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(THE NATURAL THEME PLAYING)
Oh.
(GRUNTS)
How many times must we go over this?
You cannot get the refrigerator door
all the way open before the light comes on.
So that's why you called us here, Al?
No, I signed us up for the Northside Kickball Classic
this weekend, and Xela is sponsoring our team!
What's Shayla?
Uh, Xela's my store. (NASAL VOICE) Duh.
Uh, no, not... (NASAL VOICE) "Uh, duh."
(NORMAL VOICE) X-E-L-A spells Shayla?
I didn't even know you could pronounce the name of your store.
I thought it was a four-letter Celtic symbol for failure.
(ALL LAUGHING)
Stop. Come on. Guys, it'll be fun.
Plus it's great advertising. I mean, a couple years ago,
that bakery for dogs sponsored a team,
and it really helped their business.
Until the recession hit, and they realized it's a bakery for dogs.
Wait. They closed All Dogs Go To Evan's Bakery?
Well, we have a really busy weekend, Al.
I'm getting my hair done, and my book club is doing a brunch crawl.
I will be observing the live birth of a baby calf.
I know it might sound stupid, but I started going to church.
Guys, this could be our last chance to do
something like this all together.
I mean, next year, Brad and Jane could have a baby.
BOTH: Aw. No.
Dave's truck could go out of business.
Who knows if he'll even stay in Chicago?
(WHISPERS) Why would I leave Chicago?
Max could be dead or presumed missing...
Or presumed dead.
And Penny'll probably be going through a divorce. (CHUCKLES)
(GASPS) Thank you.
You bet. So come on. Please! Please.
Oh, I'm getting a call. Sorry. Hello?
It's Pretty Please.
Come on.
Let me talk to her. (RAISED VOICE) Hello!
(CHUCKLES)
(NORMAL VOICE) Hey, Pretty Please.
No, you're cute. (CHUCKLES) Girl, what you up to?
Oh, still asking people to play kickball?
Okay. (CHUCKLES)
Guys, this *** is like a dog with a bone. I think we gotta play.
Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Let's just, for one time,
let the little blondie have it. Let's play.
Yeah? I'm so excited. (CHUCKLES)
All right. All right. If you guys want me to be
the lovable but gruff player-manager...
Nobody wants you to be that.
Then we are gonna have to talk about my salary.
Now I am willing to work for, at minimum, league maximum,
'cause there is no way you are getting max for the minimum.
There'll be warm beer in the dugout.
Okay, you throw in a lifetime of memories
that I can cherish for now and always,
and you got yourself a manager.
Guys, look what I found for the big game.
My old eye black. Take that, sun.
I've got nature's eye black right hea.
Melanin, baby. That's what makes me brown.
Dave, I gotta talk to you for a second.
As the team's self-appointed player-manager,
I gotta let you know, I'm dropping you down to the six-hole, champ.
I'm kicking sixth? That's last.
I should be kicking cleanup.
Have you forgotten that my enormous right foot
is a half-size bigger than my left?
(WHISPERS) Size 8, ***.
No one is questioning your freakish deer feet, Dave.
It's just...
You haven't been the same since the incident.
(SIGHS)
(CROWD CHEERING)
PENNY: Oh!
You went 0-for-33 after that. Something happened up here,
and you haven't been able to kick since.
You got a bad case of the yips, howmie.
Like when Chuck Knoblauch couldn't throw the ball to first base,
or like when *** Chung tried to have fun the following night.
Yeah. Yips don't lie, howmie.
You got hella yips, howmie.
I'm over that. That was a long time ago, howmies.
(WHISPERING) Whoa. Dave. Dave. Racist.
Face it. You're prone to the yips.
Remember when you forgot the words to Gangsta's Paradise?
To this day, you still can't perform a eulogy.
Look, you shouldn't be worrying about me.
You should be worrying about you. All you do is bunt.
(CHUCKLES) You're damn right, I do.
I love a big bunt, all right?
I play kick-money-ball, and I get on base every time.
