Angels in the Outfield

This is Forbes Field, in Pittsburgh. And this is our national pastime, the game of baseball... ... as played by the Pittsburgh Pirates. I didn't know a thing about baseball. My usual job was writing the "Household Hints " column on the Ladies' Page... ... but the paper was running a series of articles: "What's Wrong with the Pirates?" The Sports editor wanted the woman's angle. All I knew was that Pittsburgh was losing. This, I learned, was quite normal. He's out! The manager of the Pirates was a large man named Guffy McGovern... ... who was always coming out to discuss things with the umpire. I was too far away to hear, but he seemed upset, irritated. Maybe even angry. - What's the matter with you? - He was safe by that much! - Do you hear me? - All right. Watch your language or I'll throw you out of the game. There was certainly something wrong with the Pirates. Take that time when Cincinnati was batting... ... and that Pirate player got hit on the head with the ball. That didn't seem right. - You could've catch the ball! Later in the game, when the Pirates were hitting... ... and had a good chance to score, well, even I knew three runners... - ... on one base was too many. - You're out! You're out! Great, that's the first time you three guys have been together all season. The score at the end of the game was Cincinnati 21... ... Pittsburgh 2. - You through, Jenny? - I haven't even started. - How do you get a story? - You hit them on a bad day. - Yeah? - Yeah, they had a good one back in 1938. - Hey, maybe I should talk to McGovern. - Now? Yeah, that's a wonderful idea. Everybody should talk to McGovern once. - How do I get down there? - You see that second tunnel there? - Yeah. - Go down. The door on the right is the Pirate clubhouse. Thanks. Thanks for letting me sit here. Anytime. And Jen, give Guffy our best regards. - I will. Bye. - Bye. What a dirty trick. So ends another holocaust in Forbes Field. The Pirates' exhibition this afternoon... ...reducing their standing to seventh place in the National League. By the way, I'll not be with you for the balance of the season. In the course of my sportscasts... ...I have somehow offended the great Guffy McGovern... ...alleged manager of the Pirates. Steps have been taken and briefly, your announcer has been canned. I'll still have my regular Tuesday-night broadcast and Wednesday television... ...and I shall continue to call the plays as I see them. This is Fred Bayles saying, "Thank you, Guffy McGovern." - No, no, lady. You can't go in there. - Press. - No. - Gangway. Mr. McGovern, please. Does he come out this way? When he's dressed he does. I'd like a story, so I think I'll wait. Lady, he just lost a ball game, 21 to 2. He's unhappy. Can't win all the time. I would like to say a few words about today's endeavor with the Cincinnatis. Of all the... I think it was a waste of time to send me. I don't know the game and I haven't any story. But I can tell you what's wrong with the Pirates... ...that McGovern person. Of all the loudmouthed, offensive... And all those nice, clean-cut young men and the way he bullies them. No wonder they make mistakes, anybody would. If you ask me, the Pittsburgh Pirates would be a lot better off without him. And so would the city of Pittsburgh. - Hey, write it. - Write what? - What you think about McGovern. - But he'd sue us. Honey, compared to his real character, it'll read like a testimonial. Do your worst and let me see it when you finish. Well... - Hi, Jen. - Hi. "Household Hints." Obituary Department. Twelve more people kicked off today. How was the game? Anybody die out there? - Just the Pirates. - Listen to this: "Ignatius A. Turnball, aged 77 years... ...passed away at his home today following a..." What a depressing job. Think about me. I have to write about Guffy McGovern. Now, there's an obituary I'd like to handle. Mr. Kirney must have liked the story. He even put my byline on it: "By Jennifer Paige, 'Household Hints' editor. " He wanted more of the same, personal stuff about McGovern. I realized I'd have to do a little sleuthing. I found out where he lived... ... one furnished room and kitchenette near the ballpark. He had no known relatives, never any visitors. Every morning about 11:00, he left for the field. There were plenty of empty cabs cruising around... ... but McGovern wanted the one without the driver. He would. Hail a cab. Hail a cab. This is the only hack in Pittsburgh? - You like the color? - You know the law, sonny. You're supposed to stay with your cab. Are you with it? - Forbes Field, and make it snappy. - The bums don't start