Bull Durham

you?

EBBY

(glassy eyed)

Call me "Nuke". Annie said it's

my new nickname.

Lots of teasing from around the clubhouse.

DEKE

Annie nailed you? That's great,

means you're gonna have a helluva

year. Does she fuck as good as

they say?

EBBY

We didn't do it, man--she read

poetry to me all night, I swear.

It's more tiring than fucking.

EBBY GOES TO HIS LOCKER and starts undressing. Crash sits

next to him, looking straight ahead. Bobby nearby.

EBBY

--of love"...hey, Crash, does

that mean what I think it means?

What's the deal here?

Crash studies Ebby.

CRASH

Your shower shoes have fungus on

'em. You'll never get to the

Bigs with fungus on your shower

shoes.

(beat)

Think classy and you'll be classy.

If you win 20 in the Show you can

let the fungus grow back on your

shower shoes and the press'll

think you're colorful.

(beat)

Until you win twenty in the Show,

however, it means you're a slob.

CRASH RISES AND HEADS OUT to the field. Ebby sits silently,

holding his shower shoes, taking it all in.

CUT TO:

EXT. DURHAM BALLPARK -- GAME IN PROGRESS -- DAY

IN THE DUGOUT -- THE GAME FROM A DUGOUT P.O.V. The players

sit, stand, stir restlessly. A combination of relaxation

and intensity not visible from the stands.

CRASH IS HANDED HIS BAT and helmet by the bat boy.

DEKE

This guy's bringing some serious

smoke out there.

DUGOUT P.O.V. THE WINSTON-SALEM PITCHER throwing hard.

CRASH

He ain't got shit.

FOLLOW CRASH INTO THE ON-DECK CIRCLE -- The ritual. The bat

boy hands him the pine tar rag and he rubs pine tar on the

bat with great care.

CRASH RISES -- Heads to the plate. Talking to himself.

CRASH

You ain't getting that cheese by

me, meat.

CRASH TAKES HIS STANCE -- Upright. Calm. Head still.

CRASH (VOICE OVER)

Look for the fastball up. He's

gotta come with the cheese. Relax.

Relax. Quick bat. Pop the

clubhead. Open the hips. Relax.

You're thinking too much. Get

outta your fuckin' head, Crash.

CLOSE ON CRASH'S FACE -- His eyes intensely focused.

CRASH'S P.O.V. THE PITCHER -- Starts his windup.

CRASH (VOICE OVER)

Get on top of the ball. Quick

bat. Don't let him in your kitchen--

THE PITCHER DELIVERS -- Crash strides. Curveball.

Crash swings and misses, offstride. Strike one.

CRASH QUICKLY STEPS OUT OF THE BOX and picks up dirt. Rubs

it on his hands. He's pissed.

CRASH (VOICE OVER)

You stupid fuck, Crash. What're

you swinging at a breaking ball

for? Why's he starting me off

with a hammer? Fuck me.

(more dirt)

You're okay. Stay back. Stay

back, you dumb fuck. Wait. Wait.

P.O.V. THE PITCHER'S NEXT DELIVERY -- CURVE BALL AWAY.

CRASH STRIDES INTO THE PITCH -- Lashes a line drive down the

first base line. Just foul.

Crash has started to first. Pulls up. Returns slowly to

the plate. Picks up his bat.

CRASH

Throw that shit again, meat.

Throw that weak ass shit.

(beat)

Now he's gotta try to slip the

cheese by me. one and one.

You're on top. Now bring me the gas--

--P.O.V. PITCHER'S THIRD DELIVERY -- High and tight. Right

at Crash's head. The ball seems to accelerate. About to

explode his skull. For a moment--THE FEAR OF DEATH...

CRASH HITS THE DIRT -- It just misses his head.

CRASH CLIMBS OUT OF THE DIRT -- Brushes himself off.

CRASH (VOICE OVER)

This son of a bitch throws hard.

(beat)

Annie, Annie, Annie--who is this

Annie?

(catching himself)

Jesus, get outta the box you idiot,

where's your head? Get the broad

outta your head.

CRASH HOLDS UP HIS HAND to the ump.

CRASH

Time out.

UMP

Time out!

CRASH STEPS OUT OF THE BOX -- Motions to the bat boy for the

pine tar rag. The boy brings it over. Crash re-applies it

to his bat.

BAT BOY

Get a hit, Crash.

CRASH

Shut up.

CRASH WALKS BACK TO THE BOX -- Talking to himself.

CRASH

Awright, awright. You've seen

all his pitches. Two and one.

Relax. Wait. Quick bat. You

can hit this shit--

CRASH IN THE BATTER'S BOX -- Digs in-again. Takes his stance.

Upright. Relaxed. Ready.

CRASH (VOICE OVER)

Shorten up. Bring the gas... Be

quick--be quick--yeah, yeah...

CUT TO:

ANNIE AND JACKSON IN THE STANDS -- She's writing a note

quickly, and hands it to Jackson, who hurries off.

CUT TO:

CRASH'S P.O.V. THE PITCHER'S NEXT PITCH -- A major league

fastball. It explodes to the plate. Crash swings. And

misses. Strike Three.

