cerrano swings at the first pitch and misses. An audible
groan goes through the crowd.

The Yankee pitcher gets set again, and throws Cerrano a big,
roundhouse curve. He misses it a foot. Strike two.

BROWN
Damn, havin' trouble with the curve
ball again.

HAYES
We should've gotten him a live
chicken.

Cerrano steps out and begins to talk to his bat, gesturing
and pointing as if arguing with his wife.

CERRANO
I pissed off now, Jo-Buu. I good to
you, I stand up for you. If you no
help me now, I say fuck you, Jo-Buu.
I do it myself.

Cerrano gets back in the box and digs in. The Yankee pitcher
comes to his stretch and delivers. Another big breaking curve
ball. Cerrano swings and knocks the crap out of it. Everyone
in the stands and on the bench jumps to their feet, rooting
for the ball to get out.

DOYLE (STORYBOARD #212EE)

DOYLE
Long drive, deep centerfield. Way
back. It might be. It could be. The
ball is... Downtown, welcome to the
Happy Hunting Ground. The game is
tied.

The fans go crazy as Cerrano circles the bases.

RACHEL'S BOX (STORYBOARD # 212GG)

Rachel jumps out of her seat, hands above her head. Donovan
hesitates a beat, then follows suit.

Cerrano carries his bat with him, holding it high above his
head. As Cerrano disappears into the dugout, we go to the
scoreboard as the 2 goes up.

DOYLE (STORYBOARD # 212NN)

DOYLE
Two down in the top of the ninth,
still tied at 2, Harris working on
an eight-hitter.

CUT TO:

YANKEE HITTER

lining a single to right field. Harris mops his brow,
obviously tiring.

ANOTHER YANKEE HITTER

smashing a double off the wall, the lead runner stopping at
third. Brown signals to the bullpen to get somebody warm.

HARRIS

on the mound, looking like he's out of gas.

DOYLE (V.O.)
Activity continues in the pen, as
Harris is really digging himself a
hole now. He got the first two
hitters, and then gave up a single
and a double and has now gone 3-0 to
Cheevers.

Harris comes set and fires to the plate. It's way high.

DOYLE (V.O.)
High, ball four and they're loaded
for Haywood, the biggest Indian killer
of them all.

Brown has seen enough. He makes his way to the mound.

BROWN
(taking the ball from
Harris)
You pitched a hell of a game, Steve.
Take a seat and we'll see if we can
get this guy for ya.

Brown signals to the bullpen with his left hand.

BROWN
Give me Vaughn.

TAYLOR
(surprised)
You want Vaughn?

BROWN
I know he hasn't done real well
against this guy, but I got a hunch
he's due.

VAUGHAN

striding in from the bullpen. He doesn't look relaxed. As he
nears the infield he purposely doesn't look at Dorn. Dorn
stares at him with undisguised venom.

As Vaughan gets to the mound, he sees Patton getting his
convict uniform on in the Yankee dugout. He looks away to
see Haywood in the on-deck circle smiling out at him.

Meanwhile, the CROWD has gone nuts at the sight of Vaughn.
Bobby, Vic and Johnny are blasting out "Wild Thing" on the
tom-toms and the whole stadium, 75,000 strong, is singing
it. Doyle just pushes the mic forward and lets the crowd do
it's work.

BROWN
Okay, Ricky, Haywood likes the hard
stuff in. Curve him on the hands,
bust him away, and don't get up with
anything. You listenin' to me Rick?

Vaughn nods, but we can tell he's too nervous to have digested
any of that.

BROWN
(Patting him on the
butt)
O.K., kid, you're my man. Let's go
get him.

TAYLOR
C'mon Ricky, this guy is the out you
been waitin' your whole life for.

Brown and Taylor leave Vaughn alone on the mound, the SINGING
of the crowd ringing in his ears.

DOYLE (INSERT STORYBOARD #216N)

DOYLE
O.K. Vaughn has finished his warmup
and we're ready to...

