The Goldbergs

Ah, baseball. America's pastime.

Growing up, my brother Barry was one of those kids

whose dream was to take the mound at Veterans Stadium.

And then, one day, he got an actual shot

to become a Philadelphia Philly,

thanks to one of the greatest gimmicks of the '80s, the radio call-in contest.

Angelo Cataldi here with the opportunity of a lifetime,

the 100th caller throws out the first pitch at the Phillies game.

Lucky, Adam, thank you for joining me.

Today, Big Tasty wins the most coveted prize in AM radio.

You do realize these are virtually impossible to win, right?

Not when you invented a top-secret formula

that guarantees me to be the 100th caller.

Seriously

Two words, math matics.

Just hit caller 85. So close.

It's 1.7 seconds per call,

so if I multiply the amount of callers by the rate of calls,

then I dial them up in exactly...

Dial right now! Don't wait another second!

37 minutes. Yeah, that's not right.

Just hit caller 90.

You should call right now!

You dare question my Texas Instruments?

It's from Texas. That's where NASA is, bro!

Caller 95! Get off your ass and call!

Now we just sit and wait, Lucky.

Congrats. You're the 100th caller.

What? That's impossible!

What's your name, and where you from?

Adam Goldberg. I'm from Jenkintown.

Oh, no.

This is amazing. I've literally never won anything.

What the hell are you doing?

Yeah, I'll hold.

Just stole your stupid baseball pitch.

You can't, dude!

This pitch is an opportunity of a lifetime!How?

'Cause once the Phillies see my flamethrower,

they'll give me a brand-new Mustang as a signing bonus.

Aw, that's a shame, 'cause instead, you get to watch me.

Please, I'll give you anything you want.Go on.

A Rubik's Cube with all the stickers taken off

so you always win. No.

A leaf that looks like a boob.Nope.

This incredibly stretched-out Coke bottle

filled with colored sand. Nah.

A limited-edition butt mug. Pass.

Super Madball Touchdown Terror football.Uh-uh.

This awesome drawing I made of a leopard.Do better.

My prized Kathy Ireland poster

personally autographed to me.

You misspelled "Kathy."

Final offer,

whenever Mom tries to snuggle you in any way,

I will act as a human shield to protect.

Now that I'll take.

Ha, sucker. Oh, yeah?

Hey, Mama. Those vanilla-chunk cookies smell amazing.

You know what else is an amazing vanilla chunk?

You.

Not on my watch.

Barry, no. This neck nuzzle is for Adam.

Well, you have no choice but to nuzzle my neck instead.

Well, that's an unexpected win-win.

Ah! Don't doubt yourself, Barry. Do it for the Phillies.

This is so worth it.

This really is!

It was May 2nd, 1980-something,

and Erica was showing her best friend, Lainey,

around the greatest place on Earth.

Seriously, college is the best.

My classes are, like, so interesting.

Mine, too. I'm always like, "I did not know that."

I love the parties and meeting smart people

and living with my roommate, who is awesome.

Tell me about it.

I love my roommate, The Raven.

The what? It's her Wiccan name.

She's so cool and artsy and chain smokes

and flicks the ashes at me while I sleep.

Yeah, she doesn't sound great.

That's 'cause she's not! She's horrible and scary!

And I hate her and everything else at college.

Well, thank God. Me too!

Really? Yes!

I only said that college is the best

because you seemed really positive about it.

Oh, no. Fashion school was such a mistake.

I like buying clothes and the wearing them part,

but making my own stuff sucks 'cause I have to do the sewing.

You know what's worse?

I came here to play music,

but all they make me do is read these big,

boring textbooks about it.

You could sue. For sure!

I'm not a lawyer, but I have a real case here.

God, I miss high school so much.

You and me, singing in my room,

dreaming of being stars.

We were so young last year.

Such a happy time.

Honestly, I wish we could just forget about college,

start a band, and have fun again.

Then let's do it. Do what?

Lainey, we're adults now.

We can do whatever the hell we want.

Yeah, I don't think I can just blow off school to start a band.

I have a mid-term project due next week.

So? I have a music theory final tomorrow

and I haven't even cracked open this giant book.

Is this really happening?

Are we blowing off school to become a rock 'n' roll super

We'll be like Joan Jett meets The Bangles.

Meets Madonna. Obviously!

All we need now is a kick-ass lady drummer.

Ooh, that's gonna be hard to find.

I'll do it. Wait, really?

I thought you were an Art History major.

My stupid mom forced me to take marching band in middle school.

So you still play?

No, but I air-drum to Genesis,

like, all the time and I'm, like, sick at it.

Okay, we got our drummer! It's fate!

Seriously, what are the chances you end up with a roommate

who likes the idea of drumming?

This literally can't fail.

Dude, look at her go!

That probably sounds amazing.

And so, my sister happily threw away her college education.

Meanwhile, my dad was about to learn

that Barry was one throw away from baseball glory.

Father! In preparation for my pitch at the Vet,

it is essential I have a top-of-the-line radar gun

that clocks my explosive fastball.

How are you throwing out the first pitch at a Phillies game?

W.I.P. call-in contest.

My boy's throwing out the first pitch?

Here, take my card. Buy whatever you need.

I cannot wait to show Mike Schmidt

the nasty aspirin tablet I fire-hose in there!

You only have one chance to dazzle the Phillies with your arm. Am I right?

That's what I was thinking

'cause there is a world where they see my bazooka

and I immediately get a contract and uniform.

65,000 people at the Vet

are gonna see that flamethrower of yours.

I'm sorry. I was just deturding some shrimp

and I couldn't help but overhear.

65,000 people?

This is the opportunity of a lifetime.

My boy's gonna make the Goldberg name proud.

I won't let you down, Dad. I'm gonna bring the thunder.

I cannot believe you're gonna be standing

on the same grass with Mike Schmidt.

It's too much!

"Same grass"? We're gonna be on the same team.

Can you imagine sharing a locker room with Schmidty?

I'll grow a sweet mustache to match his

and then we'll date twin weather girls.

Promise me you'll grow a 'stache. Promise!

Murray, are you sure about this?

You know how Barry caves under the slightest pressure.

I played baseball in high school. Barry's got this.

That makes no sense!

One thing has nothing to do with the other.

Every day, my moron kids come in here

asking me for money for the dumbest of dreams.

Finally, I found one I can get behind.

But you don't actually believe

that Barry will be scouted onto the Phillies.

Of course not, but you never know.

So you do think so? Not a chance!

Unless it happens.

Okay, kind of giving me mixed signals here.

Listen to my words.

I know Barry will never play for the Phillies,

although crazier things have happened.

For the first time ever,

my mom was doubting one of her precious children.

As for Erica, she was certain of her rock 'n' roll destiny.

A-one, two. A-one, two, three, four.

That's sounded awesome, guys!

That's, like, a totally tight intro.

What a crazy-productive first day.

I mean, we decided on our look.

Super-feminine but tough.

And our band name, "The Tangles."

It, like, captures who we are, but also doesn't, at all.

Now all that's left is the easy part,

writing a totally original hit song

that changes rock 'n' roll forever.

Actually, I've been working on a little riff.Let's hear it.

Keep going. I think I got something.

Within seconds, The Tangles stumbled upon an epic hit.

But in their excitement, no one realized

how shockingly similar it was to a little song written by Joan Jett.

I have chills!

Oh, my God. Am I crazy, or is this a hit song?

Oh, my God. You are not crazy. It's bad-ass...