Harry Doyle Quotes in Major League (1989)

Harry Doyle: One hit,that's all we got, one goddamn hit?

Assistant: You can't say goddamn on the air.

Harry Doyle: Don't worry, nobody is listening anyway.

Harry Doyle: JUST a bit outside.

Harry Doyle: Just a reminder, fans, comin' up is our "Die-hard Night" here at the stadium. Free admission to anyone who was actually alive the last time the Indians won a pennant.

Heywood: [Hayes has just reached on an infield single] You really knocked the crap out of that one.

Willie Mays Hayes: Oh, I plan to get at least a double out of this.

[shows Heywood his black gloves]

Willie Mays Hayes: I bought a hundred of these. One for every base I'm gonna steal. Excuse me while I take my first step toward the Hall of Fame.

Heywood: My ass.

Harry Doyle: [Hayes takes his lead off first base] We don't know where Hayes played last year, but I'm sure he did a hell of a job.

Heywood: Real hard to steal second with your shoe untied.

Harry Doyle: [Hayes looks down, then gets thrown out by the pitcher] Throw to first... Hayes is picked off! Personally, I think we got hosed on that call.

Harry Doyle: In case you haven't noticed, and judging by the attendance you haven't, the Indians have managed to win a few here and there, and are threatening to climb out of the cellar.

Harry Doyle: The post-game show is brought to you by...

[searches through his papers]

Harry Doyle: Christ, I can't find it. To hell with it.

Harry Doyle: [before the playoff game] Monty, anything to add?

Colorman: Ummm... no.

Harry Doyle: He's not the best colorman in the league for nothing, folks!

Harry Doyle: [Vaughn is coming out to pitch] So, here is Rick Vaughn, the one they call the "Wild Thing". So, he sets and deals.

[Vaughn throws a wild pitch]

Harry Doyle: Just a bit outside, he tried the corner and missed.

[Vaughn throws another wild pitch]

Harry Doyle: Ball 4.

[Vaughn throws another wild pitch]

Harry Doyle: Ball 8.

[Vaughn throws another wild pitch]

Harry Doyle: Low, and he walks the bases loaded on 12 straight pitches. How can these guys lay off pitches that close?

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

Harry Doyle: [an Indians pitcher is removed from the game] Well, you can close the book on Kellner.

[covers the microphone with his hand]

Harry Doyle: Thank God!

Harry Doyle: [about Haywood] Haywood is coming up to the plate, who is now leading the league in every offensive catagory, including nosehair.

Harry Doyle: [after Vaughn was tossed from the game] So, an eerie start for the Erie warriors as they drop a heartbreaker to the Yankees, nine to nothing. The pst game show is brought to you by...

[Rifles through papers]

Harry Doyle: Christ I can't find it, the hell with it.

Harry Doyle: [after Vaughn accidentally hits Coleman of the Yankees] Uh, oh.

Lou Brown: Interesting.

Harry Doyle: [Seeing the Umpire throw out Vaughn] 'Bout time it's Eight nothing.

Umpire: You, you're gone.

Rick Vaughn: What?

Umpire: You hear me, you're gone.

Rick Vaughn: He was on top of the plate.

Heywood: Oh, c'mon that's horseshit.

Lou Brown: [to Pepper] I think you can get him out of there.

Rick Vaughn: The ball slipped out of my hand, it was an accident.

Umpire: You threw at him intentionally.

Rick Vaughn: Oh, kiss my ass.

Umpire: Get out of here.

Rick Vaughn: You're full of shit, fuck you!

Umpire: Get out of here, rookie.

Rick Vaughn: Hey, why don't you blow me, ump?

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

Harry Doyle: [as Haywood hits a high-fly ball] Haywood swings and crushes this one towrd South America. Tomlinson is gonna need a Visa to catch this one, it is out of here, and there is nothing left but a vapor trail.

Harry Doyle: The Indians win it! The Indians win it! Oh my GOD, the Indians win it!

Harry Doyle: And Heywood crushes one towards South America!

Harry Doyle: [after Vaughn throws 12 wild pitches and hits Coleman the next batter] Whoa! It's about time, it's 8-nothing.