until 1:30. His afternoons were spent like this. The only place he was seen in public, outside the ballpark... ... was John's Steak House. They had the best steaks in town. Medium rare. Yeah. I'm going over and talk to him. You'll make a nice item tomorrow. "Jennifer Paige, age 24, departed this world at approximately..." Oh, stop. I came here to corner him, didn't I? Well, there he is, cornered. - Waiter? A brandy for the lady. - Yes, sir. I'm Jennifer Paige. Jennifer Paige. I wrote that story about you this morning, in the Messenger. - You didn't read it? - All I ever read is the box scores. Well, I began this way, quote: "Aloysius X. McGovern... ...the evil-tongued orator of the baseball field, is a surly, unbred goat... ...whose mouth should be washed out with a strong detergent." Don't ever call me Aloysius. You're not mad? Dogs have fleas, managers have sportswriters. Oh, I'm not a sportswriter. I do "Household Hints" on the Ladies' Page. But I have a few facts and figures about your... Don't put so much ketchup on, it spoils the flavor. A few statistics that might be interesting. For instance, last season, Minelli had a batting average of 0.310. This year he had 0.210. That's a hundred points' difference. - Doesn't it prove something? - I'll have to speak to Minelli. Cruickshank's average is way down too, 93 points. And Minden's and Begg's, it's the same right through the whole batting list. Where'd you gather this information? Tim Durney helped me. He's the Obituary editor. What do you hear from Want Ads? Well, I realize figures can be misleading... ...but when an entire team goes as sour as the Pirates... ...well, I look around for a reason, and I look right at you. What do you have to say, Mr. McGovern? What did he say? "Boo"? Well, well, Guffy McGovern. - How are things in seventh place? - Fine, fine. What do you do with your afternoons now? Thanks to you, I just signed a deal to broadcast for the Giants... ...who, as you may have heard, are leading the league. Meanwhile, I'm just lying around, thinking up things to say about you. Catch me tonight, I'm on in an hour. I can't wait. I got a mission in life now, Guffy. I'm gonna run you out of this town, maybe right out of organized baseball. - You wouldn't do that. - Oh, yes, I would. I'm a stinker. Why don't we talk this over? Let's step in here a minute, huh? I got an exclusive for you. Before I say good night, I would like to reiterate... ...my opinions are those of an unbiased observer... ...who has the best interest of baseball at heart. There is nothing personal in my feud with Guffy McGovern. Incidentally, don't look for me on television tomorrow. By asking questions, I began to learn baseball. Question: What is a balk? Answer: See me tomorrow. Question: What is a rhubarb? Answer: Rhubarb. You're out, McGovern! You're out of the game. And there you have it. Final score: Cincinnati 9, Pittsburgh 0. The Pirates had a total of three hits, seven errors. The Reds, 14 hits... Don't be so modest, Baxter. You made two of those errors all by yourself. Why, what's the matter, Mr. Minden? Did you think that was second base? I'm certainly proud of you athletes today. Particularly you, Mr. Ronson. Our schoolboy star, the pride of Milwaukee High. But I worry about you, son. You're gonna catch a fly ball some of these days and knock your front teeth. Cruicksie. Cruicksie, you were fine. You didn't fall down once. And here we have the famous Saul Hellman, our relief pitcher. You fellas may not believe this... ...but Saul once pitched a two-hitter in a World Series. Of course, that was quite some time ago. But he's still in there pitching. One walk and four hits on 10 pitched balls. Don't you think you're old for this pastime? You should've quit winners when you could reach the plate. Easy, Saul. I'm glad for one thing: Today's game puts us in eighth place. We can go no lower in this league. We used to have a guy like that in the Three-I League. Put gunpowder in his cigarettes. Hey, has McGovern always been like this? You knew him in the minors, didn't you, way back when? Well, what I mean is, you know, when you were first breaking in... You can say it. Sixteen years ago. You've got plenty of stuff left. Plenty. Sure. - Where's my good-luck piece? - I put it in your uniform. - Well, where is it? - Maybe you dropped it out on the field. Of all the empty-headed, buck-brained trainers. Don't tell me I lost that good-luck piece. You've misplaced it somewhere you dope, you... Oh, shut up. - What? - Close your fat mouth. I wanna talk to you. If that's some wise guy on the PA system, I'll bust his snoot. You'll