It's all about numbers, baby,
and the numbers say I'm kickin' 1000.
No one calls you that.
Well, nobody calls me "the guy who defuses tense situations
"with unexpected compliments,"
but that doesn't mean it's not true.
By the way, Dave, have your fingers lost weight?
Thank you for noticing.
Damn, man, they're lean and mean...
Especially for a guy with the yips.
(BRAD AND MAX WHINING)
DAVE: Yeah, all right. You know what? It's ridiculous.
(CONTINUES WHINING)
(BOTH LAUGHING)
You can't get the yips in kickball.
Oh, yeah?
David... Then kick this.
What? Wait. Max! That's a bowling ball!
♪ Y-Yips ♪
BRAD AND MAX: ♪ Y-Y-Y-Yip ♪
I'm actually getting pumped for kickball.
It is a great place to meet guys.
Last year, my friend Corey collided at home plate
with this really cute catcher.
I mean, she still can't see colors,
and he has a titanium knee...
(SINGSONGY) But they're getting married!
So kewt.
Jane, what's wrong with your car?
Oh, routine maintenance, boring car stuff, intake manifold, whatnot...
Hey, Jane. First game's at 10:00 tomorrow.
(BOTH GASP)
Good on you for hyphenating.
Wait. You're playing kickball for their team?
I'm sorry. I signed up with them months ago,
and when I commit to something, I stay committed.
What about that Guatemalan kid
you stopped sponsoring after a month?
When I send $25, I expect a letter, Adolfo.
Okay. Come on. Quit them. Join us. It'll be fun.
Oh. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
You see, I like to win, so I'm taking my talents
to Southside Kaz's Auto Body Shop.
That is cold-blooded, leblonde Jane.
This is typical ruthless Jane,
just like when we were kids and you stole my spot
on Babu the Green Monkey Funky Hour.
And the last little poacher to get to join us
for the Babu boogie... Alex Kerkovich!
Yay! Aw.
Oh, Jane, I wish we both could have won.
Yeah. Me, too. Oh, well.
(GRUNTS)
Here I am! It's me, Alex!
Let's boogie!
I remember that,
when you took your prize trip to Wave World
and you contracted that flesh-eating strep bacteria.
That should have been my flesh-eating strep bacteria,
but you know what? It's all good, Jane.
You play for your Auto Body Team,
but Team Xela is gonna have fun, and we're gonna win!
Oh, silly Alex.
(WHISPERS) Wins are for winners.
(GASPS)
So, are you in a bad mood now,
or can we still go try on wigs?
Hmm.
(THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER PLAYING OVER P.A.)
MAN: Play ball!
(AMPLIFIED VOICE) Hello, Chicago,
and welcome to the first day of the annual Northside Kickball Classic.
I am Duckie Blankenship.
Fun fact... Two teenagers locked me in that porta-potty last year.
I've seen it all, folks. Duckie has seen it all.
All right, everybody. This is what we're gonna do.
We're gonna start off with some light stretching.
That will be following by some heavy losing,
which will then be followed by some even heavier drinking.
Come on, Max. I think we could win this whole damn thing.
(SPITS)
Al, I got my right fielder in 6-inch heels.
(CHUCKLES) My kickball shoes make me look like a lesbian.
I got this guy over here. I can't tell if he's practicing his kicking
or gently nudging that thing to make sure it's still alive.
(CHUCKLES)
My third baseman's priorities are way out of whack.
Which eye black should I choose,
Ebony Heat or Midnight Storm?
Face it. Jane was the only good player on this team,
and she crap-damn bailed on us.
Look at that traitor. I hate her,
with those long, lithe legs just sticking out
those teeny, tiny shorts she got on, just teasin'.
I'm gonna hate her, like, five times tonight.
(MOUTH FULL) Got it.
Well, at least we got Scotty.
(MOTOR RUMBLING)
(MOTOR SHUTS OFF)
(PANTING) Hey, guys. Sorry I'm late.
I was gettin' juiced up. Mango and orange.