Harry Doyle: So a tough loss for the Indians as Pedro Cerrano doubles off a pigeon and is tagged out while administering CPR before the tying run could score. Funny game ain't it Monty?

Monte: Well at least the bird survived.

Harry Doyle: Who cares? It's a rat with wings.

Harry Doyle: [drunk] So, Hiroshi "Kamikaze" Tanaka, recently of the Tokyo Giants, knocks himself cold for the second time this week. Maybe in Japan, that's actually better than catching the ball. Personally, I think he's just trying to get out of the lineup.

[Willie is in his first at-bat and points his bat to the left field fence]

Harry Doyle: And look at this. Willie Mays Hayes is calling his shot.

Johnny: All right Willie! Right here!

Rube Baker: What's he pointing at? Does he know somebody out there!

Harry Doyle: Hayes steps in and gets his pitch. There's a swing and it's going toward left. And it is...

[Willie hits the ball and the left fielder catches it at the warning track]

Harry Doyle: Not quite gone.

Willie Mays Hayes: That had to be the wind.

Johnny: It must have been the wind.

[after Hayes calls a shot to left field and flies out to left for the second time]

Harry Doyle: You know, he could be pointing at the left fielder.

[first lines]

Harry Doyle: Hello everybody. Harry Doyle here, welcoming all you Wahoo maniacs to the year's first session of Tribe Talk. As you know, the Indians had a Cinderella season last year. Despite the fact that *toxic* owner Rachel Phelps wanted the team to lose so she could move it to Florida, the Indians won the American League East for the first time since divisional play began. Rachel's gone now, thank God, having sold the team to retired Indian third baseman Roger Dorn, after a long, hard fought series of negotiations.

[flashback to negotiations]

Roger Dorn: Mmmight be willing to go as high as a hundred.

Rachel Phelps: 120.

Roger Dorn: 120? Rachel, you just started at 110!

Rachel Phelps: 130!

Roger Dorn: Rachel, this isn't fair!

Rachel Phelps: 140!

Roger Dorn: [desperately begging] 130!

Rachel Phelps: 150!

Roger Dorn: [immediately gives in] We'll take it!

Rachel Phelps: Oooh, you're good Dorn.

Harry Doyle: [scene returns to radio show] Even with Dorn in the owner's box, the Indians are solid favorites to repeat in the East, and to go all the way to the World Series. And why not? Look at the lineup we have coming back. First of all, the Cuban Crusher, the voodoo man with a bad attitude, Pedro Cerrano. Even though his training methods were a little unusual, Pedro finished in the top five in homers, RBI's, slugging percentage and total baldness. Also back is centerfielder Willie May Hayes, who came out of nowhere to lead the league in great catches and stolen bases. We're told he starred in an action movie during the offseason, where he not only did his own stunts, but even his own acting. And don't forget about catcher and team leader Jake Taylor. Despite chronic knee problems he had a fine season, and beat out the bunt that drove in the run that won the division title. And finally one of the brightest young stars in the game today, Rick "Wild Thing" Vaughn. Vaughn began the season in the uniform of the California Penal League and had some control problems early on. But with the help of a pair of black hornrims, he went on to set a Major League record for strikeouts in a season by an ex-carcy. All in all, things couldn't be looking better for the Tribe.

Harry Doyle: Well he's gonna walk Beck to pitch to Parkman obviously Taylor's thinking... I don't know WHAT the hell he's thinking.

[Harry is drunk when he introduces the game]

Harry Doyle: Hello, Tribe fans, welcome to Major League Baseball... sort of. The attendance today is 14 hundred and 12. Most of them left after that 10 run inning the Red Sox put up. Take over Monty, I'm in the bag.

[head hits desk]

Monte: [as the outfielder catches the ball, the crowd is disappointed] Fly ball... Caught!

Harry Doyle: He'll need a rocket up his ass to catch that one; that baby's out of here.

Harry Doyle: [after Rube reaches base on a severely sprained ankle] Well, The Indians have a runner. I think I'll wet my pants.

