Hardball

I gotta lock up, son.

You looking for faith? Forgiveness?

I'm looking for the Bulls to cover the spread.

Watch it. Hey.

Conor, Duffy's here. You better have his money.

I got it. I'm gonna have it.

What's the score?

You're into Duffy for at least five grand.

Who gave you an account?

I laid six grand with the Barber to get me even.

Chicago's down by four.

- I got Chicago getting eight. - Less than a minute to go.

Hang on.

Just hang on.

You didn't bet the Barber with my money, did you, O'Neill? You're not that stupid.

Shut up, Duffy, in 18 seconds you'll have your money.

He gets hammered and it goes!

Shit!

Okay, if he makes both, it's eight, I push, I'm even.

Flagrant foul, he shoots that first.

That's bullshit!

If he makes all three, you're screwed.

- - Grab him!

Get off of me!

I'm first, O'Neill!

- You always pay me first! -

You wanna kick my ass?

No one can kick my ass better than I can.

Hey, Conor. It's Ticky!

It's Ticky! It's Ticky!

- - Conor! Yeah. Hey!

Ticky. Did you bring money for the summons?

- What's that? - Did you bring money to get me out?

- Damn, you got zackly's breath. - "Zackly's breath"?

Your breath smells zackly like your ass.

Damn, that's nasty.

Did you pay them? They said it was $580.

- I need the tickets. - Which ones?

You got two pair on the floor for the Bulls-Rockets.

I'm gonna hawk those myself. The game's not till 7:00.

- It's 5:00. Just tell me where they are. - What?

- Shit. - Come on.

They're under the religious statue on my dresser.

Wait, Ticky. You gotta get $1,200.

- Ticky, you gotta pay to get me out! - I already did!

- Yeah? - It's Ticky. Let me in.

Oh, Ticky, thank God. I really need that money.

How much did you get for the tickets?

- - Hey, O'Neill, remember me?

They grabbed me outside the United Center.

- Yeah, you're the Barber's son. - Yeah.

Do you even remember making that phone call from Michael Pistone's wedding?

- Get off of me. - You talked to me.

You said, "This is O'Neill, number 55. What's my limit?"

So I check 55 and I see you got six grand.

So you put that six grand down on Milwaukee, and of course they tank.

So, now I gotta ask my old man about O'Neill on 55,

and guess what he tells me?

He tells me, "That guy died four months ago."

- Look, tell the Barber-- - You bet six grand

on your dead father's account,

- and I need some money right now! - Here, here.

I'll give you everything I got.

All right, that's a start.

Relax.

Forty-seven dollars.

Now, you owe 6,600.

You pay me a grand a week until I say, "Stop."

That's ridiculous. Five-hundred.

Seven-fifty. Bring it to the barber shop.

You don't want me to come back here.

I'm-- I--

They grabbed me outside the United Center!

Excuse me. I'm Conor O'Neill, I got an 11:30 with James Fleming.

Can you lend me...

12 grand?

What, do you need to bury your father again?

What?

- Did you dig the guy up or something? - Are you freakin' sick?

I'm sick?

Four months ago you come in here crying

about how you need $5,000 to bury your old man.

I talked to Mahoney at Mikey's wedding,

it seems he also gave you $5,000 to bury the guy.

I'm gonna pay Mahoney back.

I don't give a shit how much you owe Mahoney.

Jimmy, I'm really up against it right now with Duffy--

And I really don't give a shit how much you owe the bookies.

Conor.

Come back in here.

You know, this...

just might help you.

- Jimmy, this is only 500 bucks. - I know.

You're going to coach a kids' baseball team with me.

No, Jimmy, I don't think you understand how serious my situation is here.

I'm gonna pay you $500 a week for the next ten weeks.

That's week one.

Jimmy, I ain't no good with kids.

Conor, I do this to give something back to the community.

You don't want to do it, give me the check back.

- Okay. - So, I'll see you at the field tomorrow.

3:30.

Where is it?

It's right behind that Baptist church where you used to buy reefer.

No, Jimmy, the only thing behind that church

is those shitty housing projects.

I'll see you tomorrow.

I'm gonna whack this shit to the gate. Don't mess with me. Shit.

Check out Coach Jimmy's whip. Damn, this shit is pimped.

Whoa, guys, don't touch the car.

Yo, Coach Jimmy, here's my extra inhaler,

and here's my Sugar Babies for when my blood needs sugar.

Mom says I do better when my blood's got sugar in it.

What's your name again?

Jefferson Albert Tibbs, Coach Jimmy, but--

Everybody listen! That gentleman behind you is Coach Conor.

He'll be taking over the day-to-day operations.

- What? - That bum guy's our coach?

Coach Conor, just stopped by to give you the equipment.

Jimmy? I can't do this by myself.

Here's your roster, schedule, Sugar Babies, inhaler.

I gotta be in New York three weeks, training seminar. Couldn't be avoided.

Hey. Good luck.

Hey, wait. Jimmy! Wait, Jimmy!

What's wrong with that man?

Wait! How am I gonna get my money?

Every Monday, Ellen will have a check for you.

Gotta go.

- Five-hundred, right? - Every Monday.

- Five-hundred! Every Monday! - You bet. I'll see you.

- Andre Ray Peetes? - What's up, my brother?

What position do you play? - Big Willie.

- Whatever, man.

Back catcher or center field.

I got mad power.

- I pound the shit to the gate, yo. Damn right.

Uh, Miles Pennfield II?

- This dude. - Him.

What position does he play?

He says he can pitch, Coach Conor, but I might pitch too.

- What's your name? - Jefferson Albert Tibbs.

Mom says I can play anywhere.

With my asthma and all, I should probably play first.

I gotta keep my sugar up, too.

You know, Momma said that some boys is plain big-boned.

- And some boys are just plain fat ass. -

Hi. Matt Hyland, head of the Coaches' Committee.

- You the Kekambas? - What?

Are you the Kekambas?

Yeah, bitch, we the Kekambas. So what's up?

Where's James Fleming from Smyth and Stevens Securities?

He's out of town on business. I'm assisting him.

What do you got, six or seven kids?

If you can't field a team, the league will drop you.

I'll tell, uh, Coach Fleming--

This is Darryl Mackey. He's the president of the league.

Last year was a mess.

We had to cancel games because we'd show up

and the other team would have five kids.

Waste of everybody's time.

We're just trying to save everyone a whole lot of trouble, okay?

If you can't field a nine-man team, why don't you and the Kekambas go home?

Talk to Jimmy Fleming at Smyth and Stevens Securities

and submit a roster by Friday.

- Friday. All right. - Friday.

Yo, Coach. Kofi and Ray Ray want to play.

Is that Kofi Evans and Raymont Bennet?

Yeah, Coach. But Miss Wilkes ain't gonna let them play.

Hey, hey. Who's Miss Wilkes?

She teaches at Saint Malachy. She gets on my damn nerves!

- I swear to God! - She's real mean, Coach.

She's an old nasty lady, she tell your moms every little thing.

Do you know she called my house every night last year. Every night.

- She won't let these guys play? - Hell, no.

Coach, she said they couldn't play ball until they do these book reports.

I can tell you Kofi ain't doin' shit.

Ray Ray neither. Them little suckers like, "Bitch, quit that noise."

Hey, hey, hey, can we cool it with the "bitches"?