03x20 - Dodgeball City/Space Cadet

[bunniefuu]

[bell rings]

[children cheer]

[screams]

[screams]

[burps]

Might as well hang it up, Lawson.

This Dodgeball court ain't
big enough for the both of us.

You talk like a hero.

You got something to learn
about heroes, LaSalle.

Heroes die!

-Come on, Vince! Don't give up!
-You can do it!

Actually, I calculate his odds of survival

at , to , but go get him!

Get me out of here, Vince!

I'm not cut out for jail!
I can't take it!

Chill out, Mikey.
It's just Dodgeball jail.

OK, boys, lock and load.

Fire!

[thud]

That's got to hurt.

[sniffs] Poor guy. He never had a chance.

You realize, of course, that if we lose
one more game,

we tie the school record
for consecutive bouts of humiliation.

I blame myself.

It's not your fault, Vince.
Dodgeball's a team sport.

We win together, we lose together.

Well, except for the winning.

Hey, guys, how's it going?

A bit more swell now that we've got
smoothies. Join us?

Can't. My mom says I got to practice
my guitar lesson.

Poor guy should have
signed up for a harmonica.

They're a lot easier to lug around.

You know, it's odd. I don't think
I've ever seen Gus play Dodgeball.

No offense, but even if he did play,

do you really think
he'd make any difference?

[gasps]

-It's-- it's El Diablo.
-[lash]

[screams]

Hey, kid, you OK?

I think so. Is he gone?

You mean our pal Gus? Yeah, he's gone.

Gus? Is that what he's going by now?

It is his name, but the question remains:

why did you refer to him as "El Diablo,"

Spanish for "The Devil"?

[sigh] He attended my old school,

or should I say he terrorized it.

Gus? Listen, man, that dance
with the snack cakes

must have rattled your brain.

No, I'm serious. This Gus,
as you call him,

is the most dangerous Dodgeball player
anyone's ever seen.

It was at Jesse James Elementary School
that I first laid eyes on him.

Some say that's where Dodgeball
was invented,

but I don't know about that.

All I know is it was
a tough place to learn,

and El Diablo,
the fastest Dodgeball in the west,

made it that way.

[blows]

[all gasp]

[groaning]

[lash]

It was... horrible.

Gus, the fastest Dodgeball in the west?

You'll forgive us if we doubt
the veracity of your tale.

Believe me. A kid never forgets
the face Of El Diablo.

[lash]

Bravo, Safety Man! Play another one!

Hey, Gus, fancy a*.

Safety Man going to be a rock star.

Yep. I'm going to lick this thing,

or my name isn't Guitar Gus.

You know, Gus, we heard
another nickname for you--

-El Diablo,
-[string breaking]

the fastest hand at Dodgeball
in the history of playground fun.

Sound familiar?

Never heard of him.

Safety Man no play Dodgeball.
Not safe.

Hector's right. I'm just not
a Dodgeball kind of kid.

Oh, OK. Sorry to interrupt your practice.

Man, it's too bad Gus isn't El Diablo.

For just once, I'd love to cream Lawson
and his fifth-grade g*ons.

What makes you sure he's not El Diablo?

Come on. Gus wouldn't lie.

True, but can we say the same
about El Diablo?

[gasps]

Hector, let's play somewhere else.

El Diablo lives.

You want to do what?

You heard me. The entire fourth grade
versus the entire fifth grade

in a mega-Dodgeball duel to the death.

What, you guys actually like
totally completely getting creamed?

We're really serious, Lawson.
We want a rematch.

Yeah, right.

Why don't you boys wait
till your shoulders develop?

What if we make it interesting?

You got my attention.

What if we play for all the marbles?

[all gasp]

All the marbles?

That's right. Every marble
that every fourth

and fifth-grader has on one game--
Winner take all.

Clearies, pearlies, and cat's-eyes?

All the marbles means
every last one of them, Lawson.

[all] Let's do it!

Detweiler, you got yourself a death duel.

Dodgeball, tomorrow, recess.

[cheering]

Man, Teej, I hope you know
what you're doing.

I mean, maybe we should
have asked Gus first.

Hey, he's our buddy.
What's he going to say?

No, I'm not playing.

But, Gus, we need you.

Nothing personal, T.J., but I won't do it.

Find yourself another kid.

But we're friends, fellow fourth-graders.

There's a deep-- a deep--

Almost mystical bond?

Almost mystical bond between us.

Sorry, but I've hung up
my D-balls for good.

Save the drama for your mama, Gus.

We're talking all the marbles here.

Boy, the "F" chord is m*rder.

Gus, this is T.J. talking, man.

I'm not going to beg, but please!
You gotta play!

It is, after all, only marbles.

Only ma-- only ma--

Only marbles?

Hey! Spinelli, don't!

