[at the library, discussing Jake's one-night stand] I had no choice. She bet me 50 dollars that she had a better body than you and I had to defend your honor.

Jake Taylor

This guy threw at his own son in a father son game.

Harry Doyle

Yo, bartender, Jobu needs a refill.

Eddie Harris

Second base... shit.

Jake Taylor

Tom: Stay away from her.
Jake Taylor: Suck my dick.

Eddie Harris: You know you might think about taking Jesus Christ as your savior instead of fooling around with all this stuff.
Roger Dorn: Shit, Harris.
Pedro Cerrano: Jesus, I like him very much, but he no help with curveball.
Eddie Harris: You trying to say Jesus Christ can't hit a curveball?

Bats, they are sick. I cannot hit curveball. Straightball I hit it very much. Curveball, bats are afraid. I ask Jobu to come, take fear from bats. I offer him cigar, rum. He will come.

Pedro Cerrano

I'm hung over, my knees are killin' me and if you're going to pull this shit at least you could've said you were from the Yankees.

Jake Taylor

Heywood leads the league in most offensive categories, including nose hair. When this guy sneezes, he looks like a party favor.

Harry Doyle

Forget about the curve ball Ricky, give him the heater.

Lou Brown

Charlie Donovan: How would you like to manage the Indians this year?
Lou Brown: Gee, I don't know...
Charlie Donovan: What do you mean, you don't know? This is your chance to manage in the big leagues.
Lou Brown: Let me get back to you, will ya, Charlie? I got a guy on the other line asking about some white walls.

The post-game show is brought to you by... Christ, I can't find it. To hell with it.

Harry Doyle

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