I can't believe we lost again.
Well, it's not your fault, honey.
Youplayed great.
You played great, too, Mom.
And you played a good game too.
Gee, if we all played such a good game,
I wonder why we lost.
What are you lookin' at?
Yeah, I know I made a few errors.
For instance, one, two and three.
I just have a couple of nagging injuries, that's all.
I'll be fine for next week's game.
Trust me.
I'm still in my prime.
Spasm! Help me!
Breathe through the pain, Daddy.
Breathe through the pain.
Breathe.
Yes.
Aah.
Ah, that's better.
Okay, kids.
Why don't you take the bats downstairs.
Somewhere out of Daddy's reach.
You know, next to success?
Honey, I just asked them to leave
because you know I don't like insulting you
in front of the children.
But it was embarrassing,
the way you missed everything out there today.
It was like you were in the bathroom.
Peg, I told you.
It's all injury-related.
Believe me, when I heal, I'll be batting.400 again.
In both cases.
And I'll tell ya something else.
It wasn't me who cost us that game.
It was those stupid calls by that stupid umpire.
I really believe it was personal, Peg.
You stink.
It was so much fun calling you out.
I know it was little,
compared to the big out God called on you...
but still, it was worth dressing up like a Ninja Turtle.
I'm glad you're happy, rooster bait.
You're the reason we lost.
Your bad, 10-minute-long calls.
Hey.
A lot of fans feel I add color to the game
with my patented steeeee-rike!
Besides,
it diverts attention from you,
slinking back to the dugout
after yet another mighty whiff.
Marcie, Al's had a rough day.
Why don't you just sit down here,
and we'll talk about something else.
You really stunk today, Al.
You know, Al is so typical
of a man when he gets his age.
In his head, he thinks he's still young,
but look at him.
Two hundred pounds of hairless, mindless,
aging monkey meat.
And you know, that's just the part
oozing between the buttons.
Oh, it's too bad some men
don't know how to give up their sports gracefully,
instead of lingering on like big babies.
Yeah, doggone it,
if we could only be comfortable with our age
like you darn gals.
You know, I mean in the morning you go in the bathroom--
A little blush, a little mascara.
-- and voilą.
You got an old woman scared of rain.
Then you try to clean-and-jerk
your breasts into a bra, and...
ease some exercise pants
over that front and back belly,
and go down to the market and flirt with the bag boy.
I guess what I'm trying to say is,
it's just pretty pathetic
when we guys try to cling to our youth.
Well, I'll tell you something about women
you may not know.
We always get even.
So let's just take a look at who's umpiring
next week's championship game.
Well, jeez, Louise.
It's me.
It's a good thing for you
I'm big enough not to hold a grudge.
I'm gonna go home and practice for the game.
You're out!
You'reout!
You, sir, stink,
andyou're out.
Out.
Out!
Al, when you were talking about women,
you didn't mean me, did ya?
I never do.
Thanks, honey.
Well...
Ow!
I'm gonna go on upstairs now and take a shower.
What?
After only three ballgames?
Can't I take a shower without there being a reason?
And I don't want to hear any more
about me losing that game.
People say I'm getting old. I'm not getting old!
I can still do everything I always did.
God, how many more steps are there?
Well, we got the ice pack on his back,
heat pack on his neck
and a six-pack down his throat.
So how is he?
Sweaty, drunk and blue.
Gee, just like the night we made you.
Mrs. Bundy.
Bundy children.
Is your husband here?
Tsk.
No. I'm cooking feet for dinner.
Of course he's home.
You want me to go call him?
No, no. We've got something we want to talk over with you.
As you know, we still have high hopes
to win the league championship next week.
Don't worry, Daddy says that he'll be ready.
Let's face facts.
Your father stinks.
I say we should dump the old dog.
Dump him?
You can't.
How 'bout if we just move him to first base
and not throw to him?
What "The Say Duh Kid" is trying to say...
is that you can't take softball away from Daddy.
I mean why don't you just lock him out
of his own bathroom, while you're at it?
That's it.
Leave the man with nothing, why don't you?
Oh, now, now, easy, dear.
They can't get rid of your Dad.
The championship game is next week,
and they cannot play with one man short.
As luck would have it,
we happened on a replacement.
We'd like you to meet Sven.
Oh, Sven!
He bats.380,
he's got a cannon for an arm,
and he runs like children from your husband.
Now, all those in favor of dumping Bundy,
raise your hand.
Oh.
Gee.
How'd that get up there?
Mom.
You're not really gonna vote Dad out, are you?
Honey, it's for the championship.
It has nothing to do with playing with Sven.
His tensed buttocks in his tight uniform.
The autumn sun glinting on his glistening, heaving pecs.
Come on, everybody.
Let's welcome Sven to the team.
Ooh.
Nice game, baby.
What do you say, young Bundys?
We need your votes.
According to team rules, the vote has to be unanimous.
It can be unanimous or out loud.
I don't care.
You're still not getting my vote.
It's just like I wrote in my fourth grade essay:
Daddy good, sleepy now.
Yeah.
We don't care about winning.
Now, that man loves the game, and we love that man.
Besides, if we voted against him,
he'd kick the living crap out of us.
You know, you'll have to forgive the kids.
They still think of Al as their father.
Hey, it's the team!
Hey...
Ah, sorry, guys,
about that little slip-up this afternoon,
but, uh, don't worry about me.
I'll be there for you next week.
Who's the guy with the backpack shaped like my wife?
