(Inside Cleveland’s visiting clubhouse.)
GENE LAMONT: Yup.
LEYLAND: Theysaidwecouldn’tdoit. They (hack) saidwe’dblowit. Wesureshowed’em. Anothersweep.
LEYLAND: Theseboysareloose (wheeze) andnothingcanstopusnow.
/door flies open
LEYLAND: Jesus, David. Who’shere? (urp)
DOMBROWSKI: You know who, Jim. HIM! I don’t know why here’s here, but he’s HERE, DAMMIT! He’s gonna destroy the mood of the locker room, I know it! He’s crazy, I tell you!
LEYLAND: Calmdown, calmdown. Who, dammit? Ni? TheBaller? Sheffield? Gibby? Someotherdumbstereotypecharacterfromthisblog?
/door suddenly opens
ILITCH: How’s everyone doing? My Marion said the pool boy told her we’re in first place! I hopped right on Little Caesar One and here I am! Hot damn! Why didn’t you tell me we were doing so well, Dan?
DOMBROWSKI: It’s Dave, sir.
ILITCH: Right. When do the playoffs start?
DOMBROWSKI: In about a month, sir. And we haven’t made it quite yet. Please don’t do anything to disrupt the locker room…
ILITCH: Are you crazy? Why would I do something like that? I just want to congratulate these boys! I hear they swept the Indians! I thought we killed off the Indians years ago! Savage creatures, they are. Hot damn! I wanna let them know they’re appreciated! Why, I was talking to Tris Speaker, oh, a week or so ago and he told me we’d win a Super Bowl with this team some day!
DOMBROWSKI: Sir, why don’t we go up to the suite they have for management? We’ll even get you a Yoo Hoo. I know you love Yoo Hoo, sir.
ILITCH: Nonsense, Darryl! Let’s go talk to the boys! Did I ever tell you how I played in the minors in the 50’s?
DOMBROWSKI: Several times, sir.
ILITCH: Then you should know that I’m a baseball expert. I’ve forgotten more about this game than you’ll ever know, that’s for sure. I can help these boys be a success like me! Let’s go!
DOMBROWSKI: Oh, dear. We can’t stop him…let’s just get it over with.
/in locker room
DOMBROWSKI: Attention, gentlemen! Mr. Ilitch has flown to Cleveland to congratulate you all on your recent success. He’s extremely proud of all…
ILITCH: Enough of that, Duane. Gentlemen! Please, turn that hippity hop music down….thank you. I’m just so happy that my baseball Red Wing franchise is playing so well. Each one of you holds a place in my heart. Oh, what’s your name, son?
Will Rhymes, Mr. Ilitch.
ILITCH: Aren’t you adorable. How old are you?
RHYMES: Twenty-eight, sir.
ILITCH: Oh, hohohoho…of COURSE you are! I tell you what, sonny. I need to talk to the ball players right now. If you go fetch me a Yoo Hoo, I’ll give you a whole quarter! And we’ll even let you run the bases after the game on Sunday! How about that?
RHYMES: Um, sir?
DOMBROWSKI: You heard him, Rhymes. Please do what Mr. Ilitch says!
ILITCH: And you…aren’t you my gardener? You’re in Cleveland? No wonder my shrubbery looks like hell. Listen, Paco, I can have you on the next boat back to whatever God-forsaken hellhole you come from if you keep messing around on me? You hear me?
DOMBROWSKI: Mr. Ilitch, that’s Miguel Cabrera. Our first baseman. He’s the best hitter in the game today and the cornerstone of the Tigers.
ILITCH: Oh. Of course, Dexter. So silly of me. The resemblance is uncanny, however. He’s a big one. We should put him on the Lions. Do I own the Lions?
DOMBROWSKI: No, sir.
ILITCH: I see. And you! What’s your name?
DOMBROWSKI: That’s Don Kelly, sir. He’s a super utility player, a nice man, and one of the hardest working players on the team. Please don’t…
ILITCH: Don Kelly, huh? Never heard of him. Well, Mr. Kelly…how are things treating you?
ILITCH: Oh, a religious fellow. That’s nice. Never was a religious man, myself. In fact, the only times I spoke to God was when I was getting sick or giving the business to Marion, if you get my drift.