Harry Doyle: [drunk] Bottom of the 9th, Cleveland down 1 to nothing. Baker steps in he's 0 for... I don't know. Who cares? The pitch

[Baker hits a slow roller and limps down the line]

Harry Doyle: Baker swings and sends a *real screamer* towards short. Ah wrap up with it, fires to first... and Baker beats it with a head-first slide. So the Indians have a runner. I think I'll wet my pants.

Harry Doyle: Well fans, Roger Dorn has done a little redecorating around the ballpark. The outfield walls now look like the yellow pages. And any of you folks having trouble finding a good proctologist, might want to come down here and check out the area around the 375 foot sign. As for the game, we've got a real nailbiter here tonight. It's a lot closer than that 11-2 score.

Harry Doyle: Cerrano doing some interesting limbering up exercises in right.

Harry Doyle: [covers microphone] What a pansy!

[batter hits a fly ball]

Harry Doyle: Here's a fly ball hit to right. Easy play for Cerrano, under it now, and makes the catch...

[ball hits Cerrano's glove and goes over fence]

Harry Doyle: No, that ball is off his glove and outta here! So credit Cerrano with an RBI, and that play could be a finalist in the Trojan-Enz Boner of the Week Award.

Harry Doyle: Tribe fans, we're one out away from our second consecutive divisional title. Rick Vaughn has gone 3 and 2 to Mel Koskie. Here's the pitch. Ball four, and he walked him. That's going to bring the tying run to the plate for the Toronto Blue Jays. A little excitement here at the end. I know I wouldn't have it any other way, and I'm sure you folks feel the same.

[takes out a bottle of Jack Daniel's whiskey]

Harry Doyle: We're in the top of the 9th inning leading 10-7, bases loaded, two down, and Rick Vaughn has come on to try to nail it down against Felipe Aguilar, a dangerous right-handed batter. Here's the pitch.

[Aguilar crushes it]

Harry Doyle: Aww, shit.

Johnny, Bobby, Vic: [in unison] No! No! No!

Harry Doyle: If that's not Shaquille O'Neal in left, that baby's outta here.

Johnny: [catches the ball in the stands for a home run] NO! You rotten bums! You overpaid weenies! Mild thing, you make my butt sting! I *detest* you! You're all garbage! All of ya! Back up the truck! Back it up!

Harry Doyle: Rick Vaughn gets the starting call today. We're told he matured a lot over the winter. Apparently he's bathing now. Congratulations, Rick. As you know, Monte, Vaughn's been working on a couple of new pitches, the Eliminator and the Humilator, to complement his fastball, the Terminator.

Monte: I heard that.

Harry Doyle: Dynamite drop-in, Monte. That broadcast school has really paid off.

Harry Doyle: You know I used to hate Parkman when he was with the A's. It's amazing how a new uniform can change your attitude about a guy.

[covers Mic]

Harry Doyle: He's still a dick.

Harry Doyle: My God! Good news fans, the Indians are showing signs of life for the first time in weeks. As a matter of fact they appear to be beating the crap out of each other. It looks like Willie Hayes is trying to hit Rick Vaughn, and why not, everyone else in the league does. Hayes swings and misses. I don't know Monte, it looks like Vaughn is carrying his left a little low. This could hurt him in the later rounds.

Harry Doyle: [Drinking whiskey, and sounding drunk] Hello, fans. Welcome back to major league baseball, sort of. Today's attendende is...

[Looks at his paper]

Harry Doyle: 1,214. Most of them left after the 10-run inning the red Sox put up, take over Monte, I'm in the bag.

[Passes out on the desk]

Monte: [Slightly excited] Me?

[Sees Cerrano hit a line drive]

Monte: Fly ball,

[sees the Red Sox right fielder catch the ball]

Monte: caught.

[Then, sees the Indians fight each other]

Monte: Hey, wake up.

Harry Doyle: What? My god. the Indians are showing signs of life in weeks.

[Willie and Rick are about to punch each other]

Harry Doyle: It seems that Willie Mays Hayes is trying to hit Vaughn, who blames him, everybody else in the league does.

[Rick tries to puch Willie , who ducks out of the way]

Harry Doyle: Vaughn is hanging his left a little low, this could hurt him in the later rounds.

Harry Doyle: [about Willie Mays Hayes] Went to see his movie but it was only out for two and a half hours. I was told, however, that it was in focus.

