Jake Taylor: That ball wouldn't have been out of a lot of parks.
Rick Vaughn: Name one.
Jake Taylor: Yellowstone?

Umpire: You threw at him intentionally!
Rick Vaughn: Oh, kiss my ass!
Umpire: You're gone!
Rick Vaughn: You're full of shit! Fuck you!
Umpire: Get outta here, rookie!
Rick Vaughn: Oh, why don't you blow me ump?

Rick Vaughn: I got news for you Mr. Brown, you haven't heard the last of me. You may think I'm shit now, but someday you're gonna be sorry you cut me. I'm gonna catch on somewhere else and every time that I pitch against you I'm gonna stick it up you're fuckin' ass!
Lou Brown: Good, I like that kind of spirit in a player. The only problem is I didn't cut you.
Rick Vaughn: What?
Lou Brown: I think someone's been having some fun with you.

Rick Vaughn: Fuck you.
Roger Dorn: What's the matter, rookie Fuck-Wad? Can't you take a little joke?
Rick Vaughn: Real fucking funny, asshole.
Lou Brown: All right, all right. Knock that shit off.
Roger Dorn: Lou, you better make it real clear to this little lady that I'm not about to take his shit.
Lou Brown: Shut up, Dorn.

Roger Dorn: Don't fuck with me, Vaughn.
Rick Vaughn: Yeah?

Jake Taylor: That's my wife...
Willie Mays Hayes: Does she know that?
Jake Taylor: Well, she would've been if I hadn't screwed it up... who's that guy she's with?
Willie Mays Hayes: I don't know. He's not wearing a nametag.
Rick Vaughn: Want me to drag him outta here, kick the sh!t out of him?

Everybody: Hello. Do you know us? We're a Major League Baseball team.
Jake Taylor: But since we haven't won a pennant in over 30 years, nobody recognizes us - not even in our own home town.
Eddie Harris: That's why we carry the American Express card.
Rick Vaughn: No matter how far out of first we are, it's cool. You know, it keeps us from getting shut out at our favorite hotels and restaurant-type places.
Pedro Cerrano: So if you're looking for some Big-League clout, apply for that little green home-run hitter.
Roger Dorn: Look what it's done for US. People still DON'T recognize us but...
Lou Brown: We're contenders now.

Rick Vaughn: You put snot on the ball?
Eddie Harris: I haven't got an arm like you, kid. I have to put anything on it I can find. Someday you will too.

Rick Vaughn: What's that shit on your chest?
Eddie Harris: Crisco? Bardol? Vagisil. Any one of them will give you another two to three inches drop on your curve ball. Of course if the umps are watching me real close I'll rub a little jalapeño up my nose, get it running, and if I need to load the ball up I just... wipe my nose.

Willie Mays Hayes: Call the stewardess, Vaughn. I need one of those bags.
Rick Vaughn: There aren't any stewardesses.
Willie Mays Hayes: I wonder if they are any pilots.

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