bust nobody's snoot. You've been busting snoots... ... and polluting the air with your foul talk long enough. Frankly, we're fed up. - Do tell. And who are you, may I ask? - An angel. - How's that? - I'm an angel. Well, you must be very proud. Let me get my hands on him. I'll make him an angel. Oh, you're cold, McGovern. I never sit in the field boxes. Where do you sit? Usually on the right hand of the archangel Gabriel. - That name mean anything to you? - Sure, sure, Gabriel. Trumpet player. None of your lip, or I'll boot you over the wall. I can get just as tough as you, remember. I'll murder this guy. Cold, Guffy. Oh, colder, still. Now you're getting warm. - Keep talking. - The angel Gabriel's taken... ... a personal interest in you. Someone down there has been sending up prayers on your behalf. Somebody praying for me? Gee. - One punch, that's all I ask! One punch! - Before he answers those prayers... ... he'd like to clean you up. I'm stuck with the job. There's certain rules. I'll give them to you fast. Number one, cut out the blasphemy. Number two, start treating your fellow men... ... with more respect and understanding. Quit making life miserable for everybody around you. Number three, and this is important: Love and stop slugging thy neighbor, you hear me? I hear you fine. Why can't I see you for one moment? Because I usually stay as far away from you as possible. - The bleachers. - Stay where you are. Stand still and listen or I'll blast you with a bolt of lighting. Now, don't rile me, boy. Just behave yourself and we'll get along fine. As a matter of fact, I'll make a deal with you. Lay off swearing and fighting, and I'll win you some ball games. I might even win you a pennant. You'd like to win a pennant again, wouldn't you? All right, you play ball with me, and I'll play ball with you. How about that? How do I know you're what you say you are? Thunder and lightning's not enough? All right, Aloysius, you trusting soul. Look for a miracle tomorrow night, in the third inning. - What kind of a miracle? - Tomorrow night, in the third inning. Hey, hey. Hey, where are you? Wait a minute! Wait a... Ronson? You're out. You're out. Safe. Out. Yeah? What? I was about to suggest that possibly you erred on that decision. - Get off the field. - Yes, sir. Nice going, big mouth. The Pirates had come to life. On the road, they won 10 games straight. And stranger still, McGovern was a changed man. He hadn't punched a soul in two weeks. The team was sixth when they played the Braves in Boston. It was the last inning. The Pirates were winning 8 to 6. A hard-fought game. Boys, boys, please, take it easy. Now, I'll handle this. Let me... Get out of my way, you bowlegged ape. You fetter-mouthed donkey, you bucket head! Well, McGovern, you sure talked your way out of that one. Ten straight games, and you had to go and blow it. - Now, look, l... - Take off your hat. Yes, sir. - All I said this afternoon... - I heard what you said. Don't repeat it. - Now, look, the guy called me an ape. - Bowlegged ape. - Yeah. - You are a little bowlegged. What am I supposed to do, take it as a compliment? - Don't I get a chance to talk back? - Certainly. The English language has a total of 698,000 words. We ask you to avoid a hundredth of one percent of these... ... which at the moment seems to be your entire vocabulary. - I'll be tongue-tied. - Shakespeare wasn't. Nor Milton or Robert Burns. Study, McGovern. Study. Okay. I keep my trap shut, I win all my games? Now, wouldn't that look a little silly, the Pirates winning every game? Yes, it would. Besides, we have other things to do. A lot of time, you'll be on your own. But when you need us, we'll be in there pitching. Who's we? Me and my boys, the Heavenly Choir Nine. - Ball players? - Sure. - In heaven? - There's plenty of ball players in heaven. - What do you know. - But very few managers. How do your boys help? Oh, they sort of get behind your boys. Throw out a few quick hunches. Who's on your squad, the Heavenly Choir? We won't go into that. But I don't mind telling you... ... that we have a team batting average of 0.331. - Good club. - Not bad. When your boys played baseball down here, did I know any of them? Did I know you? We might have run into each other. On what base? Come on, a guy's got a right to know his own angel. Just give me a hint. What team were you with? - What position? - All right, lay off. Your broken-down ball club is winning ball games. What more do you want? I'll see you around. - No, wait. Listen. - Goodbye. Goodbye, and keep your nose out of things that don't concern you. All right, all right. Don't go