It takes me hours to tune that thing.

Tell me why you won't play, devil boy.

This is your game. You're El Diablo.

No, I used to be El Diablo.

[sighs] I suppose a kid can't run forever.

You see, Dodgeball used to be my life.

I had all the sh*ts--

Sliders, curves, speedies, skippers,

ricochets, faders, and a knuckler

that could leave a kid back a grade.

I was the scourge of the school.

It was sweet,

but I guess I tangoed
too close to the torch.

Maybe I loved the game too much.

Anyway, that's when it happened.

[boy] Mommy!

Poor little kid was so shook up,

he could never go near
the playground again.

Studied during lunch.

I did that to him.

Sorry, but I just can't play.

Will the human tragedy never cease?

Whoa, and to think I almost put

the poor kid's guitar out of tune.

I guess there's only one thing left to do.

You want to what?

Uh, settle?

[laughing]

Hey, it's a good deal, think about it.

Half of all our marbles right now.

You don't have to do anything.
It's risk-free.

Why settle for half
when we can have them all?

OK, %, and that's my final offer.

Forget it, Dingle-Weiler.

The death match goes down as scheduled,

and I got a feeling
it'll be just marble-ous.

Bye, now.

[laughing]

Sorry, boys. Don't have any marbles.

No! No! Not my clearies!

Yay! Play another one, Safety Man!

Ooh. Marble pretty.

[indistinct chatter]

OK, people, the name of the game
is Dodgeball.

I want a vicious, no-holds-barred contest.

No wimps or jellyfish out there.

Winners take all the marbles.

[laugh] If you say so, your highness.

Nice knowing you guys.

See you all on the other side.

It's a good day to die.

[laugh]

The stout one...

I will make him dance.
[evil laugh]

Let's do it.

[whistle blows]

[yelling]

[screaming]

Oh!

[screaming in low motion]

Gus, you've got to do something.

It's a blood bath, a m*ssacre,
a ghastly tableau of bouncy rubber mayhem.

Guess our friends never learned
the "dodge" part of Dodgeball.

You wouldn't happen to know how to make
a "G" seventh chord, would you?

Fiddle on, thoughtless Nero,

as your precious empire
burns all around you.

Hey, where's my little friend Hector?

[gasps] Marble!

Marble!

Hector, no! Go back!

Hey, Lawson, check it out.

Well, what do we got here?

That's got to be the puniest fourth grader
I ever did see.

No, Lawson!

What the--

[Hector] Mommy!

[crying]

Hitting a little kid--

He shouldn't have done that.

[screaming]

That's it! The marbles are ours!

All the fourth graders are in jail!

[Gus] Not quite.

It's him.

Yes, the one they call El Diablo.

[mocking] El Diablo, huh?

Well, now you're going to be el de-loser.

[evil laugh]

Is that so?

[laughing]

OK, you win. The marbles are all yours.

Take them. I don't care.

Please, just don't-- don't--

This one's for Hector.

Bummer.

Wow! That was great, Gus.

Now that El Diablo's back,

we're going to rule this playground
right through six grade!

Yeah. What do you say we challenge
the sixth-graders next?

-Nope.
-[all argue]

Sorry, but my work here is done.

El Diablo's hanging up
his D-balls for good.

[man] They say you can't
judge a book by its cover.

I guess the same is true of a kid.

Even I didn't think Safety Man
had it in him,

but, boy, did he.

Eventually, I stopped
calling him Safety Man

and started calling him Gus.

But in my heart,
he'll always be El Diablo.

[lash]

My hero.

Safety Man!

Come back, Safety Man!

School isn't over yet!

I've got it! I've got it!

Odd. I was convinced I had it.

Throw it home! Throw it home!

[Prickly] Drop that ball!

Miss Grundler, it's happened again--
Another letter!

You get more mail delivered
to my office than I do.

Sorry, Sir, but it is fairly common
to use one's work address for--

[gasp] It's from the National Aeronautics
and Space Administration!

[all] NASA?

No doubt some decals you sent away for.

You just make sure
it doesn't happen again.

What is it, Gretch?

NASA's annual Science Essay Contest.

Out of thousands of entries, they picked
mine as the best of the country.

Man, that must have been one cool essay.

Indeed. It was entitled "Space:

the definitive low-temperature,
zero-gravity, sterile laboratory."

Maybe cool isn't the right word for it.

So, what did you win, Gretchen?

I am not sure, it's kind of confusing.

Let me see. "Due to your insight,

complex, analytical thinking,
and impressive penmanship,

you have been selected to be part

of the next U.S. Space shuttle mission."

Part of the next mission?
But that means...

Gretchen's going to be
the first kid in space.

Wow. Me, the first kid in space.

I wonder what it will be like up there.