No sooner has Taylor settled in behind the plate, than Dorn
starts toward the mound. Vaughn watches him come with fear
and trepidation.

TAYLOR
(seeing it)
Oh, shit.

Dorn arrives at the mound, and holds out his hand for the
ball. Vaughn gives it to him. Dorn rubs it up, staring long
and hard into Vaughn's eyes. Vaughn is sweating bullets.
Finally Dorn speaks.

DORN
Let's cut through the crap. I only
got one thing to say to you. Just
rear back and strike this motherfucker
out.

He smiles and hands Vaughn the ball back. Vaughn returns the
smile and accepts the ball. While Dorn trots back to his
position, Vaughn turns his back to the plate for one last
moment of concentration. As he turns around to face us, we
see a new man as the wicked opening CHORDS of X's "Wild Thing"
are heard on the TRACK, only louder and more savage than
before.

Vaughn steps up on the rubber, his face hardened into fierce
resolve. There's nothing nervous about him now. This kid is
gonna make somebody pay.

DOYLE (V.O.)
Haywood steps in, the American League
triple crown winner. .341 average,
48 homers, 121 R.B.I.'s. He's homered
the only two times he's faced Vaughn.

Taylor sets down a sign. Two fingers for the curve ball.
Vaughn shakes it off. Taylor puts down another sign. Vaughn
shakes it off. Finally, Taylor puts down one finger -- the
fast ball. Vaughn nods with steely purpose.

TAYLOR
All right, Ricky, let's get nasty.

Vaughn winds and delivers a hissing blur toward the plate.
Haywood takes a ferocious swing and misses. Strike one.

We see the number 97 come up on the digital readout of the
SPEED GUN which a club employee holds behind the screen.

TAYLOR
(to Haywood)
All right, looks like the boy is
pumped. Sucker was movin', wasn't
it? Ever hit ya, it'd leave a two
foot hole comin' out.

Taylor gets ready to flash another sign. The convict jumps
up and down trying to distract Vaughn. No way.

TAYLOR
(for Haywood's ears)
Let's see, what should we call now.
Let's see how he feels about old
number one.

Taylor puts down one finger. Vaughn nods and then winds and
fires again, another blazing rocket. Haywood takes a wicked
rip, but doesn't get it. Strike two. 99 comes up on the gun.
The convict has stopped jumpin'.

TAYLOR
Nice swing, Haywood. Good follow-
through. Keep it up, I'll show you
the ball sometime.

The fans are going wild. They're all standing now, yelling
for a strikeout. Vaughn gets back up on the rubber with the
look of an animal sighting prey. Taylor gets down to give
the sign.

DUGOUT (INSERT STORYBOARD # 216R)

BROWN
Forget the curveball. Go with the
heater.

TAYLOR
Well, shit, all these pitches to
choose from. Maybe we'll try somethin'
different this time.

Taylor wiggles his fingers around and then puts down the big
No. 1. Vaughn gives him a quick nod.

TAYLOR
And if I don't see you again, Haywood,
have a nice winter. Okay, buddy?

Vaughn goes into his windup and unleashes a screaming bullet
toward the plate. Haywood pulls the trigger, but it's already
by him. Strike three. 101 on the gun. Taylor leaps up and
gives Vaughn the fist. The fans are going berserk. MUSIC
ends.

DOYLE (V.O.)
Oh, Lordy, three straight heaters
and the Yankees are blown down. No
runs, two hits, three left on, and,
are you ready, Cleveland? We go to
the bottom of the ninth, still tied
at two.

Doyle turns the mike off.

DOYLE
(to his color man)
Can you believe this, Monty?

Monty takes a big swig straight from the bourbon bottle.

OMIT

Sequence omitted from original script.

ANOTHER INDIAN HITTER

grounding out to short.

HAYES

walking up to the plate.

DOYLE (V.O.)
Two down in the ninth, Hayes steps
in hitting .291, trying to get
something going for the Tribe.