CRASH WALKS BACK TO THE DUGOUT -- Head high, no show of

emotion. Almost proud. An old Warrior, not giving an inch

even in defeat.

HE RE-ENTERS THE DUGOUT -- Sits down and starts putting the

catcher's gear back on. Deke leans over.

DEKE

Serious heat, eh?

CRASH

He ain't got shit.

THE BATBOY TAKES THE NOTE FROM JACKSON -- And hands it to

Crash, who refuses to accept it, being busy putting his gear

on.

BAT BOY

From Annie.

CRASH

Read it.

BAT BOY

Dear Crash. You have a lovely

swing but you're pulling your

hips out too early. I'd be happy

to meet you at the Batting Cage

tomorrow to discuss it. Signed,

Annie.

DEKE

Well if there's one chick'd know

when you're pulling your hips out

early, Annie's the one.

Crash doesn't seem too amused. He grabs the note, and the

pen hanging from the starting lineup card taped to the dugout

wall. He scrawls a quick note.

CUT TO:

ANNIE'S PRIVATE BOX -- She's watching the players through

binoculars as Jackson returns with the note.

ANNIE

(looking through the

glasses)

What'd he say?

Jackson looks at the note uneasily, then reads--

JACKSON

It says..."I want to-make...

love to you. Crash".

ANNIE PUTS DOWN THE GLASSES -- Takes the note.

ANNIE

Oh my...

CUT TO:

EXT. A LOCAL BATTING CAGE DAY

ANNIE DIGS IN AT THE PLATE -- Bat in hand. Crash a few feet

away. Annie spits on her hands, wear batting glove, pumps

the bat back and forth.

THE MECHANICAL PITCHING MACHINE DELIVERS -- Kawoosh.

ANNIE SWINGS -- Lashes out a line drive. Crash smiles.

ANNIE

See my hips?

CRASH

Yep.

ANNIE

I think Thomas Pynchon's a genius.

CRASH

When you're hitting you shouldn't

think about anything but hitting.

(beat)

But you shouldn't think about it

too much. The trick is to use

your brain to not use your brain.

ANNIE

But you were pulling your hips

last night.

CRASH

So...Wanta make love?

ANNIE SWINGS AND MISSES the next pitch.

ANNIE

I'm committed to Nuke for the

season. You had your chance the

other night.

CRASH

What'you see in that guy--he's

dim, pretty boy. a young, wild,

ANNIE

Young men are uncomplicated.

(Crash mutters)

And he's not "dim". He's just

inexperienced. My job is to give

him "life-wisdom" and help him

make it to the major leagues.

CRASH

That's my job too.

ANNIE SWINGS AND MISSES another pitch.

ANNIE

Damn.

CRASH

You're pulling your hips out.

ANNIE

But they're nice hips.

(beat)

I looked up your records-- You've

hit 227 home runs in the minors.

That's great!

ANNIE FOULS ONE OFF and digs in gamely.

CRASH

Don't tell anybody.

ANNIE

Why not? If you hit twenty homers

this year you'll be the all time

minor league champ! The record's

CRASH

247 home runs in the minors would

be a dubious honor, if ya think

about it.

ANNIE

Oh no, I think it'd be great!

The Sporting News should know

about it.

CRASH

No. Please.

ANNIE SWINGS AND MISSES another one.

ANNIE

Damn.

CRASH

Let me.

CRASH STEPS IN TO HIT -- He takes his familiar stance. The

pitch comes. Crash drills it.

CRASH

Your place or mine?

ANNIE

Despite my love of weird

metaphysics and my rejection of

most Judao-Christian ethics, I

am, within the framework of a

baseball season, monogamous.

CRASH

Fact is you're afraid of meeting

a guy like me 'cause It might be

real so you sabotage it with some

bullshit about commitment to a

young boy you

can boss around--

(whack--a line drive)

Great deal. You get to write

self- indulgent little poems all

winter about how hard it is to

find a man even though you just

sent him packing-

(whack--a line drive)

So what do you really want? You

wanta be a tragic woman figure

wallowing in the bullshit of magic?

(whack--a line drive)

Or do you want a guy?

The pitching machine arm flaps. Empty. Silence.

ANNIE

Oh Crash...you do make speeches...

Crash puts the bat down, heads out the gate. She follows.

A LITTLE LEAGUE TEAM ARRIVES -- Twenty-five 10 year olds in

uniform with a couple PARENT COACHES.

LITTLE LEAGUER #1

Hey, are you Crash Davis! Can I

have a autograph?!

CRASH STOPS TO SIGN AUTOGRAPHS amidst 25 Little Leaguers.

CRASH

(as he signs autographs)

Well, Annie, your place or mine?

ANNIE

You got me all confused.

CRASH

A batter has two tenths of a second

to decide whether to swing--

ANNIE

I'm not a real batter. I'm a

woman.

LITTLE LEAGUER

Hey, when are you guys gonna start

winning? You're terrible!

ANNIE

It's a long season, boys.

SUDDENLY A VOICE -- Nuke pulls up, gets out of his Porsche.

NUKE

Hey!