Hey, I got a feeling I know exactly
what it's going to be like

being the first kid going up.

[T.J.] After getting shaken up like
a can of pop during blastoff,

it's goodbye, gravity, hello, history.

One giant leap for kidkind.

Whoo-hoo! Look at me!
I'm a crazy floating monkey boy!

[laughing]

You k*ll me, but isn't it time
you told us about our mission?

Our mission-- it's scrapped.

Out with dull science,
in with bold adventure.

But, Sir, our orders--

Blast our orders!
Lieutenant, full power to thrusters.

Hang on to something, people.
We're going to Mars.

Yee-haw!

[all] Whoa!

Yep. I get a big lump in my throat
every time I think about it.

And I've gotten a big lump
in the pit of my stomach.

I'm sorry, guys. I just can't do it.

Can't do it? Gretch, wait up!

Gretche, what are you talking about?

You heard me, T.J. I'm not going up.

But why? It's every kid's dream.

Come on, look at me.

To be an astronaut, you've got
to have the right stuff.

You've got to be tough,
you got to be strong.

NASA has no idea what sort of gangly,

awkward physical specimen
they've selected.

As soon as they see me,
they'll reject me for sure.

Look, Gretchen, my room at home is jammed
with toys and models of NASA spacecraft,

from mercury to the shuttle and beyond.

I've read every kids' book about space,

even one with no pictures.

I know everything
about astronaut training.

And, Gretchen Grundler, I swear to you
as I play and breathe,

when I'm finished training you,
you will be ready for NASA.

You read a book with no pictures?

OK, T.J. Detweiler,
you have yourself a deal.

Well, Gretch, I hope
you had a big breakfast.

Your official pre-astronaut training
is about to begin.

I appreciate this, T.J.

You're really going above and beyond
the call of duty.

No, Gretch, the duty is all yours.

Gus, strap her in.

Astro candidate secured, sir.

-Ready, Gretch?
-Uh, well--

Ground crew, let her rip.

I take it the aim of this

is simulate the effects
of G-forces during launch!

That, plus I want to see how long
you can stick it out up there

before you chirp your chips.

I shouldn't have had that second bowl
of frosted Mini-Winger-Dingers!

Sorry, guys.
That was certainly... unpleasant.

You kidding? That was cool!

You booted worse than Randall
on fish-chowder day.

No shame in it, Gretch.
Happens to every rocket jockey

in the early stages of training.

I don't know I'm feeling a little
light-headed from the spinning.

Maybe we should call it a day.

No way. Real astronauts
never call it a day.

Don't worry, I won't let you fail.

On the other hand, I am going to let you
get off your feet.

Usually when one is off one's feet,
one is sitting or lying down.

Not when one's an astronaut trainee.

At NASA, off your feet means one thing:
simulated weightlessness.

Ground crew, ready for simulation.

Check, training commander Detweiler.

Um, guys, I'm not so sure about this.

Five, four, three, two, one, blastoff!

[screaming]

Gee. Look, I'm peter pan.

Stop fooling around, Grundler.

You're an astronaut,
not a cartoon character.

Yes, of course. Sorry.

Ready for continued
weightlessness training, Sir.

That's the spirit.

OK, begin asteroid-belt simulation test.

Asteroid belt? But, T.J.--

Now!

[screaming] Watch it!

Ow! Playground, we have a problem.

I'm telling you, T.J., the likelihood
of the shuttle encountering the asteroids

is practically nule.

Hey, you have to be ready
for every eventuality.

How about the eventuality of taking a nap?

I'm exhausted.

Uh-huh-huh. You can sleep during
the ticker-tape parade.

Right now we got more training to do.

Gus, the first sample.

Here you go, Gretchen.

A scientifically formulated, advanced,
multi-nutritional food stick,

much like the ones
you'll be eating in space.

[sniffs] Smells suspiciously
like a skinny jitty jerky stick.

Maybe that's because it is?

I'll pass, Gus.
I'm not partial to dried meats.

Why, the nitrates alone--

Nonsense. Just wash it down
with what Vince is mixing up.

-Bottoms up, Gretch.
-What's this?

Zang, official drink of the astronauts.

Curious. I've never heard of it.

That's because I just invented it,

but if you drink it in space,
then it will be official.

See how that works?

Yes, very clever. Am I to understand
that at this stage of training

all I have to do is eat
and drink this... stuff?

Not exactly. Guys?

What is happening?

I'm confused.

You just have to eat that stuff
while hanging upside down.

You know, as if you were up in space.

[sigh]

Well, here goes nothing.

[coughing]

[screams] The Zang is stinging my eyes!

[coughing] All right, that's it!

Gretchen, get back up on that bar.

No, T.J. Enough is enough.

I'm counting to three, Gretchen.

And if you aren't back up on that bar,

I'm resigning my post
as training commander.