Also doin' steroids.
(SNIFFS) Mmm. For my thyroid condition.
(CLEARS THROAT) And for strength,
'cause of my weak spine...
(LOWERED VOICE) 'Cause I did too many steroids.
(NORMAL VOICE) Ooh. Sunflower seeds.
Ugh.
(GRUNTS)
DUCKIE: Bottom of the fifth and team, uh...
I don't know how to say this, folks...
Excel-a? Is two outs away from being knocked out
in the first round, much like I got knocked out
by that teenage girl when I politely asked her
if her dog could quit biting my hands.
(SIGHS)
DUCKIE OVER P.A.: Here's the pitch...
Aah!
Time out.
Oh! Another swing and a miss, and that is strike two!
What's going on, Dave?
You're 0-for-4. You've left seven men on base.
(SIGHS) This pitcher's got my number, man.
(SIGHS)
What did we talk about, huh? Visualization.
You see the ball. You kick the ball.
MAX AND DAVE: You see the ball. You kick the ball.
See the ball. Kick the ball.
Rose steps back in after a pep talk.
The pitch...
(CROWD GROANS)
Come on!
Grab some bench!
And team Cee-Lo is down to their final out.
Well, we had a good run.
Actually, we had no runs. Where are we getting pizza?
Amici's. I overheard in the men's room
that's where everyone's going.
That was me in the men's room. I love Amici's!
(GASPS)
Max, you're the manager. You're supposed to inspire.
Figure it out!
And, Brad, I still haven't heard anyone chant "Bunt Cake" yet.
But they could.
Penny, you came here to meet guys.
I don't see no ring on that fingah.
(GASPS)
Dave, you can still get over your yips.
We've got one out left, and we are gonna win this because we're a team!
Shut up!
I'm gonna go out there, and I'm gonna start a rally!
Come on!
DUCKIE: Alex Kerkovich at the plate. The pitch...
(GRUNTS)
DUCKIE: Cuts deep to left!
It's out of here! Say goodbye!
Unbelievable, folks!
A gigantic home run from a child-sized woman!
(CHEERING CONTINUES)
Very impressive for a chubby!
Dave Rose.
He's terrible!
And Penny Hartz.
(CHEERING)
And Team Zazu wins! Wow, what a comeback!
Aah!
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!
Yeah!
PENNY: We rock!
We might not suck!
(LES TOREADORS PLAYING)
(GRUNTS)
(INDISTINCT)
Oh!
(SCREAMS)
Left leg, right leg, left leg...
(GRUNTS) Come on!
(CHEERS)
And Team Zazu wins 11-to-5,
and they're just one win away from the championship game!
That was so amazing today!
Yep. I managed a hell of a game out there.
Okay, game ball time. Here we go. Bring it in.
And the game ball goes to Max
for managing a hell of a game out there today.
Oh, looky, looky.
It's Jane-A-Dict Arnold.
(IMITATES NEWMAN FROM SEINFELD) Hello, Jane.
Hello, Newman.
(NORMAL VOICE) I don't know if you heard,
but we got game... Kickball game!
Looks like we're meeting Kaz's Auto Body in the semifinals...
The kickball semifinals.
♪ Classic battle
♪ Good versus evil, Bulls versus Pistons
♪ My Aunt Michelle versus Hepatitis B ♪
And we got moves you don't even know about.
I know your one moves... Ya bunt.
They call me "Bunt Cake."
(LOWERED VOICE) Oh, no.
Anyway, you're only as good as your weakest link.
I'm talking about yipsy-ki-yay mother failure over there. (CHUCKLES)
(STRAINED VOICE) See the ball. Kick the ball.
See the kick. Kick the Penny.
No, David!
Oh! Good luck with that.
Yeah. Don't worry about my team, Jane, all right,
(DEEP VOICE) Yeah.
(DEEP VOICE) Yeah! Unh!
Yeah.
You don't know nothin' about that.
Nothin'!
(SIGHS) We gotta cut that sad mother failure.
BRAD: You're damn right, we do.
