02x02 - Field of Pete

[bunniefuu]

BIG PETE:
The seasons of the year...
they come and go.

Continents drift,
ice caps melt,

entire species disappear.

Everything is always
changing on this planet,

everything
but the game I love--

baseball.

Unfortunately,
my love of the game

had never translated
into a winning record.

But all that was about
to change.

This year I was playing
for a new manager,

Mr. Ed Narrens.

To him,

losing was unknown.

Imperfection?
Unacceptable.

Just win.

The only words he lived by.

Double zero,
that's a two-base error.

Get in here and wash my car!

BIG PETE:
He wasn't an easy manager
to play for, but I didn't care.

After years of being
on losing teams,

I was beginning
to feel like a loser myself.

But with Coach Narrens
to guide me,

I knew I could turn it around.

I knew I could be...

a winner.

Number Five,
that is an error!

Subtitle Rip: uNCeNSoReD

? Hey, smilin' strange ?

? You're lookin'
happily deranged ?

? Can you settle to sh**t me ?

? Or have you picked
your target yet? ?

? Hey, Sandy ?

? Ay-yi-yi-yi ?

? Does your dog bite? ?

? Ay-yi-yi-yi ?

? Hey, Sandy ?

? Ay-yi-yi-yi ?
? Hey, Sandy ?

? Does your dog bite? ?
? Ay-yi-yi-yi ?

? Hey, Sandy ?

? Ay-yi-yi-yi ?

? Hey, Sandy ?

? Does your dog bite? ?

? Ay-yi-yi-yi ?

? Hey, Sandy, hey. ?

They say the world is divided
into two kinds of people,

winners and losers.

But how do you know
what you are?

How do you know if you're
destined to go through life

with this branded
on your forehead,

or if you're destined
for greater things?

I found out
in our very first game,

when we took on
the dreaded Bacon Barn.

For some reason, Mr. Narrens
never left his car,

but it didn't affect
his precision coaching.

He'd analyze the variables,
make the right adjustments,

and we did the rest.

You're out!

BIG PETE:
Winning felt better

than anything I could
have dreamed of.

It tasted better, too.

The Slush Shack had a deal
with the league.

( players shouting )
In exchange
for their billboard,

they gave away free slushies

to the winners
of all the games.

We were in slushy paradise.

And since Ellen
had a summer job

as apprentice to Slush Master
Bob Oppenheimer,

every game we won
was another excuse to see her.

Ellen, hi.

Hey, Pete,
how's it going?
We won!

Believe it or not,
you're looking at a winner.

Congratulations.
( snaps fingers )

Just don't start
acting like one, okay?

You've got a deal.

Hey, slush girl, large
lime Balthazar, now.

Oh, pardon me, I believe
I wanted a grape Judas.

Hey, listen, I
was first. Come on.

Raspberry...
Hey, hey, hey.

Pardon me.
( clamoring voices )

Come on, man.
Get out of here.

NARRENS:
Excuse me.

( players gasping )

An Orange Lazarus,
if you please.

Mr. Narrens, I've made it
very clear in the past

that the Orange Lazarus
is not included

in the free slush agreement.

I'm very sorry.

Slush money.

An Orange Lazarus?

How come it's not
on the menu?

It shouldn't even be
on this Earth.

Long ago I created
the Orange Lazarus

looking for beauty
and perfection,

and what did I get?

A hedonistic nectar
of greed and power.

It looks good.

It is evil.

It's too tempting.
It's too delicious.

It's too cold.

You think you drink it? Mm-mm.

No, it drinks you.

A drink from the chalice
of victory, brave warriors.

Orange Lazarus for everyone!

TEAM:
Yeah!

What about the brain freeze?

BIG PETE:
If consumed too quickly,
the super cold Lazarus

could shut down
your central nervous system

in 1.2 seconds,

resulting in a condition
known as the brain freeze.

( slurping )

Mr. Narrens didn't care.

In fact, the only time
he seemed to be truly happy

was when he was alone
with his Lazarus.

Some say he needed

the sub-Arctic cold
of the Lazarus

to replenish the ice water
that flowed through his veins.

I didn't care
why he slurped it down.

All that mattered was

we kept winning and winning
and winning.

And then one day, our winning
streak sputtered to a stop.

( hiccups )

It started when Teddy's parents

made him get
a precautionary flu sh*t

just in case he caught a chill

sitting on the bench
during night games.

The tiny bit
of the virus in the vaccine

made Teddy a carrier.

( slurping )

( sneezing )

Before long,
half the team was infected,

and those that remained
were no Murderers Row.

Throw to third!

We got stomped
in five straight games.

With each defeat, I felt

Safe!
the loser insignia

forming on my forehead.

Puny humans.

I will make you proud
of me, Lazarus.

