Bull Durham

ANNIE

(to herself)

She will, Mr. LaLoosh, she will

...

ANNIE SITS DOWN in a kitchen chair. An enormous sigh.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE DOWNTOWNER MOTEL -- NIGHT

Nuke knocks on Crash's door. Nobody home. Tony is arriving

with his GROUPIE GIRLFRIEND to the next room.

TONY

Crash ain't there. He never gets

back till four or five--

NUKE

Where does he go?

TONY

Well, I'd rather not say.

NUKE

They called me up to the Show and

I wanta tell Crash goodbye.

TONY COMES OVER AND GIVES NUKE a heartfelt "five".

TONY

Goddamn, that's great! Jesus!

(beat)

Listen, Crash don't like anybody

to know it but--

(beat)

Most nights he goes down to, you

know, down to Niggertown. To

Sandy's... the whorehouse.

NUKE

He goes to a whorehouse every

night?

TONY

Don't tell him I told you--he'd

break my neck.

CLOSE ON NUKE -- Disturbed.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE BLACK SECTION OF DURHAM -- NIGHT

A CAB MOVES SLOWLY through a poor neighborhood. Stops at:

AN OLD HOUSE -- Decades of ad hoc add-ons.

BLACK CABBIE

That's Sandy's. Keep your extra

cash In your shoes.

NUKE GETS OUT and goes to the door.

CUT TO:

EXT. SANDY'S WHOREHOUSE -- NIGHT

NUKE KNOCKS AT THE DOOR -- A small barred window opens.

A face appears--a TOUGH BLACK, SANDY, 50.

SANDY

What'you want, kid?

NUKE

Jim looking for somebody.

SANDY

Who ain't?

NUKE

Looking for Crash Davis.

SANDY

Ain't here.

NUKE

I'm Nuke LaLoosh. With the Bulls.

SANDY

(studying him)

Your breaking ball's getting better

but ya need a change up.

The door opens. Nuke enters.

CUT TO:

INT. SANDY'S WHOREHOUSE -- NIGHT

NUKE ENTERS TENTATIVELY -- Another world. Grim. Sleazy.

The Doorman leads him down a hallway full of doors. A BLACK

PROSTITUTE enters a room with a HUGE REDNECK. As they go

down the hallway, and as they do:

We begin hearing singing--raucous, soulful, drunk.

NUKE STOPS IN A DOORWAY -- Looks into the "waiting room".

--P.O.V. SEVERAL HOOKERS in various stages of undress, sit

on couches and chairs. Bored, smoking, ancient. The ONE

WHITE HOOKER, a skinny 25 year old, accompanies on a guitar,

struggling to keep up. And a couple HOOKERS are hanging

around a piano that--

CRASH IS PLAYING and singing. He doesn't look up. Crash Is

dressed but barefoot. A cigaret dangles from his mouth as

he accompanies himself with decent cocktail lounge chords.

Two Hookers at the piano hum along.

CRASH (SINGING AND PLAYING)

But when she does get weary--Try

a little tenderness...

NUKE STEPS INTO THE ROOM -- All the Hookers rise in

anticipation of a new customer. Crash keeps playing, never

looking up.

CRASH (SINGING CONT'D)

You know she's waiting, just

anticipating, the things that

she'll never possess...

(beat)

While she's there waiting--Try a

little tenderness...

Nuke interrupts the instrumental passage:

NUKE

Crash. I'm going to the Show.

Crash Ignores him, keeps playing.

NUKE

Club's expanding its roster to

finish the season--

CRASH

Shut up. I'm playing.

(singing last 8 bars)

Oh you won't regret it, young

girls don't forget it, lost in

their own wilderness ...

(beat)

But it's all so easy--Just try a

little tenderness...

As Crash plays on--

NUKE

I'm going to the Show.

CRASH

Then go.

NUKE GRABS CRASH by the hair and jerks him to his feet. The

two men are face to face.

NUKE

I'm trying to thank you.

CRASH

Let go of me!

NUKE LETS HIM GO and Crash staggers drunkenly against the

piano, regaining his balance as:

SANDY RUSHES IN WITH A GUN to break it up.

SANDY

He makin' trouble for you, Mr.

Davis?

CRASH

No, no, Sandy, put it down.

(drunkenly, to Nuke)

Nuke, you know Sandy Grimes? Hit

.367 at Louisville in 155.

SANDY

I hit .371.

CRASH

He hit .371--C'mon, Nuke--you and

me, let's step outside and settle

this.

NUKE

Settle what?

CRASH

C ' mon!

NUKE

I don't wanta fight you, I wanta

thank you. Let's have a drink

and forget this--

CRASH

God damn it, you fucking virgin

prick--step outside.

Crash drunkenly heads out the back door in his underwear.