Taylor and the others yell encouragement to Hayes as he digs
in at the plate. The Yankee pitcher delivers and Hayes hits
a high bouncer toward short. The shortstop waits for it to
come down and then fires to first. Too late. Hayes streaks
across the bag, beating the throw by a hair. Once again the
CROWD comes to life.

The Yankee Manager comes to the mound and waves for a new
pitcher.

DOYLE (V.O.)
And Horton is wasting no time. He's
goin' to the Duke.

Out of the pen comes BILLY DUKE, a good facsimile of Goose
Gossage only Duke is bigger and meaner.

(INSERT STORYBOARD #219M)

DOYLE
Duke leads the league in saves,
strikeouts per inning and nose hairs.

The Duke finishes his warmups and stares over at Hayes. Hayes
smiles, snaps his black gloves out of his hip pocket, and
carefully pulls them on over his hands.

The Duke does not care for this kind of showmanship.

Brown comes over to talk to Taylor, who's been watching Duke
from the on-deck circle.

BROWN
Ya know I'd be an ass not to pinch-
hit for you here. You're 0 for 18
against Duke. Plus you're beat to
shit you can hardly walk, there's no
way you can get around on this guy's
fast ball. So I want the absolute
truth here. Can you beat this guy?

TAYLOR
Yeh.

BROWN
Okay.

Taylor starts for the plate, as Duke finishes his warmups.
Brown comes down the dugout steps.

BROWN
(to Pepper)
Send Hayes the first pitch. I don't
want Taylor takin' too many strikes.

Pepper begins flashing signs out to Hayes. Duke gets up on
the rubber and takes his stretch. Hayes leads away, crouching
low. Duke snaps a throw over to first, the first baseman
slapping a hard tag on Hayes, but Hayes is back.

The crowd is on its feet again. The "GO" chant starts,
punctuated by thousands of black-gloved hands punching the
night air.

Duke comes set again. Hayes leads away. Duke watches him,
checks him again. We go to SLOW MOTION as Duke kicks and
comes to the plate.

Hayes takes off like a shot, head down, eating up ground.
Taylor swings and misses. The Yankee catcher comes up
throwing, rifling a clothesline dart to second base. Hayes
leaves his feet diving for the bag. The second baseman snaps
down the tag. Too late. Hayes is in there.

The stadium is really rockin' now. Duke prowls the mound.
Taylor steps out of the box and flashes a sign to Brown.

PEPPER
What's he doing?

BROWN
Flashing some signals. That's a hell
of an idea.

Brown flashes a sign out to Hayes. A hint of a smile comes
over Hayes' face as he dusts himself off.

Taylor steps back in as Duke gets up on the rubber. Taylor
digs in his back foot, then points to the left field bleachers
ala Babe Ruth.

DOYLE (V.O.)
What's this? Taylor is pointing to
the bleachers, calling his shot.

The crowd, electrified by Taylor's gesture, remains on its
feet. Duke stares in at Taylor, comes to his stretch and
then lets go a steaming fast ball right at Taylor's head.
Taylor goes down in a swirl of dust, the ball missing him by
inches. The stadium explodes with BOOS, but as soon as Taylor
picks himself up, the crowd begins to ROAR again.

Bobby, Vic and Johnny are pounding out a heavy beat on the
TOM-TOMS. Everyone in the stadium begins to CLAP in unison
with the DRUMS.

Taylor steps back in and once again points to the bleachers.

DOYLE (V.O.)
(Taylor points again)
Unbelievable. They're on their feet
here, stomping, clapping. C'mon,
join in wherever you are out there.
Let's hear you, Cleveland.

THE LONGSHOREMEN

and several of their friends at their bar, huddled around
the RADIO with the punks and heavy metal kids we saw before.
Slowly they begin to clap in time with the tom-toms which
are audible on the T.V.