Narrens, however, wasn't a man
to take defeat lying down.

So, the mighty Narrens set off
in search of a player

who could turn
our whole season around.

I didn't have much hope,

but by our next game,
he unveiled a secret w*apon

unlike any
baseball had ever seen.

Willie Mays' offensive w*apon
was his fence-clearing power.

Ted Williams' offensive w*apon
was his textbook swing.

But Coach Narrens'
new offensive w*apon

was the most
offensive of them all.

LITTLE PETE:
Hey, batter, batter, batter.

Hey, sebaceous,
bloody sputum-eater!

Strike three! You're out.

My brother, Pete,
was the Ty Cobb of trash talk.

It was Narrens'
most brilliant move.

As long as he kept
the free Lazari flowing,

Pete promised he would keep
his foul mouth foaming.

Hey, batter, batter,
batter, batter.

Hey, batter, sa-wing,
batter, you...

pus-drunk, spurting
maggot-batter!

Strike three!

When it was our turn to bat,
the pitcher became Pete's meat.

We want a pitcher, not
a brief-staining chum jockey!

( crowd yelling )

UMPIRE:
Ball four.

( cheering )

All right, Pete,
you did it.

And just like that, the dreaded
loser curse had been lifted.

As the regular season rolled on,

our team slashed
and b*rned its way

to the top of the standings,
thanks to Pete's heat-seeking,

nitro-breathing,
radar-guided trash talk.

You scrape the legs off the dung
beetles to ice your cupcakes!

Strike three.

When insults failed,

Pete could strike fear
in the heart of a player,

just hinting at
an embarrassment from his past.

Hey, uh-huh, lather
machine, huh?

Woo-woo-woo,
ingenious!

Strike three! Game!

I should have been happy.

Mr. Narrens sure was.

Brain freeze.

( players shouting )
I wished I could
freeze my brain, too,

so I could somehow numb away
the painful feeling

that winning the Narrens way
was destroying baseball.

( groans )

( pounding on counter )

Hey!

What's the matter?

We won.

You don't look
too happy.

I don't know
what's wrong with me.

If-if Narrens were here, he'd...

Orange Lazarus, Miss.

Um... sorry,
we're closed.

I'm sorry, Narrens.

I created
the Lazarus

for good,
not for this.

It is good, Bob.

Good and frosty.

So make me one... now.

Mr. Narrens,
could I talk to you?

It's about the way
we've been winning games.

It doesn't
feel right.

It doesn't feel
like baseball.

Oh, is that so? Well...

thanks for the update,
Number Five.

Because up till now,

I thought everything
you knew about baseball

you learned from me.

You...

You weren't even clay.

You were like,
like a handful of silt.

but I took that silt and I
molded it into my image--

the image of a winner.

I made you what you are,

and you turned on me.

Forgive him, Lazarus.

Mr. Narrens?

Just win, baby.

BIG PETE:
They were three words

about to be carved
into baseball's tombstone.

It was one of those
perfect summer days

that baseball was invented for.

Thanks to Mr. Narrens and Pete,

we were one out away from being
in the championship game.

All I had to do was learn
to live by a simple creed,

which I kept repeating
like a prayer.

Just win, baby.

Just win... baby.

I almost believed it...

until the game came down
to one final batter,

my friend, Bill Korn.

Pete, can't you do something
about your little brother?

Sorry, Bill.

I just hope you don't
have any secrets.

( heart b*ating )

The word was out that Pete
had something on Bill

that was so embarrassing,

his family might have
to move to another state

and change their name.

Come on!

k*ll me! Do it!

I can't take it anymore.

All right, I ate snot once!

It was at the candy counter
at the movie theater.

I thought it was imitation
butter-flavor topping.

There, are you happy?

It was all too much.

( cheering )

Seeing Bill
annihilated like that

just to get
into the championships,

watching Teddy turn
into a Lazarus-lapping jerk.

Prosthetics take no prisoners!

Hey, hey, son!

Slow down on that!

Buzz off,
Slushenheimer.

( sighs )

I knew what I had to do.

Pete, you got to
cut the trash talk.

It's not baseball.

What do you mean?

I don't know how
to explain it,

but every game we played was
like a hundred little games.

Some we won and
some we lost.

Calling a pitch out
on a two-and-oh count,

breaking up a double play,

blocking the plate.

If they didn't
add up to a win,

then we weren't
good enough,

but that's baseball.

Don't you get it?

I get this.

If you try to stop me,
I'll make sure everyone

knows why Mom
won't let you buy lard anymore.

Brain freeze alert!

The Lazarus, Oppenheimer's
once-noble experiment

had claimed another victim.

I've become Slush Master,
destroyer of brains.

It wasn't fair.

All I'd ever
dreamed of was winning.

