Beer League

And so DeVanzo stands in.

Six foot first baseman out of Pawtucket.

Fine form on this fellow.

Shot down the line.

That's a frozen rope.

Base hit in anybody's league.

And here's Captain Jeter steps up to the plate to his usual hip-hop music.

And look at the triceps on this youngster.

Someone was busy in the Nautilus room during the off-season.

He'll give the fans a treat and do a little flexing.

That's right. There're a couple of actresses on the front row...

that are going out of their minds right about now.

Yeah!

And sometimes he'll get in there and just give the fans a treat...

and show them some of the finer points of hitting.

Fuck!

Absolute perfect ten on this fellow.

Quite a specimen.

385 hitter, 23 ding-dongs. He's driven in 162 runs.

He's 30 sit-ups away from the body of a young Willie Mays!

And that's a single up in the middle.

Looked more like a double play to me, you fat fuck.

What the fuck did you say?

I said softball's for girls and faggots...

and girl faggots like you.

You piece of shit!

Mom!

The fat fuck new door is chasing me again!

Anybody had seen my softball hat?

- Michael? - Yeah.

- Did you look at these cakes, yet? - Yeah, yeah. I like that one.

Hey, Marie, Marie, get the hat! Gina, get the hat!

- You didn't even look? - Marie, that's not funny!

Okay, you know what? I'm not being a bitch here.

You're missing Marie's recital tonight...

and I said we could wait for after the softball season to go on our honeymoon.

I even let you pick your scumbag friend Artie as best man.

Sweetheart, listen, it's the first game of the season.

I just don't want to be late, alright?

I'm with you on the cake. So I'll look at them later.

You know, I was gonna surprise you...

by making your little plastic man on the cake...

a Derek Jeter action figure.

But now, no.

I'm making you one of those Puerto Ricans from the fucking Mets.

Don't even joke like that, Gina!

- I'm coming back tomorrow for tanning. - You better.

Hey! Mark Vicki Galliotta down as paid up for this month.

And another dumb slut gets herpes.

Hey! I don't want any of you Italians drinking out of my water bottle!

Damn Wops.

- Come on, Maz, let's warm up already. - Don't mess with my pre-game ritual.

Putting on mascara is not a pre-game ritual.

- Let's go! - Stop busting my chops, I'm coming.

- Hey, guys. - Hey.

What's up, brother? Check it out.

- My new Italiano mitt. - That's cool, Alfonse.

How much of a Guido can you possibly be?

Fuck you, Johnny. I'll see you out there.

- What's up? - Starting earlier this year?

Ready for the big day, opening day, big game?

Maz, we stink every year. This is not a big game.

- Yes, it is. - It's not a big game.

Yes, it is. I blew off my daughter's ballet recital for this.

I've seen your daughter dance. She sucks.

- No, she doesn't. - Yeah, she does.

- Which one, ballet or tap? - It all sucks.

- What's up, boys? - What's up, Manganelli?

So, Maz, how's the wedding coming? Are you nervous?

I'm doing okay. Gina's freaking out a little, but...

My cousin is a good kid, but she can be a real ball-breaker.

What are you going to do?

All right, listen up.

Anybody who doesn't do a pre-game shout with me right now is a fucking pussy.

Jerk off!

Did this jerk off just call me a jerk off?

Come on, let's not ruin another game with a big fight, all right?

Dave!

Arto.

Fellows.

Dad, I'm thirsty. Can I have some?

No. Go steal that little kid's soda.

Bro, look at yourself. You're an unemployed drunk...

you play softball in corduroy and you still live with your mother.

You shave your body hair, wear Speedos down the short...

and root for the Dallas Cowboys.

Hey, that's America's team, asshole.

Not in Jersey, asshole.

We grew up fifteen minutes from Giant Stadium...

you're a fucking Cowboys' fan?

You're just jealous.

My softball team won this league for years in a row...

going on five.

This year you're not getting that trophy.

No? Who's going to stop me, you?

In high school, I was the best baseball player.

You were second best.

I was the best football player. You were second best.

And, bro, the chicks I got...

were way out of your league.

I did fine. You fucked skanks.

Skanks?

You're looking at the first guy to bang Jan Martucci.

Wow, definitely not a skank.

I'm sorry.

- Lisa Riccio. - Monica Nelson.

- Danielle Battaglia. - Marisa Salvanto.

- Karen Dever. - Tina Gardner.

- Karen Dever. - Pinky Calabr...

You just said Karen Dever.

Well, we did more than once.

Okay, I guess we're done here, bro.

Because you're out of names, and I got like fifty more.

I see you on the field, loser.

Yeah, go ahead. Run away, jerk off.

Run away!

Bring it in!

Now coming to bat is Artie DeVanzo.

Last season was a fine one for DeVanzo, we all know that.

- Come on, Artie. - He batted. 420 with 45 RBls.

- Come on, Artie. - Batter up!

He enters today’s game...

with a blood alcohol content of 0.16.

If you kids are scoring at home, that's an impressive mice the legal limit.

- Let's get it go, buddy! - The DeVanzo shift!

What do you say, Art?

- Let's go, Artie. - Let's go, Arto. Let's go!

What's this shit, Manganelli?

It's my new defense strategy.

All right side is open for you, Artie. Go for it, bro.

All right, go the other way with it, Artie.

He's tying to fool you, don't be stupid. Come on!

- Come on, Artie! - Let's go, baby!

Come on now!

Shit!

So, of course, he pulls it.

Hey, the shift works good, Manganelli.

- Run, Artie, run! - Artie, run! Run, man!

- Come on, Artie! - Get it over there!

Out!

Nice hustle, Artie.

You're a fat fucking disgrace!

He's a fat guy.

Come on, Dirt. Start it off, kid. Come on now.

All right, Dirt. Come on, Dirt.

Lay it in there, baby. Come on, Dirt. Let's go!

What do you say, Dirt? You character.

All right, Dirt. Come on now.

- Shit! - Jesus Christ!

You disappoint me as much as my kids for Christ's sake.

Okay, here we go!

Here we go, coming home.

Come on, get it in. Get it in!

Hit the cut-off man!

Yeah!

Cut-off man!

Cut-off man!

Learn to love him.

- You're killing us! - The hell are you doing?

One second! I'm having a smoke. What's up your ass?

- I got it! - Shit.

Cocky prick!

He's tagging!

No, Dave, don't go!

Hold on!

Come on!

Nice play.

- Good job. - You're out.

Good job.

Come on, let's see it, Dirt. Let's see it, Dirt.

Fuck, no pitch.

Hey, Tim, I want to let you know...

I've done a lot of thinking about that talk we had last year.

I don't even know if you remember.

I remember. When I overheard you telling that joke at the bar, right?

Exactly.

You know, if we weren't good friends...

I would've handled that quite differently, right?

Hey, look, just so you know, I don't even use the "N" word anymore.

Like just now, instead of saying the actual word, I just say the "N" word.

I appreciate that, Artie. That's a good start.

Good for you, man.

That's okay, Dave. Keep swinging.

As a matter of fact, listen how I tell this joke now.

A priest, a Rabin and a "N" word walk into a bar...

All right, hold up, hold up, hold up!

Strike three, you're out!

- That was... - That's three.

Come on! Let's get these guy!

Let's get these punk! He's nothing!

He's an asshole!

A cocksucker! He's a total piece of shit!

You shut up, fatso.

- Hey, watch the name-calling! - Come on, Dirt. Let's go now!

Pop up!

- You got it! - You got it!

- Jesus Christ! - Shit!

I'm not angry. Just give me the ball.

You son of a bitch!

Come on, guys. Let's go.