THE BUSINESS EXECUTIVE

at the opera with his wife, a radio earplug in his ear. His
hand taps on his leg in sync with the TOM-TOMS.

THE TWO KOREAN GROUNDSKEEPERS

(Sc 222 before scene 221) beating on their shovels in the
bullpen.

LARGE APARTMENT BUILDING

FRAMED against the Cleveland skyline. In several of the lit
windows we see people banging things or clapping.

THE STADIUM AGAIN

Duke gets back on the hill. Getting the sign he wants, he
comes to his stretch, checking Hayes at second.

As Duke starts his delivery to the plate, we go to SLOW
MOTION. The clapping in the stadium stops as everyone hushes
to watch the pitch. We...

CUT TO:

THE LONGSHOREMEN, THE BUSINESS EXECUTIVE, THE GROUNDSKEEPERS
AND THE APARTMENT DWELLERS

They've all stopped too in anticipation of the pitch.

THE STADIUM

Everything from here on will continue to be in SLOW MOTION.
As Duke whips his arm toward the plate, Hayes takes off for
third. Taylor, instead of swinging away, shortens up on the
bat and bunts Duke's pitch down the third base line.

The Yankee third baseman, caught completely unaware, charges
the ball frantically.

TAYLOR

barreling down the line toward first on his sore legs, giving
it everything he's got.

THE THIRD BASEMAN

scooping up the ball barehanded and firing on the run to
first.

TAYLOR

pounding down the line. He strains for the bag as the Yankee
first baseman stretches to his limit for the throw. Taylor
and the ball arrive at almost the same time. Taylor hits the
bag and then sprawls in the dirt as his knees give out.

The umpire brings up his arms, and spreads them wide. Safe.
Taylor's beaten it.

The first baseman looks up to see something that strikes
fear into his heart across the field. It's...

HAYES

streaking for home, trying to score all the way from second
on a bunt.

The first baseman fires to the plate, as the catcher positions
himself for the throw. Hayes launches into a flying feet-
first slide. The catcher brings the tag down. Hayes hooks to
the outside, his trailing foot reaching for the plate.

DOYLE (V.O.)
Hayes is gonna try to score! Here
comes the throw. He slides. He is...

Hayes' foot catches the corner of the plate. The umpire puts
the palms down and whips them apart. It's all over, folks.

SLOW MOTION ENDS

DOYLE
...Safe. The Indians win it. The
Indians win. Oh my God, the Indians
win it!!

Pandemonium breaks loose in Municipal Stadium. Rachel hugs
Donovan, dances around, punches the air, then hugs Donovan
again. Everywhere people are hugging and kissing each other.
Bobby, Vic and Johnny are going berserk in the bleachers.
Thelma sits quietly, a tear rolling down her cheek.

QUICK CUTS

of our other fans. We see...

A) The Business Executive stand up and yell "Yes!" in the
middle of the opera. Several other men stand up and express
their excitement as well.

B) The Longshoremen whoop it up in their bar -- exchanging
fives and hugs with the punkers and heavy metal kids.

C) The various apartment dwellers dancing, clapping, yelling
out the windows.

D) The two Korean Groundskeepers just shaking their heads in
amazement.

E) Elsewhere in the stadium, the joyous exultation continues
unabated. The crowd pours onto the field as Hayes runs toward
Taylor and literally leaps into his arms.

F) The two spin around throwing their fists in the air.

G) Cerrano and Harris embrace. Dorn gives Vaughn a hug, then
steps back and decks him with a right hand.

H) Dorn pulls Vaughn back to his feet, and they hug again.

I) Up in the stands, Rachel watches all this with tears in
her eyes.

Taylor starts off the field when he sees something that
catches his eye. Standing by the field rail is Lynn. She
holds up her left hand and smiles. There's no ring on it.
Taylor races over to her as she jumps down from the rail and
hugs herself to him. We HOLD on the celebration as it swirls
all around them, and...

ROLL CREDITS

THE END

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