Nuke reluctantly follows.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE ALLEY BEHIND THE WHOREHOUSE -- NIGHT

Several of the Hookers follow to watch. Crash is drunk and

lost. Nuke in control.

NUKE

C'mon, we got nothin' to fight

about.

CRASH

You fuck!

NUKE

Why am I a fuck?

CRASH

Why are you a fuck?

(beat)

'Cause you got talent. I got

brains. But you got talent!

You're God damn left arm is worth

a million dollars a year.

(drunken insight)

All my limbs put together are

worth 7 cents a pound--and that's

for science and dog meat.

NUKE

You're a great catcher.

CRASH

Come over here into the light so

I can kick your ass.

NUKE

No.

CRASH

Okay, I'll kick your ass there.

Crash takes a step toward Nuke. Pulls up his bare feet

quickly, stepping on a sharp stone.

CRASH

...God damn...I forgot my fucking

shoes. Honey, go get my shoes.

One of the Hookers goes inside for his shoes.

NUKE

I'll take you back to the hotel.

CRASH

(drunken, mad)

You know what the difference Is

between hitting .250 and hitting

.300? 1 got it figured out.

(beat)

Twenty-five hits a year in 500 at

bats is 50 points. Okay? There's

6 months in a season, that's about

25 weeks--you get one extra flare

a week--just one--a gork, a ground

ball with eyes, a dying quail--

just one more dying quail a week

and you're in Yankee Stadium!

CUT TO:

INT. THE WHOREHOUSE -- CONTINUOUS

THE HOOKER FINDS CRASH'S SHOES -- Starts to bring them out

to him when...she notices cash in one of them. The Hooker

takes a few bills for herself, and continues out--

CUT TO:

BACK IN THE ALLEY -- Crash finishes his tirade as:

THE HOOKER COMES OUT WITH CRASH'S SHOES

He struggles drunkenly to put them on.

NUKE

Forget it. You ain't worth

thanking--

NUKE STARTS TO WALK AWAY -- Crash fires his one free shoe at

Nuke hitting him in the back of the head.

NUKE WHIRLS -- Comes after Crash.

CRASH

Come on, Meat...

CRASH SWINGS WILDLY -- Nuke ducks it and level s Crash with

a short right hand.

CRASH CRASHES INTO SOME GARBAGE CANS -- Lies there on his

back for several beats. Nuke stares.

CLOSE ON CRASH -- Blood trickles from his mouth.

CRASH

Nuke...tell me something. Did

you hit me with your right or

your left?

NUKE

My right.

Silence. Crash's next line is both drunk and sober and we

don't know if he's just being clever or if, somehow, he's

staged It all. Maybe even he doesn't know.

CRASH

Good. Good. That's terrific...

NUKE

What?

CRASH

If ya get in a fight with some

asshole, never hit his with your

pitching hand. ya might get

injured.

(smiles)

That's another lesson for ya--now

quit fucking around and help me

up.

CRASH REACHES UP A HAND FOR HELP -- Nuke stares back.

AND FINALLY NUKE REACHES DOWN AND HELPS CRASH to his feet.

NUKE

Ya look like shit.

The two men head inside.

CUT TO:

EXT. DURHAM STADIUM -- NEXT MORNING -- EARLY

NUKE'S PORSCHE -- The Clubhouse Boy drags Nuke's out to the

car and loads the trunk. Annie, Larry and a COUPLE KIDS AND

DOGS are watching.

CUT TO:

INT. THE LOCKER ROOM -- CONTINUOUS -- DAY

NUKE CLEANS OUT HIS LOCKER -- Filling his travel bag.

Crash sits on a stool next to him. Sober.

CRASH

Sorry about last night.

NUKE

Forget it.

CRASH

I have been known, on occasion,

to howl at the moon. D'you

understand that?

NUKE

No.

CRASH

You will.

(beat)

Look, Nuke--these Big League

hitters are gonna light you up

like a pin ball machine for awhile--

don't worry about it. Be cocky

and arrogant even when you're

getting beat. That's the secret.

(beat)

You gotta play this game with

fear and arrogance.

NUKE

Fear and ignorance.

CRASH

(raging)

No. Fear and arrogance, you,

hayseed, not ignorance!

NUKE

(smiles calmly)

I know. I just like to see you

get all worked up.

Crash calms down. Sighs. Nuke nods and picks up his bags.

NUKE

(knows it's not true)

Well, I got Annie all warmed up

for ya...

(knows it is true)

She's just waiting for you to

show up, y'know...

CRASH

I don't need a crazy woman in my

life.

NUKE

Maybe you do.

(quick beat)

Y'know I'm starting to like this

game--baseball's a helluva good

way to make a living.

Crash speaks with quiet passion, from his soul.

CRASH

It's the best, Nuke...the absolute

fucking best.