Your replacement.
Oh, good.
That way, I can concentrate more on baseball.
Watch that morning kiss, buddy.
No-- No, Al.
We meant your replacement on the team. Uh--
How can we put this gently?
Uh-- We think ya stink.
Yeah.
Oh, stink, do I?
Let me paint a picture for you.
May 6, 1982.
New Market Mallers, 0 and 10.
But then,
out of the shoe fields came a fresh-faced kid,
with fire in his eyes and thunder in his back.
Enter the Bundy era.
Let's remember some great moments
from the man whose jockstrap
none of you are fit to carry.
Or get within 100 yards of.
Remember with me, if you will,
June 9, 1983.
Game on the line.
The opposing team drills one in to left field,
where you, Norris,
were standing frozen.
Bundy sprints to the fence and spears it.
Mallers win. And Bundy? MVP.
Let us remember now Bundy on the base paths.
A little dribbler
hit by you, Nessen.
Bundy,
needing to score to win the game,
lowered his head
intothe toughest catcher in the game,
and took out Mrs. Shephouse.
Separating her shoulder and ending her career.
Mallers win,
and Bundy, once again, MVP.
You still wanna bench me?
Yeah. You stink.
Well, you can't.
'Cause I know you need a unanimous vote
to get me out of next week's game.
And I happen to know that my family here
wouldn't do that to their old man.
Best your vote could've been was,
uh...
six to three.
Seven to two.
Why, Peg?
Well, it was for the good of the team.
Al, you gotta feel this.
I'm gonna call for one more vote, Bundy.
You can call your son home from ballet school,
for all I care.
I know I have the votes of my children.
All right.
I don't want to sway you, but don't you youngsters
want to win the first championship
in Mallers' history?
Well, not if it's gonna hurt my Daddy.
Well, what about free lunches at my restaurant?
Can we see a menu first?
Wait a minute!
Now, kids, before we vote,
may I share a little rhyme I learned
when I was both your ages?
* D is for de many pies I made you *
* A is for the apple In my eye *
* D is for de dish You ate the pie in *
* D is for de apple Of my eye *
Y? Because I love you.
* Put them all together *
* They spell Daddy *
I'm sorry.
Take your vote now.
And starting for Al Bundy,
Sven Hunkstrom.
Oh, come on, honey.
Don't be bitter.
You can still be of some use to the team.
Why, a few of us would like ice cream.
Well, excuse me, Mr. Long-Face.
Oh, don't you know we did this because we care about you?
Oh, really?
Y- you know what really hurts, Peg?
It's the fact that you didn't even bother--
Shh! Sven's up.
Boo.
* Born under a bad sign *
* Been down since I began to crawl *
* If it wasn't for bad luck *
* I wouldn't have No luck at all *
* Bad luck and trouble *
* Is my only friend *
* I been on my own *
* Ever since I was 10 *
* Born under a bad sign *
* I been down since I began to crawl *
* If it wasn't for bad luck *
* I wouldn't have No luck at all *
* If it wasn't for bad luck *
* I wouldn't have No luck at all *
Okay.
Bases are loaded,
and we've only got one out.
Bud, you're up.
Wish me luck, Dad.
That good enough luck for you?
Going...
It's going...
Caught on the warning track!
Tough luck.
Way to let the team down.
Heeee's
out!
What do we do now?
We have to have someone to bat for him.
We've only one player left.
Excuse me.
Mrs. Bundy?
Oh, yeah.
This'll be real easy.
Al...
Honey.
Hey, would you go up there and bat?
The guys would really like it a lot.
Really?
Gee, does everyone want me?
I mean, even my family?
I mean, I'm-- I'm old, and I stink.
What's it gonna take to get you to go hit?
* D is for de many pies You made us *
* A is for the apple In his eye *
* D is for the dish You made the pie in *
* D is for de apple In his eye *
* Y? Because we love you *
* Put them all together *
* They spell... *
Make me feel it.
* Daddy *
Hat.
Thunder rod.
Batting for Sven Hunkstrom,
Al Bundy.
You know he's gonna strike out.
Strike!
What's he doing?
Framing his greatest failure.
Strike two!
Come on, kids.
Daddy can get a ride home
on the shoulders of the opposing team.
Come on, Bundy!
You can do it!
Come on, Bundy!
It's going...
It's gone!
We've done it!
Well,
you know, we're never gonna hear the end of this one.
Gee, how can you tell?
The way he's making fire engine noises
as he rounds the bases?
Well, look closely, kids.
Something you may never see again.
Behold.
A shoe salesman in triumph.
All right, Dad!
Well, cross the plate, Bundy.
Cross the plate!
In due time.
Microphone, please.
Before I cross home plate
and bring home the first-ever championship to the Mallers,
I would just like to say that,
today, today, today, today...
I consider you, you, you...
the luckiest team
on the face of the earth, earth, earth...
And in closing, I'd like to say,
I hate you all.
I thank no one but myself.
As of today, I, Al Bundy,
am finished with baseball.
M.
V.
P!
Move it!
Hey, kid, how you doin'?
All right.
All right!
Boy, that center fielder's gonna get burned
playing that shallow.
Heads up!
Who is that guy?
I think it's him.
Who's him?
Al Bundy.
Did you ever see him play?
I only heard about him. Yeah...
I saw him play.
He was the best.
Ran, threw, sold shoes.
Heh.
He was the best.
Is that him?
Nah.
That's not him.
He said he'd had enough of the game. Heh.