In Major League Baseball, the Orioles of Baltimore are represented by two separate yet equally incompetent groups: the pitchers who walk the bases loaded, and the batters who squander every scoring opportunity. These are their stories.
(Two CLUBHOUSE ATTENDANTS have arrived at the ballpark early and are folding towels.)
ATTENDANT A: Hey. (pause) Hey, Bern! What are ya doin'?
BERN: I'm folding towels. What the hell does it look like I'm doin'?
ATTENDANT: Yeah, but... (gesturing) don't ya think somethin' weird's goin' on here?
BERN: The only thing weird in here is your... (trails off, cocks head) Do you hear that?
ATTENDANT: That's what I meant!
(They investigate. Camera pans back to reveal a body floating in a bubbling hot tub. They are horrified. Later, BRISCOE and GREEN arrive.)
GREEN: Lenny, why are we in Baltimore?
BRISCOE: I don't ask the questions, Ed, I just solve the murders.
GREEN: But didn't you retire? (BRISCOE shoots him a look.) I'm just sayin'. (peering at the body) Is that what I think it is?
BRISCOE: Looks like Vladimir Guerrero's career.
GREEN: 2,514 hits, 443 homers, .556 career slugging percentage...
BRISCOE: ...but he finally struck out.
(The theme song plays.)
|Indians (J. Masterson - R) @ Orioles (J. Guthrie - R)|