Relax, all right? Don't try to strike everybody out. Strikeouts are boring! Besides that, they're fascist. Throw some ground balls - it's more democratic. [starts to walk away]
[to himself]
What's this guy know about pitching? If he's so good how come he's been in the minors for the last ten years? If he's so good how come Annie wants me instead of him?
[turns back]
Oh, hey, and another thing, Meat. You don't know shit, all right? If you wanna make it to the bigs, you'll listen to me. Annie only wants you so she can boss you around, got it? So relax! Let's have some fun out here! This game's fun, OK? Fun goddamnit. And don't hold the ball so hard, OK? It's an egg. Hold it like an egg.
[to himself again]
: What's he know about fun? I'm young. I know about fun. An old man. He don't know nothin' about fun.
[behind the plate again]
: All right. Nobody's goin' out there. [Crash calls for a curve ball.]
[to himself]
: Why's he calling for a curve ball? I want to bring heat. Shake him off. Throw what you want.
[Crash gives Nuke the sign for the pitch, Nuke shakes his head again. Crash walks to the mound.]
Why are you shaking me off?
I want to bring the heater. Announce my presence with authority.
My presence with authority.
[in disgust]
To announce your presence with authority?! This guy's a first ball fastball hitter, looking for the heat.
So what? He ain't seen my heat.
All right, Meat. Give him your heat. [He walks back to his place behind the plate.]
Why's he always calling me Meat? I'm the guy driving a Porsche.
[Nuke throws it and the batter hits a home run, hitting the picture of the Durham Bull. The Bull roars and smoke comes from his mouth. The batter stands there, watching.]
What are you doing standing here? I gave you a gift. You stand here showing up my pitcher? Run, dummy.[The batter runs around the bases.]
Give me the ball. [He walks toward the mound.]