away sore, huh? - Sorry, Mr. McGovern. - Oh, that's all right. Sit down, son. Well, I told Minelli I'd have dinner with him. Hey, when you made that catch today, how come you were so far to your right? I don't know. I had a feeling Johnson would hit it there. A left-hander? He never hit there in his life. I don't know, just call it a hunch. He's reading Shakespeare. - Go on. - The Tempest, I had it in English III. - He asked me to sit down with him. - Yeah, this morning he said hello. - I don't like it. It isn't natural. - He hasn't changed... ...he's just charging his batteries. Waiter? - Yes, sir? You do what I said? Yes, sir. - This is all right? - You're sure it's tough enough? Mr. Baxter, this was cut right from between the horns. - Hey, Saul. - Yeah? - Pull up a chair. - Thanks, but I'd like to digest my dinner. You did all right in the old days. Remember how we used to tear around? I don't wanna think about the old days. I don't wanna think about you. Do you mind? Your steak all right, sir? It's a wee bit tough, but it has a very nice flavor. When the Pirates played their next game in Pittsburgh... ... it started out just like any other afternoon. But events were taking shape in the bleachers section. Some orphan kids in on passes had come to cheer for the home team. It was a regular weekly event. - Who's pitching, Mr. Smalley? - Martin, Sister. Won four, lost six. Come on, Martin. Stay in there and keep it high. If he feeds it to Modbury low, he'll put it in our laps. - Oh, dear. - Don't worry about Martin, he's super. Let's go Marty, show them what you did in Boston! Pass the peanuts, dear. Fair. Fair? Fair? Fair ball? Why, thou knave, thou dolt! Thou hast eyes but seest not! You heard him, he said fair. Fie, fie upon you and a pox upon you too. Thou art blind, thou black-livered bat! Hey, Hamlet, blow. - Now, let's get it, come on. - Attaboy, Joe. The orphan kids cheered for the Pirates all through the game... ... but they were losing. It was the sixth inning. The score, 7 to 2 in favor of the Phillies. Things were looking bad for the Pirates. Then suddenly it happened. Look! Look at the angel behind Mandekic. What did you say, dear? And there's one behind Ronson too, and Rothberg and Rezende. There's one in the back of everybody. - One what? - Angel. Get her out of the sun. Come along, Bridget. - How do you feel, dear? - I feel fine. There they are again! - There are people sitting behind you. - But I see them, angels. - The kid is seeing angels. - Ain't nothing to what I've seen sometimes. - Look! - You'll get us in trouble. Bridget, that's enough. But I see them, Sister, big as life. In the outfield, in the infield... And there's one sitting on the scoreboard. Are you having trouble, Sister? Nothing I can't take care of, thank you. Do you want to leave again and not come back? - No, Sister. - Then let's have no more angels. The Pirates won again, 10 to 7. It was getting to be a habit. On the way out, I ran into Smalley, the park cop. He told me about the little girl in the bleachers... ... an orphan who saw angels. I had my story for the day. - Hello, Joe. - Good morning. - Yes? - I'd like to see a little girl. Come in, please. What age? About 8, I guess. That would be third grade, my class. Would you wait just a moment, please? Children, there's a gentleman here. He's looking for a little girl. They never adopt them with glasses. Why, Mr. McGovern. I think she's the one. I'd like to talk to you. I think you should talk to some of the others too. - We have some very nice girls here. - Well, I'm sure... What is it, Sister? Oh, Mr. McGovern. Well, how do you do? I came about the story in the paper. Yes, I read it. Is this the kid that...? Is she the little girl who saw the angels? Well, I just want to ask her a couple of questions. Bridget, wait in my office. Yes, Sister. Thank you, Sister. Mr. McGovern, will you come with me, please? Thank you. I'm Sister Edwitha, mother superior. How the paper got the story, I have no idea. But I think it's best for all concerned that we just forget it. Yes. Oh, Sister... Excuse me, but you don't know baseball, baseball fans. Thing like this gets started, it becomes a big megillah, and megillah's a sort of a... - Federal case. - Yeah. - Go on. - Well, the fans want answers... ...and I'm the manager, and I've got to supply them. A little girl sits too long in the sun without her hat on... ...and she thinks she sees something. Surely, you don't believe they were angels? Me? Would it do any harm just to talk to her? - I don't want the child excited. - Oh, I won't. I promise. Well, just one moment. - Oh, there's one