Finally I was getting
what I wanted,

only I didn't want it anymore.

Not this way.

Baseball deserved better, but
what could I do to save it?

Then, that's when I saw it.
( heavenly choir singing )

A sign from above.

For too long the undulating evil

of the Lazarus had
made baseball its sl*ve.

I could free it,
but I'd need some help.

Mr. Oppenheimer, no!

There's got to be another way!

Lazarus has stolen
his last soul.

Get out of the way, Ellen.

Don't do it!

Hey, Pete.

What are you
doing here?

The championship's today.

Mr. Oppenheimer--
listen to me.

You created the Lazarus
for good, didn't you?

I wanted world peace.

Well, I can't
help you with that,

but together,
we can stop Narrens

and save baseball.

How?

Just bring 20 gallons
of Lazarus

to the championship game
and I'll show you.

Please, it's our only hope.

Regular? Or extra frosty?

As cold as you
can make it.

That meant cranking the Lazarus
into a realm of frostiness

no slush had ever gone before.

It's madness.

So be it.

BIG PETE:
It was the biggest game
of my life--

the league championship.

The kind of game
that's supposed to

bring out the best in a player.

In my brother Pete's case,
it just brought out his worst.

LITTLE PETE:
And that, my friend,

is the way you turn
a colt into a gelding.

( car alarm blaring )

( machine whirring )

It's gaining potency.

( coughing )

BIG PETE:
By the third inning,
I was starting to get worried.

Pete had the other team
so psyched out

that even seemingly ordinary
words were causing damage.

Medulla oblongata.

Strike three!

Where were they?

What is the meaning of this?

Orange Lazarus for everyone.

Why wait 'til
after the game, Coach?

It's a lock, right?

Number Five,
that's bad sportsmanship.

However...

an empty chalice
is a lonely chalice.

You've learned well,
Number Five.

That's just what we need.

Drink up, Prosthetics.

What's the problem here?

Play ball.

Oh, come on,
drink up, everybody.

Gee, it's a hot one.

( chuckles )

It's a trick.

You try it first.

It's-It's good.

Cold.

Come on, we've got
a championship to win.

( squeaking slurps )

It began low in the brain stem

then climbed its way
to the cerebral cortex

where it leapfrogged
to the frontal lobe,

freezer-burning
every neuron in its path.

( screams )

Within 1.2 seconds,

the Lazarus had worked
its frosty magic

with a 50-megaton brain freeze.
( players groaning )

Oh, no!

( groaning )

Fine champions.

( groaning )

Ah...!

( shuddering moans )

( laughing )

Ow.

Oh.

Come on.

Oh...

Oh.

I said, "Play ball!"

BIG PETE:
My plan wasn't
to throw the game,

it was to try
and even the score.

With Pete's head
in an icy vise,

his powers were disabled.

PLAYER:
Go, go, go, go, go...

Lincoln quickly clawed itself
back into the game.

Finally, with two outs
in the bottom of the ninth...

Safe!

...Lincoln tied the score

and the brain freeze wore off.

Mind-lapping, blimp drain...

blood wart!

If we were gonna play
real baseball...

Time!
All right!

...I had to move fast.

Okay, we can b*at

these guys.

But if we want
to be real champs,

it's got to be us, not him.

We got to do it with baseball
and not trash talking.

What do you say?

Yeah!
Yeah!

We don't need you.

I always knew you were
a loser, Number Five,

but this is treason.

Take him out.

Go ahead, do it.

It's funny,

how a little
spoonful of lard

can be so expl*sive!

Just remember,
if you destroy me,

you destroy baseball,
the game I love.

Don't tell me
you're a loser, too.

Am I the only one who
cares about winning?

Gravy boat.

Elementary...

backstroke.

( chuckles nervously )

What are you talking about?

Maybe we should ask
the squeegee salesman.

That...

won't be necessary.

Come, my frosty friend,
our chariot awaits.

Lazarus will rise again,
Slush Master!

It is over, Narrens,
and you know it.

Don't listen to him.

( sighs )

Play ball!

BIG PETE:
With Narrens banished
from the kingdom of baseball,

we were free to play the game

the way it was
meant to be played--

where the fate of two teams

hangs not on the things
that you say,

but on the things that you do.

( dramatic music playing )

( cheering )

( thud )

Safe!

We lost the championship
that day,

but for some reason,
I didn't feel like a failure.

There you are, nice and safe.

Losers.

( tires squeal )

As for Mr. Narrens,
no one ever saw him again.

I heard he just kept driving
until the Lazarus ran out.

As for me and Pete,
we were on the same side again.

I guess you could say
that together,

we saved the game of baseball
that day.

Maybe next year I wouldn't
make it onto a winning team.

Then again, maybe that's not
what it takes to be a winner.