[Harry Doyle has been summoned by his parole officer]

Richie Evans: I got a call from the rest home today. She said that you were being a disruptive influence during lunch. That you refused to eat your spinach soufflé, and that you caused a riot. And that last night you made love to a woman.

Harry Doyle: Do you make love to women, Richie?

Richie Evans: Well, yes. Of course I do.

Harry Doyle: Then how come when you do it, you're a stud and when I do it I'm a disruptive influence to society.

Richie Evans: Because I'm only 28 and you're 72.

Harry Doyle: [on the radio to Yablonski] We're running to Mexico!

Archie Long: Tell him to open the switches all the way, or we'll wreck the goddamn train.

Harry Doyle: [on the radio] Open the switches all the way, or we'll wreck the goddamn train.

Leon B. Little: Let's wreck the goddamn train anyway!

Leon B. Little: I wanna get a hundred of those coppers.

Harry Doyle: There's only fifty Leon.

Leon B. Little: So? I'll shoot 'em all twice!

[last lines]

[Harry and Archie have crashed a train into Mexico. The federales show up]

Federale Captain: Buenos dias señores. Put up your hands. I'm afraid you're under arrest.

[the federales aim their guns at Harry and Archie]

Harry Doyle: Eh, now wait a minute, wait a minute. This ain't fair!

Federale Captain: No?

Archie Long: Señor, there's twelve of you and... just two of us.

Federale Captain: Si?

Harry Doyle: A-and you got guns, and we got nothin'.

Federale Captain: But this is how we put you under arrest señor!

Archie Long: Where we come from...

[points back to the US]

Archie Long: ...they've got rules about making arrests.

Federale Captain: Rules?

[Harry and Archie nods]

Archie Long: Si.

Federale Captain: What kind of rules?

[Harry and Archie glance amused at each other with a "here we go again" look]

Archie Long: Well... for one thing...

[Archie kicks the captain in the crotch]

Archie Long: [from trailer]

[to the engineer]

Archie Long: Your train is being robbed.

Train Engineer: You're crazy. Nobody robs trains anymore.

Harry Doyle: [comes up behind engineer and puts gun to his neck] I'd say you've been misinformed.

Harry Doyle: Well, what do you want to do now, Archie? Steal another empty armored truck? Maybe start a collection?

Archie Long: No, we've got to do something big. Something they woun't laugh at.

Harry Doyle: Like what?

Archie Long: We could take down the flier!

Harry Doyle: The Gold Coast Flier? That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard!

Archie Long: That's what you said about the armored truck.

Harry Doyle: No, I said the armored truck was dumb. This is stupid.

Archie Long: I never thought the great Harry Doyle would turn into a gutless wimp!

Harry Doyle: Keep it up Arch, I'll put another hole in that chin a yours!

Harry Doyle: What the hell are you doing here? I thought you was workin'.

Archie Long: I quit.

Harry Doyle: You quit?

Archie Long: Couldn't take it anymore. People treating me like dirt ever since I got out of jail. Sweeping out toilets, scraping crud off dishes, my girlfriend tryin' to kill me with sex - and I'm dressing like Bozo the Clown, just to fit in! I don't want to fit in anymore.

Harry Doyle: That makes two of us.

[first lines]

Archie Long: I'm tellin' ya, Harry...

Harry Doyle: I know, I know. We could have got away with it.

Archie Long: Did I say that before?

Harry Doyle: Every day for thirty years.

Harry Doyle: And I ain't goin' to your funeral!

Archie Long: You ain't invited!

Harry Doyle: I never met so many stupid people in one day.

Harry Doyle: There ain't nothing to steal on the Gold Coast Flier.

Archie Long: So? We'll steal the whole Goddamn train and ride it to Mexico.

Harry Doyle: What for?

Archie Long: To prove we can do it! It's the only thing that we'll have done to have worked out.

Harry Doyle: You can't do this!

Archie Long: Harry, I'm sick and tired of you telling me what I can do and what I can't do.

Harry Doyle: Archie, the Gold Coast Flier is no armored truck. It's a 70-ton train speeding at 100 miles per hour.

Archie Long: That didn't stop us the last time.