But you've got to do it. He's used to hearing crap like that from you.
You got it.
Yo, yo, teammates! Are y'all ready to throw
another "W" up on the board today?
Choo-choo-choo-choo, choo-choo-choo-choo,
choo-choo-choo-choo, choo-choo-choo-choo...
(HIGH-PITCHED VOICE) Choo-choo!
(NORMAL VOICE) Next stop... Championship.
All aboard! M-Slice!
B-Rad! Big A!
Weird S. P-Dog!
And Lance Briggs.
That's the name on my state ID.
I don't drive. It's too dangerous.
What is Chicago Bears linebacker Lance Briggs doing in our dugout?
D-Town.
Dave, Lance works out at Brad's pilates gym.
Heard that.
No, you didn't.
Anyway, we asked him to join the team, bud.
Yeah, so that means we're gonna have to replace somebody, buddy.
Ouch. That's some harsh barley,
but what's good for the gander is good for the geese, so...
Sorry, Scotty. You're pretty weird, anyway.
(LID POPS)
Dave. Well, if it's not Scotty, then who...
Oh. It's me, isn't it?
Dave, we just can't get eliminated now.
Bunt Cake's gotten addicted
to people calling him "Bunt Cake."
Bunt they will. (CHUCKLES)
Look, I'm sorry, Dave. I mean, it's not gonna be me.
(CHUCKLES) You know, I haven't hooked up yet,
and... I'm mad ***, son.
Please no.
(SIGHS) Look, guys, have I been in a slump? Yes.
Is Lance Briggs a superior athlete? Doy.
Does he have the body of a Greek god? Amen!
But the point is, Lance, would it be weird
if I asked you for your autograph right now?
Come on, man.
(SIGHS)
You look like you're in pretty bad shape.
DUCKIE: (AMPLIFIED VOICE) Well, here we are!
The score is 5-4, Kaz's Auto Body in the lead!
Down to their final out of the tournament,
Team Zula's last hopes rest on Alex Kerkovich,
who will be facing off against Jane Kerkovich-Williams!
Wow, they're sisters. I just found that out.
Hash tag, who knew they were sisters?
(CROWD CHEERS)
(VOICE BREAKING) Babu.
That should be my t-shirt.
(VOICE ECHOES) ...featuring Alex Kerkovich!
Ruthless. Just ruthless.
DUCKIE: That's a fair ball!
(HIGH-PITCHED VOICE) What? What?
Somehow she didn't see the pitch coming?
And that's the ball game, folks!
Kaz's Auto Body is going to the championship game,
and I got to see female belly for the first time
since my wife moved into the second bedroom!
Ooh. Babu the Monkey. I loved that show.
Hey, Lance Briggs...
(NASAL VOICE) Shut up.
MAX: Come on, guys. Even though it's over,
I don't want to see any long faces. We're Team Xela!
We gotta pick our chins up!
(VOICE BREAKING) Yeah.
Turns out, there is crying in kickball.
God, I hate losing. I hate it so much! It sucks!
And I hate being humiliated by Jane.
Unless it's on my terms... With a safe word.
And I screwed over Dave.
I mean, what did Lance Briggs even do for us?
(CHEERING)
CROWD: Oh!
Well, you know, Robbie Gould, the Bears' kicker,
also goes to my gym.
Oh, we should have asked him, huh?
No. No, no, no. no, no, no. This is on me.
It was supposed to be about fun, and I got drunk on winning,
and I forgot what was important, and now, it's all over.
PENNY AND BRAD: What?
You guys are playing Ivanov in the championship.
Kaz's Auto Body got disqualified
for corking their sneakers with steel.
Oh! If you can't trust an auto body shop, who can you trust?
Really?
Wait. You said you wanted
to "taste the sweet nectar of victory
"because you were pretty sure it'd taste like blood,
"human blood."
Oh, it so does. (WHISPERS) Oh.
But I want to be ruthless with you, not against you.
Aw. (CHUCKLES)
Yay! Team Xela is back together.