DOMBROWSKI: Sir! Please!
ILITCH: Quiet, Daniel. You can always tell a religious man…but you can’t tell him much. Hohoho…a word of advice, son. I know two things about God. One, I’m not Him. And two, He doesn’t give a darn about baseball. Otherwise, why would the Yankees still be around? Oh, hohohoho…
DOMBROWSKI: Please, sir! You’re being offensive to Donnie.
ILITCH: Oh, I’m sorry. Did I offend you, son?
KELLY: (whispers something about turning the other cheek and trying his best)
ILITCH: Wonderful. And I know who this guy is! Hello, Brandon! Great to see you!
ILITCH: Indeed it is! Actually, I’m surprised to see you here. I figured you’d have been cut by now.
INGE: Well, they tried. Ha ha.
ILITCH: I’m sure. Now tell me, gentlemen. I’m willing to admit that I’m terrible with faces and names sometimes. Is there anyone here that I haven’t personally met before?
/David Pauley raises hand.
ILITCH: No one?
/Pauley waves hand back and forth
ILITCH: Good! Now I played a bit of ball in my day. And between us men, I know what it’s like. I know the women LOVE ballplayers. Tell me, who’s the um, biggest poon hound on this team? Hohoho…
/entire team looks at Rick Porcello
ILITCH: Of course! Look at that face! Son, a word of advice. Now these days, my Marion’s dry enough to chap a bird’s beak, unless the pool boys is cleaning the swimming pond, for some reason. But in my day, I was quite the philanderer. But two minutes of pleasure is NOT worth a lifetime of hardship. I’ve got seven children. Most of them, well I think my life would have better if they’d have ended up running down Marion’s leg instead of inside her womb. They’re all just waiting for me to die, you know? Too bad I'm gonna live forever! Money talks! So wrap that rascal, okay, son? Wrap it good. We didn’t have the rubbers in my day. And does our insurance plan cover abortions, Douglas?
DOMBROWSKI: Dave. And no, sir. They don’t. We really should be getting up to the suite…
ILITCH: Calm down, Dale. Calm down. I’m enjoying this. Where’s the fellow that had the beard before coming here? Damon, I believe?
DOMBROWSKI: He doesn’t play with us anymore, sir. He plays for Tampa Bay.
ILITCH: Oh, no. He was quite the charmer. And Tampa Bay? Good lord, that’s a minor league outfit, is it not? What a shame. His wife was a piece of ass. Hohohoho…and look at this fellow! Oh, dear! Do you mind me asking how long you have left?
ILITCH: Yes, son. Your neck. You obviously have several tumors. Such a shame in one so young. You know, I’ve had several tumors in my lifetime. In fact, Darren here’s the biggest of them all! Hohohoho…
DOMBROWSKI: It’s Dave, sir. And we really must be going. Jim’s got to, uh, have his postgame meeting with the players. And we can’t be here. It’s, um, a league rule.
ILITCH: Fine, fine. But let me say this, gentlemen. Marion, myself, the kids, and the pool boy that Marion insists stay in the house are very proud of you all. And I tell you what. If you win whatever the baseball Stanley Cup is for us, we’ll give EACH of you your own Hot ‘n’ Ready pizza! How about that?
LEYLAND: Gethimthefuckoutofhere, Dave.
DOMBROWSKI: Let’s go, sir. Please.
ILITCH: Okay, okay. And David. The fellow in the corner staring at me like I’m crazy? Release him. Immediately. If he doesn’t have the professionalism to shave like a gentleman, I don’t want him representing our club.
DOMBROWSKI: Justin Verlander, sir?
ILITCH: Doesn’t ring a bell. But if you say so. I don’t know what this team would do without me sometimes.
/door opens a crack
RHYMES: Here’s your Yoo Hoo, sir!
ILITCH: Thank you! Thank you, son. Maybe when you grow up, you can play for me one day. Dean, get the players to sign a ball for this boy. He’s a nice kid.
DOMBROWSKI: If you say so, sir. Let’s go.
ILITCH: Goodbye, team! Do your best and there’ll be a nice $50 bonus for EACH of you this year!
LEYLAND: (lights cigarette) Ihatethisteam.