Major League: Back to the Minors
1998
(Gus Cantrell is gaining consciousness after being knocked out with the ball.) Gus Cantrell: God? Pedro Cerrano: No. Gus Cantrell: Moses? Pedro Cerrano: No, but you're getting warm. Gus Cantrell: Cerrano. Pedro Cerrano: (chuckles) Hello, Gus. Gus Cantrell: (laughs, then grabs the back of his head in pain) Oh, Jesus Christ. Pedro Cerrano: Be careful, now. Gus Cantrell: You scared me to death! Pedro Cerrano: Do you mean when you realized God is black? Gus Cantrell: Yeah... I thought She was white. Pedro Cerrano: (laughs) Gus Cantrell: I must've been out a long time if it's Halloween already. Pedro Cerrano: What's your point?
Hog Ellis: Hold it right there! This here is a hundred mile hour fast ball. One of the best pitches known to man today. If it were to hit you, it would've knocked your head clean off. I can always miss, but I've been playing pretty good today, so you gotta ask yourself one question. Carlos Liston: Do I feel lucky? Hog Ellis: Well, do you Carlos?
Carlos Liston: Thou shalt not make fun of Carlos Liston or thou will get their asses whipped.
Doc: Skip, can I talk to you? Gus Cantrell: Sure, whats up Doc?
Harry Doyle: And here's Cerrano, returning to baseball after taking some time off to search for... whatever the hell it was he lost. Maybe his mind!
Gus Cantrell: God... if You can hear me, *please*... send me *one* real baseball player. That's all I ask. And if you can't grant me that then... well... you might as well just strike me dead right here and now. (he gets hit with the baseball)
Taka Tanaka: Family bicker. Customers complain. Everyone blames Taka. Have no... peace of brain.
Gus Cantrell: (looks ahead after reading the newspaper on the bus) Oh, my... Cerrano? Pedro Cerrano: Yo? Gus Cantrell: Cerrano! Pedro Cerrano: (approaches Gus) Si, Gus, what? Gus Cantrell: (points at sign ahead) Is that who I think it is? Pedro Cerrano: (the sign is for Taka's Putt-Putt) Jesus Christo. Tanaka!
(after accidentally-on-purpose spilling a soft drink on the Minnesota announcer) Harry Doyle: Oh, I'm so sorry. Here, here's a twenty. Go get yourself another suit.