Major League (1989)

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