1. Batting Practice

I love to swing the bat.

I can’t help it, I just love it,

always have… always.

Wow… that is one good-looking lady.

I could see myself with her,

maybe five years from now,

little house in the suburbs,

grilling steak out in the backyard,

playing catch with the kids.

Do people stay faithful in New York?

I wish I knew.

I wish I knew what to do.

I mean, I could sit around the hospital,

’til they give dad the news.

But what good is that gonna do?

If I stay here,

at least he can see me on TV,

maybe watch me hit a homer.

We can’t afford to lose two in a row.

Every game counts…

man, every inning, every pitch.

Look at that sky.

Can I put in my order for a clear, sunny day?

No, not very likely.

Mom says, “Go to work, don’t worry.”

Don’t worry?

Some day, I’m gonna have a kid,

just like that one,

brings his glove to the game,

hoping to catch a foul tip.

And I‘m gonna be as good to him

as my dad was to me.

I can’t believe I was as small as that.

2. Catching

What the hell was that?

That’s the best pitch you’ve got?

Jesus Christ, that was practically up to his gut.

Concentrate. Concentrate. Con-cen-trate.

I can’t stand impulsive people.

I want you to gimme a slider.

Not like the last one: a slider.

One that drops. Like it’s supposed to.

Don’t shake me off.

Lord help us and save us,

if I wanted a curve ball,

I’d ask for a curve ball.

Trust me.

I’m tired of hearing I’m doing it wrong:

“He’s too big.” “He’s too slow.”

“He doesn’t know what pitches to call.”

I know what this game is all about,

I’ve been working hard.

I’ve seen this guy, he can’t hit ’em low.

All we need now is a nice, low slider,

that’s all you have to do.

Yeah, he knows it’s coming,

yeah, he’s waiting for it.

But you can get it past him,

if you just keep it low,

I know you can do it.

3. Rain Delay

It’s no fun getting beat up —

my knees are killing me,

my elbow is throbbing,

my fingers are numb.

Every time I get hit like that,

it takes another year off my life.

Maybe I should be a weatherman:

rain, turning to… rain, followed by… rain.

How long is this gonna last?

I can’t believe they’re paying me

a million bucks to sit on this bench,

a million bucks could feed some country

for like two years.

How is me hitting a baseball

gonna make a difference to anyone?

My father prayed every day

that I would be a baseball player…

and here I am.

What choice do I got?

Please God, I’m not asking for a hit,

I know that would be wrong.

Pride is a sin.

But could you give me a chance?

I swear, I’ll turn this game around.

I know a guy oughtta pray all the time,

and I don’t.

I know you’re too busy to pay attention

to a stupid baseball game.

But maybe I could make

these fifty thousand people a little happier.

Or maybe I’m just wasting your time.

Maybe there’s some other lesson

I’m supposed to learn.

4. At Bat

Knowledge. Timing. Luck.

Come on! Get your mind on the game!

This is your moment, your time.

Breathe. Watch. Think.

That’s three curves in row,

inside low, inside high, inside low.

Give me another one,

I’ll knock it out of the park.

Knowledge. Timing. Luck.

What I want is a big, meaty fastball,

but I don’t think I’m gonna get it — 

no, I know I’m not gonna get it.

That’s okay.

Another curve will do me fine.

I can hit a curve as good as anybody:

All those nights with dad in the batting cage,

when my hands were freezing cold,

I still kept hitting. For him.

Jesus, I didn’t even say thanks.

What if I don’t get the chance?

[He calls time out.]

What am I doing here?

Dad is watching,

he knows what I’m thinking.

He’s saying,

“Kiddo, forget about me,

get your head in the game.

Hit that ball,

show me what you’re made of.”

You can’t know what’s gonna happen,

all you can do is do your best.

And pray.

[He resumes play.]

Knowledge. Timing. Luck.

That’s all it takes.

The game is a game,

it goes on,

and I’m ready.

5. Postgame Interview

You always ask yourself,

“What could I have done differently?” 

There’s plenty I could tell you — 

there was a curve in the third

that I really should’ve hit,

there was that slider in the sixth

that I should’ve stopped.

But sometimes the game

doesn’t go your way,

there’s things you can’t control:

We worked hard, and today,

that’s as good as we could do.

Sure, I wish

I could’ve walked to the mound

after that last out, 

knowing I called all the right pitches,

knowing I left an imprint on the game.

I don‘t know if I can say that today.

Ask me again tomorrow.

Sometimes, I think

the only thing that keeps me going

is coffee and Advil.

But the rest of the team,

they’re feeling strong.

And they’re still thinking on their feet,

you know?

Mentally, the season beats the hell out of you,

it’s like the feeling you get after

running a marathon,

but doing it everyday.

It takes a toll.

So you learn, you gotta completely

minimize your mistakes. 

We haven’t been doing that,

but we can,

if we work hard,

from now through October,

because the World Series is for people who are doing,

not for people who think they’re due.

Yeah, thanks… 

Honestly, we really don’t know

what’s gonna happen to him,

nobody does.

But we’re getting some tests back.

I’m going over there now,

take my mom out for some supper.

He keeps saying,

he’s gonna see me in the Series,

and I want to believe him.

The bottom line is,

whatever else happens,

I gotta keep playing.

I’ve worked too hard to get here.

I know this can be gone

as easily as it comes.