Brockmire

Things are getting worse in America, friends.

Even in my old home of baseball,

the infidels are invading the holy land, y'all.

Jim Brockmire, paid by George Soros

in the deep-state conspiracy to frame me,

he's out there calling games.

And who is he doing it with?

I'll tell you.

A black homosexual woman

who's never even played real baseball.

Meanwhile, my statue in Atlanta

gets taken down in the middle of the night.

It's enough to make you want to despair for the future.

But, all right, it's opening day,

the time where hope springs eternal.

I get it.

But if y'all are as unhappy as I am,

then I urge you to show up to games today

and let the powers that be know we won't back down.

We will keep baseball pure.

And after that, America. By any means necessary.

- Friends. - Come on.

Your need for attention is not my problem, Randy.

Okay? Let's go.

You're not supposed

- to honk your horn, Mom. - I'm not allowing

- You've been warned. - my day to get hijacked,

and this is my only form of protest.

Can we move it along?

What are you watching?

- Art Newlie. - What?

He's taking down the hypocrisy

of the mainstream media.

Define hypocrisy.

- Exactly. - What?

I don't want you watching...

Kyle, what's on your face?

Are you eating my donuts?

Those were for A.A., Kyle!

Damn. Okay.

Listen to Mommy.

Mommy gets them addicted to sugar and caffeine

instead of drugs and alcohol.

Right? That's how I help them.

So I need the donuts, otherwise they don't come.

And if they don't come,

then they wrap their cars around telephone poles.

You understand what I mean?

You see... Shit. Shit, shit!

Get a bag, baby. Get a bag. Baby, get a...

No!

All right, yep.

Mommy's purse is a bag.

Very good listening, honey.

I'm real proud of you.

Move your ass!

Oh, my god.

My afternoon's free

if you want to try for round three.

I think you mean round two, don't you?

You don't remember that time in the middle of the night?

No... oh, no. I'm a sleep fucker.

No, I do some of my best dick work

in a dream state.

Huh.

I just thought you were doing very specific

tugboat role play.

No, that'd be weird.

Yeah. I'll see you after the game.

Good luck in Tampa.

You guys are going to kill it.

Bye, Gabs!

Bye, Sauce Bitch!

Well, I have not felt this good since...

ever.

I'm finally in a healthy adult relationship.

It's opening day.

God it's my favorite day of the year.

And my nightmare about ramming a tugboat

into the Panama Canal

finally makes a whole lot more sense.

I mean, everything is coming up Brockmire over here.

Oh, hold that thought.

Maggie probably forgot something.

Hey...

Jean.

You come back... you came back to forgive me?

My goodness, and on my first day back in the bigs.

And I thought this day couldn't get any better!

Yeah, well, it's about to get a hell of a lot worse.

I haven't forgiven you.

And I couldn't give a shit about your comeback.

Gabby reached out and asked me to come down.

Tomorrow I asked you to come,

because I said today was a very big day for both of us.

Yeah, but tomorrow's not good for me.

It's grad night at Disney World,

and I would rather not be surrounded

by a bunch of teenagers fingering each other

on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride.

Bad news is, I have to go by myself.

Sam couldn't get the time off work,

and Norm won't go back

because he was traumatized at the Haunted Mansion

on account of his sensitivity to the paranormal.

What the hell are you talking about?

- What is going on? - All right.

I guess we're doing this now.

Uh, Jim,

there's something that you need to hear.

And I thought having Jean here would soften the blow.

Did Mom die?

Oh, no, are you dying?

Oh, shit. I'm dying.

No, dumbass.

Jules is engaged.

- What? - Yeah, she, uh,

made it Instagram official yesterday.

Oh, my god.

How did you see this?

I follow her.

At first I was just curious

'cause you were always going on about her,

but now I really like what she does.

Right? She's like the Busy Phillips of baseball.

Jules and George Brett are getting married.

My goodness.

Well,

Jean, I know you don't forgive me, but

flying all the way here to help break this news...

that, uh, that means a lot.

I'm still mad at you,

but your sobriety is important to me.

Every time your shit hits the fan,

you get on a mic,

fling it back out at the rest of us,

and go on a bender.

I don't want that to happen.

So please, don't do anything crazy.

Well, would you looky here?

It's the weird spot where we first kissed;

where it all began for both of us.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing?

Get your hand out of your pocket.

Put your hands where I can see 'em!

Maggie, I realize it's not fair

to ask you to move to Oakland

without some kind of a commitment.

Move to Oakland?

Jim...

You literally know nothing about me

except for what my vagina tastes like.

Well, at this point in your cycle

with the Moon waning like it is,

- it tastes... - No, no, no, no, no.

I don't actually want to know.

No, that would make me self-conscious.

Well, it shouldn't,

because I want to taste it for the rest of my life.

Jeez Louise!

That is much bigger than I expected.

Yeah, it turns out not having a cocaine problem

is just a great way to save money.

Maggie, I know I know we haven't

known each other long, but...

I feel that what we have is just so special.

What's my middle name?

Now, that is a stumper,

considering I don't even know your last name.

What is your last name?

Okay.

- You can get up. - Oh, really?

- Yeah. - Okay.

I know why you're doing this.

- I follow Jules on Instagram. - No, no, no, no, no.

At first, it was just some light stalking

to convince myself that she was terrible, but...

then it just made me feel better that I was with someone

who dated someone that cool.

Well, is she... why is she cool? Seriously?

Because she's engaged to a baseball legend

and she travels around the country

putting on special events at.

Well, actually, I can see why this is all

pretty good on Instagram. I can.

I've had a really good time, but that's all this is.

I don't want anything more.

I'm actually leaving Florida,

- in a little while. - What?

Yeah, Matt the Bat left me all

of his frequent flyer miles when he died.

We used to talk about how I really wanted to go to Japan.

So I'm flying there in a couple of weeks.

And then from there, who knows?

He left you his miles?

All I got was to hold his hand when he died

and some expired Dunkaroos.

I'm sorry, it was not my plan to do this

before your first game back.

- Are you going to be okay? - Yeah. Sure.