Family Guy

Ah! This is so exciting!

I can't believe Daddy actually bought

a Minor League Baseball team.

I love coming to the ballpark.

Drunken Irish in front of a fishbowl of minorities.

What could go wrong?

Dad, what are you doing?

This is tailgating, son.

It's where you bring all your trash

and you leave it for someone else to deal with.

Here, help me get this Christmas tree out of the back.

Meg's estrogen supplements?

I'll take that. Thank you.

So, what do you think of your first tailgate, Stewie?

It's so great.

Dad gave me a sip of beer.

I'm gonna mention that to my teacher,

and it's gonna be a big problem.

Oh, there's Bonnie.

We always have so much fun at these things.

Hey, Bonnie, who's on first?

Who, the person's name or the pronoun?

Ha! And it goes on like this.

Hey, Joe, how's it going?

Sorry, Peter, no time to talk.

- It's my day to shine. - What?

Yeah. Handicapped person at the ballpark...

Ramps, private escort, meet the team.

Is there a Joe Swanson?

Right here!

Meet me at that sad balcony!

Well, here it is.

What do you think?

Wow, Daddy, it's beautiful!

Yeah, it's really great up here.

There's free food, a bar,

and you can drop a plastic spider on a string

- on your friends below. - Really?

Go, Quahog!

I fell trying to lower a spider.

Good afternoon, fans,

and welcome to Minor League Baseball.

I'm your announcer, Johnny "Feedback" Robinson,

here to tell you about all the...

Whoa! Hold on, hold on.

Step back from the mic.

Like this?

Okay?

Now for tonight's starting lineup!

First, your coach,

Frank "Cardiac Arrest" Ross.

And the pitching coach,

Bill "Doesn't Know CPR" McGillicuddy.

Damn it! Where am I gonna get another coach?

I'm on vacation!

Aw, darn. That would've been funny.

Hey, Griffin, you want to be a Minor League Baseball coach?

Seriously?

Heck yeah, I do!

Oh, man, I haven't been this excited

since I met Cool Hand Luke.

Wow. You got a cool hand, Luke.

Yeah, well, he doesn't follow the crowd.

He plays by his own rules, and women respond to that.

Check this out.

"Hey, baby. You're looking fine."

"Mmm. Oh, yeah.

Mmm. Mmm."

Oh, that's hot.

You mind if I get in on that?

"Oh, yeah.

"Mmm.

"Just FYI,

I'm either gonna finish too quick or not at all."

All right, Griffin, that cutaway convinced me

that you are, in fact, sure of this.

Now get down in that dugout and do your job, Coach.

Aw, thanks, Carter!

I won't let you down,

or my name's not Peter "Little Bingo" Griffin.

All right, little bingo. Let's go.

Little bingo here. Not a lot of bingo.

Don't want to play bingo for a long time.

Short game of bingo.

Don't even have to play a little bingo.

Could play a little banjo.

Whoa, this guy knows what he's doing.

I don't know. I'm not convinced yet.

Ducks on the pond, guys, ducks on the pond.

Chewing up bits of bread, pooping in the pond.

Ducks on the pond. Some of 'em brown,

some of 'em prettier... All of 'em ducks.

Ducks on the pond.

I would follow him into hell.

Morning, team.

Peter, do you really have to wear those in the house?

Yes, I do. I'm a baseball coach now.

You knew that when you married me.

Peter, you want some eggs?

I actually brought my own breakfast today, thank you.

Ow. Gross!

What the hell, Dad?

Meg, can I, um...

can I see you in my office, please?

Hey, thanks for coming. Take a seat.

- What's up? - This is...

This is really the toughest part of the business, isn't it?

Oh, my God, are you trading me?

Look, it's nothing personal.

You've been very professional as a family member,

but... here's the thing...

We're sending you down to American Dad.

No! What? No!

Look, they're not excited about it either.

I guess I could call The Orville.

I'll do American Dad.

Okay, boys, this is it. Bottom of the ninth.

We just need a bleep, a bloop, a walk, a balk,

another balk, and, of course, a little bingo.

Let's go!

That's it, boys! Walk-off home run!

Get out there and tear his clothes off!

He just won for us!

Get him!

Yeah! Punch him!

Good! Curb him!

Okay, now pull his shirt over his head

and waterboard him with the Gatorade.

Yes! Cut him with knives!

Good! Burn him with fire! Yes!

Way to go, you!

All this is happening because you did something well.

I'm sorry, Lois.

I, I'm gassed.

What's wrong? You want me to get the wedge?

- What's going on, Coach? - I'm losing it.

Maybe we should call in the kid.

Hey, no problem.

You went eight full minutes.

Bring in the kid!

All right. Bring us home, kid, bring us home.

Little bingo. Ducks on the pond,

furry ducks, little man in a boat.

If you can find it, you're a better man than I am.

I can't believe the Quahog Whooping Scalpers

are actually going to the playoffs this year.

To Coach Griffin!

Hey, thanks, guys.

All right, it's time for me to Oakley-load for tonight's game.

Okay. Forehead Oakleys,

round-the-neck Oakleys,

brim-of-the-cap Oakleys,

back-of-the-head Oakleys,

tucked-into-my-shirt-collar Oakleys,

Everglades fan boat Oakleys,

and Ray-Bans for my eyes,

because Oakleys are terrible.

All right, it's Bucket-O-Shrimp Night,

brought to you by Rocco's Lukewarm Refrigerator Trucks.

Rocco's... We got it there, didn't we?

Hmm.

That child's beach toy full of gray baseball stadium shellfish

isn't sitting right for some reason.

Maybe I should smoke a cigarette for the first time ever.

Okay, not a fix for now

but definitely something I immediately want to keep doing.

Probably best to just add something hot

and acidic to the mix.

Burnt coffee!

Get your burnt, re-microwaved coffee!

I'll take one!

Oh, boy.

Mr. Pewterschmidt, I think I have to go to the bathroom, sir.

Not now. We're about to do the national anthem.

Oh, boy.

It's like Medusa's hair in there.

I can't stop it.

Must... sit in a way...

that pinches my sphincter...

shut.

Oh, my!

Looks like Coach Peter Griffin

is taking a knee during your national anthem.

I'm Canadian.

What is he thinking "aboot"?

What's he doing?

He's not protesting the anthem, is he?

Uh-oh.

Shrimp buckets!

All-you-can-eat shrimp!

Right here, dude.

Good evening, I'm Tom Tucker,

joined tonight by a very special guest,

Channel Five's own Tom Tucker Senior,

who hasn't been on the air since 1964.

Take it away, Dad.

Thanks, Tom.

More and more women are choosing

to work outside the home.

I call them prostitutes...