Simon Birch

Mr. Roberts.

I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice.

Not because of his voice or because he was...

The smallest person I ever knew...

Or even because he was the instrument of my mother's death,

But because he is the reason I believe in God.

What Faith I have, I owe to Simon birch,

The boy I grew up with in Gravestown, Maine.

It is Simon that made me a believer.

Hi, Mr. Roberts!

I'm gonna leave you alone with your thoughts now.

And when I come back we'll talk about...

What we've just read.

Silently and seriously,

that's how I want you to think.

Our Sunday school teacher was an unhappy woman...

By the name of Miss Leavey.

Her name suited her perfectly, as she was always leaving class.

He's so cute.

Simon birch was so tiny that we loved to pick him up.

Hey, put me down.

In truth, we couldn't resist picking him up.

We thought it was a Miracle how little he weighed.

Cut it out, you assholes.

Hey, no tickling.

I'm warning you.

Pass him to me!

Simon birch?

Down!

I never understood Miss Leavey's reaction.

Did she think Simon climbed up there on his own?

Or that leaving us alone with our thoughts had so empowered us that...

Simon was levitating up to Heaven?

But Simon was no rat. As vividly as any story in the bible,

Simon showed us what a martyr was.

Simon birch was the smallest delivery...

Every recorded in the history of Gravestown Memorial Hospital.

Okay, Mrs. Birch...

The nurse is gonna give you a shot here to help with the pain...

And then we'll get started. Okay.

Gesundheit!

Ooh! Ooh! Doctor!

Oh-oh, dear.

Oh.

Simon's father owned the birch granite company.

Mr. Birch was a big believer in the rock.

And just about everything in their house was made from granite,

including Mr. Birch.

Eh...

Excuse us, please. Excuse us.

Excuse us, please. Heh!

Along with just about everything else...

Simon was born with an undersized heart.

The prognosis wasn't good, and Dr. Wells warned...

The birches that Simon probably wouldn't last through the night.

Fit-fit right there in the palm of my hand.

But he did.

Still, the complication seemed too great, and Dr. Wells warned...

The birches that Simon probably wouldn't last through the week.

But he did.

The birches didn't know what to make of their peculiar, little disappointment.

So they made nothing of it at all.

I'm going to work.

Weeks turned into months.

And months turned into years.

Come on, we're late.

No, you're late. I'm just riding with you.

The doctors proclaimed Simon a Miracle.

And he was quick to remind any of us if we forgot.

Not so fast. Slow down.

I'm a Miracle, you know. Yeah. Yeah.

But even miracles can't go on forever.

And although we never talked about it, it was never far from our minds.

Here they come,

The Wentworth bastard and his granite mouse.

Hey, birch, nice sidecar. What you use? A matchbox?

Have a nice day.

Goddamn kids got no respect these days.

Autumn day friends, and so sit back, relax...

And so let "big daddy" Dave Barton do the driving...

As we cruise on down the highway of hits here on wgv...

The sound of Gravestown.

Let's click on the turnstiles of our wax files.

This one goes out to our Gravestown Tigers.

baseball is a lot like life for a 12-year-old.

You spent most of your time waiting for the excitement to begin...

Only to discover later that it's already past you by.

Think out there, boys. Okay? When you're out there, think!

I was just thinking. Yeah?

Last year we played in the squirt league, right? Uh-huh.

And this year we're in the peewees. So?

Do they want us to play baseball or urinate?

Anyway, I was just thinking.

My mom got pregnant during her senior year at high school.

The fact that she refused to divulge my father's identity...

Upgraded it to a full-fledged scandal. Hi, Joe!

Hi, Miss Wentworth.

Hi, Simon.

How's my little doll?

Your mother has the best breasts of all the mothers.

Yeah. And she smells the best too.

I know. She's so sexy that...

Sometimes I forget she's someone's mother.

Okay! Okay! I was just being honest.

Well, what if I said the same thing about your mother?

I'd have you committed.

Nobody knew her secret. Not even me.

And I wouldn't know it to this day, if it wasn't for Simon birch. Ooh!

Birch, on deck.

Go get 'em, Simon.

You go, Simon. You'll be wonderful.

Simon loved baseball.

I'm not sure why.

He rarely got to play and when he did, he was ordered not to swing.

His strike zone was minuscule.

Holy shit!

Ha! Look at this kid.

- It's the friggin' hobbit. - Nah, it's Thumbelina.

- You're both wrong. It's a pinch-hitting munchkin. - Okay, all right.

- Let's play ball. - Do your thing, Simon.

- Show 'em how it's done. - Okay, foster, he's yours.

0-1. Good eye, birch.

- Good eye, son. - - foster, easy.

You don't need your fastball on this guy.

- 0-2. - All right. Lay it in easy, now.

I'm trying. Shit!

- Zero, three. - That was great!

Way to watch. Thank you, Miss Wentworth.

All right. Let's go foster, buddy. Right in there, buddy.

- Ball four! - Shit!

Take your base.

- Whoa! - Take a look at that!

Be waiting for you next time.

Your head's bigger than your strike zone, pal.

Pitchers always threatened to hit Simon, but it rarely happened.

I think they were afraid of killing him.

Hi! How's it going?

Oh, man, that's cold. It's freezing.

My balls just turned into bbs.

Time me. Simon!

Please! Why does it matter how long...

You can hold your breath? I don't know. It just does.

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi.

Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi.

Joe.

Hi, Joe! Hi, ann.

Hi, Marjorie! What are you guys up to?

No good. Where's Simon?

He's around.

He's so adorable. Like a little doll.

Time! Time! Time!

- Thirty Mississippi. - Thirty Mississippi?

Thirty Mississippi? I counted 34 Mississippi.

You know, why do you have me count it if you are just gonna count yourself?

I want a verification.

when did they get here?

About 14 Mississippi. Marjorie's got breasts.

- Yeah. - And soon they'll be boobs.

- I know. - Maybe she'll let us touch them sometime,

- If we paid her. - Why don't you ask her?

Oh, uh, Marjorie? Stop it! Stop it!

Uh, Simon has a question for you.

- What is it, Simon? - Nothing. Good-bye.

He wants to know, uh, maybe if he paid you...

Could he touch your bre...

He wants to know if he could touch your bre... quiet! Okay?

He wants to know if...

He wants to know... He just wants to know how...

I think Marjorie likes you. She likes you.