Yay! I said "Xela" right.
(ALL CHEER)
(CHEERS STOP)
Look, Dave,
I feel terrible about this Lance Briggs thing,
so I made you apology soup.
Is it the same recipe as "I'm sorry you saw my mom naked" soup?
Yep. Corn chowder.
I get it. You guys wanted to win.
Yeah, but I realized that it's not about winning.
It's about having fun with your friends,
so I want you to come back tomorrow and play.
You're that mad?
Look, I don't have time to break out the slow cooker
and make apology pork loin with a side of super sorry glaze.
I just... I don't have that time.
I'm not mad. Kickball is about friendship,
and I want my friends to win,
so I'm gonna let Scotty play for me tomorrow,
but I will be there supporting my team like a total badass.
Really? (SIGHS)
High five. (CHUCKLES)
Mmm.
I got a piece of it. (LAUGHS)
(ROCK MUSIC PLAYING)
(CROWD CHEERING)
(BONES CRACK)
Yikes.
(AMPLIFIED VOICE) It is the fifth and final inning, folks.
Ivanov Nail Salon leads 3-to-nothing.
We are one out away from finishing this year's championship.
Team Shammy has Kerkovich on second, Hartz on first,
and that brings up... (SINGSONGY) Brad Williams!
Yeah! Louder!
Bunt Cake!
Bunt Cake!
Bunt Cake!
Bunt...
I gotta concentrate.
That's obnoxious at this point.
(CROWD SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY)
Oh! In a page from the Bambino,
he is calling a home run...
No, wait! In a page from no one, he is calling a bunt.
In my 36 hours of covering kickball, folks,
I've never seen anything so confusing.
Here's the pitch!
(CHARGE PLAYING)
(CHEERING)
DUCKIE OVER P.A.: Oh, my God. He didn't bunt.
He kicked a single.
Oh, my God! It's the exact same result as a bunt...
(CHUCKLES) But it feels so much better!
Oh! (CHUCKLES) Thank you!
Bases loaded.
(GRUNTS)
Go bring 'em home.
You got the right guy, Max. I despise soviets.
You know why? Because they rendered
every single one of my old globes obsolete.
(THUDS)
Oh! My weak spine!
Oh! My weak knees!
Oh! Oh! I need steroids!
Time out! Jee-La, who you got?
(WHISPERS) What?
Can you do this for me, D-Town?
Mnh-mnh.
(PANTING) Dave! Listen, stop blaming yourself for hitting me.
It was an accident.
It'd be hard not to hit me. Look at this melon.
Even Tim Russert would be like,
"Damn, girl. Your head's all swole up!"
That's... It's so big.
All right. All right. That's enough.
Look, just stop putting
so much pressure on yourself, okay?
Kick it. Don't kick it. Just have fun.
(SIGHS)
Thanks, guys.
Let's do this.
Dave Rose? But he's terrible!
(EXHALES DEEPLY)
Look alive, baby! Big kick!
The tension here is high.
All right. Here's the pitch...
(THE NATURAL THEME PLAYING)
Aah!
CROWD: Oh!
(GRUNTS)
(RUSSIAN ACCENT) We won!
(CROWD BOOING)
(XELA PLAYERS CHEERING)
They lost. Why are they celebrating?
(CHEERING CONTINUES)
An inexplicable celebration from Team Shayla.
(CHUCKLES) Sorry, folks. I must be drunk.
I said their name wrong.
(ALL CHEERING)
Perhaps it's moral victory.
(SOBBING) Why?
Why?
ALL: Yeah!
Do you ever see stuff in the stars?
Sure do.
See right there under Ursa Minor?
I see a wide receiver running a slant
as we drop into cover two.
Mmm-hmm.
What about up there?
Oh, right there just above Orion's Belt,
I see an H-back in spread formation.
He's about to run a check down.
What do you see?
I see a puppy.
(CHUCKLES) We are so in sync.
Agreej.
(INHALES DEEPLY)
(EXHALES DEEPLY)