(TECHNO MUSIC PLAYING)
(CRACKLING)
(INTENSE MUSIC PLAYING)
(WHOOSHES)
(GRUNTS)
Strike one, head boy.
Sheesh, what a wussy swing.
HELGA: Okay, move in.
This guy can't hit.
Just you and me, Arnold.
Your old stick
against my brand-new triple-stitched imitation major league baseball.
(INDISTINCT SHOUTING)
(GRUNTS)
Strike two!
Come on, Arnold. Paste it, man!
Ooh, Arnold.
Who do you think you are?
Mickey Kaline, or something?
Yeah, that's right. I'm Mickey Kaline.
(GRUNTS)
(THUMPS)
(TRIUMPHANT INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC PLAYING)
ALL: Wow!
ALL: Wow!
My ball. My ball!
(CRYING) My brand-new ball!
Man, Arnold. That was great!
I just pretended I was Mickey Kaline
and "bam," I hit it.
There's one thing I don't get.
Who's Mickey Kaline?
Who's Mickey Kaline?
You gotta be kidding!
Uh... no?
(SIGHS WEARILY)
Now you've done it, man.
(WHIRRING)
This is Mickey Kaline.
He's my favorite player of all time.
Five hundred and thirty three home runs,
lifetime batting average of 299...
One point below 300.
Mickey married his high-school sweetheart Shirley,
wears a size 13 shoe
and goes by the nickname "Chet."
Mickey Kaline is the greatest baseball player who ever lived.
MAN: Kaline's a bum!
Huh?
What's going on?
Kaline's striking out again.
What else is new?
COMMENTATOR: I'll tell you what. It's a sad thing to see, Jay.
This once-great slugger is now just a mere shadow
of his former self.
Boy, I hate to see Kaline go out like this.
What's he talking about?
Haven't you heard? Mickey Kaline's retiring.
(GASPS)
What?
No way!
Tomorrow is his last game
and the day after that, the team starts to win.
COMMENTATOR: Strike three and the big man goes down swinging.
The world may never see another Mickey Kaline.
You hear that, Gerald?
Tomorrow's Mickey Kaline's last game.
We gotta go.
But how? We don't have any money.
I'll get the money, Gerald.
Somehow, some way. You'll see.
(SOFT INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC PLAYING)
(KNOCKING AT DOOR)
Hey, what's eating you, short man?
Mickey Kaline is retiring.
That old fat guy?
I thought he was dead.
No, Grandpa. He's still alive.
But, tomorrow is his last game,
and I don't have enough money to go.
Say, what about the money you got
from that dog-washing business?
Yeah. I forgot about that.
Man, I hope there's still something left.
I've got enough!
Thanks, Grandpa. You think of everything!
(CHUCKLING)
All it takes to make a kid happy
is an extra five bucks.
Hey, wait a minute!
I had a fifty in here!
Arnold, come back!
So how much have you got?
Enough for a couple of cheap bleacher seats.
I had more, but Grandpa took back his $50 bill.
Hey, as long as I get a nice, big jumbo frank,
maybe some peanuts...
No, Gerald.
All we've got is enough for the tickets.
And maybe one hot dog.
One hot dog? That really bites, man.
MAN: Yo, unless you want some a little cheaper.
Two tickets, half price. Eh?
ARNOLD: Let's see. Section Q.
Section Q.
Excuse me, sir. Can you tell us where our seats are?
(CHUCKLING)
COMMENTATOR: Another solid base hit,
and the score is all knotted up.
How lucky this crowd must feel to be witnessing such an amazing game!
ARNOLD: Can you see anything?
GERALD: Yeah, one of those little dots
is running past one of those other little dots.
(GROWLING)
(THUDDING)
It can't get any worse than this, Gerald.
Did some plaster just fall on my head?
Come on, Arnold. Crack a smile.
You're right, Gerald.
Maybe I can't see Mickey,
but I'm here, and I'm gonna make the best of it.
Peanuts!
That's it. I am out of here.
Where're you going, Arnold?
Down there, to the lower level.
Arnold, wait!
Arnold, if they catch us down here,
they'll throw us out.
I don't care.
I came here to see Mickey Kaline.
And I'm gonna take my chances.
Hey, you kids sittin' in this level?
Come back here, you lousy kid.
Run, Arnold, run! Run, Arnold!
Hey, watch the hair.
(WHIRRING)
(AUDIENCE CLAMORING)
(PANTING)
There he is. Get him!
COMMENTATOR: Next up, number three.
Mickey Kaline!
Well, folks, this is in all likelihood
Mickey Kaline's last at bat.
This is indeed an historic moment.
k*ll the umpire!
(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYING)
(CRACK OF THE BAT)
(INDISTINCT COMMENTARY)
(ALL CHEERING)
COMMENTATOR: And the ball is caught by a little boy with a football-shaped head.
Hey, that's Arnold.
Arnold caught the ball!
COMMENTATOR: Look at that weird little kid run.
(ALL LAUGHING)
Oh, attaboy, Arnold.
That's my grandson.
You got a piece of history there, Arnold.
It's like the Declaration of Independence, or something.
I'll give you $400 for it.
No thanks, Mr. Green.
I'll never let this baby out of my sight.
Now, now, leave him alone.
Let the boy bask in his glory in peace.
Hey, look, it's Kaline.
Mickey, your last at bat in the major leagues and you hit a home run.
How do you feel?
Well, uh, to tell you the truth...
Uh, Fritz, I got real mixed feelings.
I feel great about hitting the home run, but...
Well, baseball has been my whole life and...
I'm gonna miss it a lot.
A whole lot.
(CRYING)
Oh, sorry about that.
It's okay, Mick.
We're back with the out-of- town scores...
(CRYING HYSTERICALLY) Just a minute...
$400.
And all the rump roast you can eat, Arnold.
(INDISTINCT CHATTER)
(KNOCKING AT DOOR)
You okay, Arnold?
Yeah, but I guess I'm kinda mixed up.
Why?
You got to go to your favorite player's last game,
you caught a home run on national television.
What's the problem?
I don't know.
It's just, Mickey's given me so much.
I wish there was some way I could give him something back.
Well, maybe you can.
What do you mean, Grandpa?
I think you know what I mean.
If you need me, I'll have the Packard runnin'.
(CHUCKLING)
(ENCHANTING INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC PLAYING)
Mr. Kaline.
Hey, kid.
Lookin' for an autograph?
Well, not exactly.
Here. It's the home run ball you hit this afternoon.
I thought you might want it.
You know, kid,
since I was 7 years old,
the only thing I ever wanted to do was play baseball.
I loved every minute of it.
From the first time I played catch with my Dad
to the home run I hit this afternoon.
And well...
Thanks, kid.
No, thank you, Mr. Kaline.
Well, I better get home.
My grandpa's waiting for me out in the car.
Hey, kid.
You ever hear of the time I faced Bob Gibson in the World Series
with two down and no men on?
No.
Well, it was a hot day in October,
and Gibson was throwing like a man on fire,
which is pretty much the way he always threw.
(CONTINUES INDISTINCTLY)
(MUSIC PLAYING)