I'm not doing it.

-One...
-This is ridiculous.

-Two...
-T.J., are you wagging meat at me?

-Two and a half...
-Stop that!

Well, Gretchen.

Space travel isn't about
drinking stuff upside down

or having asteroids thrown at you

or spinning around until you're nauseated!

Well, it sure isn't about writing
some dumb essay, either!

Uh-oh.

What's that supposed to mean?

You think you're so smart with
your books and your fancy essays.

There's more to space travel than science
and numbers and fancy experiments.

Like what?

Like adventure, exploration and dreams.
The kind of dreams a kid dreams

since before he could hold
that rocket-shaped rattle

his grandpa gave him when he was three.

The kind of dreams he wants so bad

he still puts that rattle
under his pillow every night

so he can feel it when he sleeps.

And if a kid like that had the chance
to get blasted into outer space,

you think he'd give up so easy?

No, I'd never give up!
You understand? Never!

Gee, T.J., I had no idea.

No, I guess you didn't.

I guess no one did.

And so the space shuttle
re-enters the earth's atmosphere,

landing like a giant condor,
ready to be used again--

The ultimate in recyclable space travel.
Any questions?

Miss Grotkey, are we ever going to learn
about reading or math

or animals again?

Now, Philip, how often does one
have a classmate

on the cusp of making history?

-[T.J.] Ha!
-Uhm... T.J.?

Was there something you wanted to say?

No, ma'am. Just expressing
my bitter, cynical opinion

about the space program, that's all.

[Prickly] Attention, everyone.

Please report to the auditorium at once.

Our special guest from NASA
has just arrived,

and he's a real life astronaut.

[murmuring]

It's time for Gretchen's ceremony.
Single file, everyone.

Last one out, close the door.

T.J., I understand if you don't want
to go to the ceremony,

but I just want to tell you
that I, too, have had those dreams.

Dreams of looking up,
seeing billions of stars,

stars seen only
by a handful of human eyes.

But the thing is I never thought I'd have
what it takes to, you know, go up there.

But then you came along,
and, well, you inspired me, T.J.

You made me think I might have
the right stuff after all.

I just wanted you to know that, Teej.

If there was one thing I'd change,

it would be that you could go up first.

[murmuring]

[Prickly] Students, faculty,

please give a warm Third Street welcome

to one of the first men to walk
on the moon: Buzz Aldrin.

[cheering]

I can't believe Teej is going
to miss seeing Buzz Aldrin.

Yes, it really does taint
the proceedings somewhat.

Mr. Aldrin, you're a real hero,
for crying out loud.

I just have one question.

Why do they call you Buzz?

Eh... Isn't there a student
I'm supposed to honor?

Oh, yeah, right. Gretchen,
come up here. Don't dally.

[clapping]

It's a true honor, Mr. Aldrin.

No, the honor's all mine.

I read your essay.

Now, guys, I've been asked by NASA

to present Miss Gretchen Grundler
With this commemorative medallion.

[exclamations]

Is it some sort of token
for getting on the space shuttle?

-Beg pardon?
-You know,

for my grand-prize flight on the shuttle.

Do I drop it in some sort of slot
to enter the craft perhaps?

To enter the craft?

Gretchen, there must be
some sort of mistake.

That shiny medallion is your grand prize.

[all gasp]

You mean I'm not going into space?

I'm sorry, but, no.

[muttering]

NASA can't send you into space, Gretchen.

It takes years of training and hard work,

and you're... just a kid.

[T.J.] Just a kid?

I'm sorry, Mr. Aldrin, Sir,

but you can't call
my friend Gretchen just a kid.

Prickly, who is this boy?

T.J. Detweiler, Sir.

She may not be able to guzzle
Zang while hanging upside down.

And she may not be able to hold down
her frosted Mini-Winger-Dingers

while pulling a couple G's...

Few of us can, son.

But, Sir, she's got the soul
of an astronaut,

and I think you'd agree
it's the soul that counts.

[all murmuring]

I'd like to help you out,
I really would,

but the fact is NASA's not ready
to send a kid into outer space.

Maybe someday, but not now.

Besides, they had to take out three seats

just to accommodate
those experiments of hers.

And without those seats--

Excuse me, Mr. Aldrin, Sir.

Did you say experiments?

Didn't they put anything in that letter?

Three of the experiments
you suggested were so good,

NASA decided to try them out
on the next flight.

So that's what they meant by you
being part of the next mission.

Gretchen, you really are
going into outer space.

My ideas, anyway.

[cheering]

Mr. Aldrin, if I may ask,

would there be room
in the shuttle for, say,

one small beloved baseball cap?

[man] Five, four, three, two...

and there goes space shuttle Atlantis.

There goes a great American's hat.

And a great friend's big old brains.