Harry Doyle: The last time we were 30 years younger and we got caught. We were put away for 30 years!

Archie Long: Now we're 30 years smarter. We woun't make the same mistakes.

Harry Doyle: That's right. Because we ain't gonna do it.

Bank Robber #1: [as Harry wrests his gun from him] I'll kill you, man! I was only kiddin', Grampa! Let me go!

Harry Doyle: Grampa, huh?

Archie Long: What are you gonna do with him, Harry?

Harry Doyle: I'm gonna blow his head off.

Archie Long: No, you don't want to do that.

Harry Doyle: He was disrespectful to me!

Archie Long: But you just got your suit cleaned. You'll get brains all over it.

Harry Doyle: This punk don't have any brains.

Archie Long: Yeah. But there'll be blood. All red and sticky, *bleah*. It'll be messy.

Harry Doyle: Get a mop!

Archie Long: Okay...

[Harry cocks the gun and the robber faints]

Archie Long: These guys are in the wrong business.

Harry Doyle: They don't make crooks like they used to.

Harry Doyle: We ain't gonna rob no train!

Harry Doyle: You know, Arch, I never met so many stupid people in one day.

Archie Long: Ugly too.

Leon B. Little: Ah, lovers' quarrel! It breaks my heart. Turn around, worm food! Start walking! And don't try anything stupid or you'll die right here! And don't let the goggles fool ya, buster! I'm a sharpshooter!

[They enter an alleyway]

Leon B. Little: All right, turn here! Turn! What the hell is this, a parade?

Harry Doyle: Where are we going, friend?

Leon B. Little: We're going up this alley, 'friend'.

Archie Long: And then what?

Leon B. Little: And then I'm coming out... alone.

[Harry and Archie move a construction barrier and Leon falls screaming down a manhole]

Leon B. Little: Come back, you bastards! Let's finish it once and for all! You'll rot! It stinks down here!

Harry Doyle: Finish it? Finish what?

Archie Long: You sure you don't know that guy?

Harry Doyle: No.

Leon B. Little: Damn it, I'm up to my knees in guck!

Harry Doyle: Could we be losing our memories?

Archie Long: I dunno. Could be, Harry.

Leon B. Little: I'm gonna get pneumonia!

Archie Long: Who the hell are you, anyway?

Leon B. Little: I'm Peter Pan. I've come to take you to Never-Never Land, okay? But you won't be comin' back!

Harry Doyle: You mind telling us why you want to kill us?

Leon B. Little: I'm Leon B. Little.

Archie Long, Harry Doyle: So?

Leon B. Little: Leon B. Little! Don't the name mean nothin' to ya?

Archie Long, Harry Doyle: No.

Leon B. Little: Do you at least know Vinnie Mendelman?

Archie Long, Harry Doyle: Yeah.

Leon B. Little: [to a reporter] Thank God they know somebody!

[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.

Harry Doyle: Wingate is what you'd call a finesse pitcher. Relies on control, accuracy, not speed. They time this kid's fastball with an hourglass!

Harry Doyle: Lance the Dance scores on what appears to be a triple axle thrown in with a salchow.

Boll Weevils Announcer: What's he doing, is that a curtsey?

Harry Doyle: Lance the Dance is entertaining the crowd. He is blowing kisses and curtseying. This must go back to his days as a balladeer.

Boll Weevils Announcer: Oh, he was a singer?

Harry Doyle: Dancer.

Boll Weevils Announcer: Oh.

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!

Harry Doyle: Yes, sir, I remember Gus Cantrell from the old California AA League. That was before Diet Coke became my beverage of choice. Gus was a pretty fair pitcher, but he'll have to be more than "pretty fair" to bring this bunch close to anything resembling a baseball team.

[turns to color man and places his hand on the mic]

Harry Doyle: They suck.

Harry Doyle: The brothers Lopez steal second and third. Either somebody got their signals crossed or this is starting to look like a baseball team.

Harry Doyle: It's been a while.

Gus Cantrell: Yeah, well one thing never changes.

Harry Doyle: What's that?

Gus Cantrell: Butterflies.

Harry Doyle: Oh. What a decade to quit drinking.