other thing. - Yes? In the seventh inning yesterday afternoon... ...when Rothberg was on third, why didn't you try a squeeze? - They expected it. - Well, that's just it. They were expecting it. They knew you knew that they were expecting it... ...so you wouldn't pull it. Why, it would be completely unexpected. Rothberg's fast. He'd have made home easily. Yeah, well, Rothberg happens to have a bad ankle. He hurt it in practice. Oh, I'll light a candle for him. Will you just go along in? Excuse me. - Hi. - Hi. Sit down. You read this? It says yesterday you saw angels. Did you? Are you sure? Did you ever see angels before? - How did you know that they were angels? - They looked like angels. - With wings? - Well, sort of like wings. Not baseball uniforms? Sort of like uniforms. What color socks? I couldn't see. Their robes were too long. How many were there? One behind each player. The Pirates, I mean. One on the scoreboard and one in the bullpen. Was there one behind me? Is he there now? Who's that? - That's St. Gabriel. - Figures. Now, about these "sort of like uniforms"... ...was there any writing across the chest... ...like New York maybe, or Cardinals or Dodgers? It wasn't a whole name, just initials. Well, what initials? HC. - Heavenly Choir. - What? Nothing, nothing. Now, about these other kids, they didn't see anything, huh? Just you? Well, why was that, do you suppose? Maybe because I've been praying for you. - Me? You've been praying for me? - The whole team. How long have you been praying? Ever since you hit the slump. You must have been praying pretty hard, huh? Oh, yes. Every night and every morning... ...and sometimes during arithmetic. That's very nice. Thanks. Well, you needed help, didn't you? - We sure did. - I prayed to St. Gabriel personally. He's our patron saint. Good man, Gabriel. What's your name? Bridget White, 8 years old. - How long have you been here? - Eight years. I have to shove off now, Bridget. It has been nice talking to you. - So long. - So long. Oh, Bridget, about those prayers? Keep them coming, huh? He's nice, isn't he? No, no, no, you can't see her. I'm sorry. Now, please go away. - We won't hurt the kid. - The whole story is ridiculous. "No angels," says Sister Edwitha. Can we quote that? - Don't you dare. - Sister. - Don't you print that picture, young man. - Evening Post, Sister. It's a beauty. - Hi, how's the angels? - Look out, let me out of here, will you? Guffy? Oh, boy, there's Guffy. - How about a statement, Guffy? - No comment. No comment. Maybe he believes in them. How about it? What are you doing here? Where's your harp? Lay off me. If you want to know about angels, ask her. She wrote the story. Look out, now, I'm getting out of here. Now what did I do? Oh, nothing personal, eh? Well, Miss Household Hints. What can I do for you? You can listen while I say I'm sorry. Honestly, I had no idea that story would raise such a fuss. If I had, I never would have... Oh, what a mess this place is. I never would have written it. Your mistake was showing up at the orphanage. - The papers will make a monkey out of you. - Goat, monkey, I'm used to it. If I were you, I'd protect myself, McGovern. Make a statement. - To you? - Why not? Miss Paige, you're ruining my carpet. Don't be afraid of mud stains. They're very easy to take out. Here, do you mind? Stuff them with newspapers, turn on the oven and put them underneath. - What kind of a parrot is this? - It's a parrot. - Does it talk? - Yes. - Did you teach it? - Yes. Scratch my head, please. Well, he's very polite, isn't he? Why shouldn't he be? What else does he say? "Hello," "How've you been?" And "goodbye." Joe, say goodbye to the lady. - Goodbye. - That's wonderful. But doesn't he ever...? Well, with you teaching him... Miss Paige, a man only swears when he's annoyed. Joe never annoys me. We're very happy together, Joe and I. Well, frankly, I don't see how you can be in a shambles like this. How do you ever find anything? There isn't even a place for a guest to sit down. There might be an idea in that. Well, you can't get rid of me just yet, so you might as well make the best of it. You know, I've always wondered what baseball players did on rainy afternoons. Entertain lady reporters who drop in uninvited. Well, you're not being very entertaining. What about the story of your life, McGovern, while my shoes are drying? Were you always so tough? Even when you were little? You had a boyhood, of course. Tilton Falls, Wisconsin. I looked you up. - Sounds like a nice little town. - It was. Four pool halls, five saloons and the biggest pants factory in the state. - Did you play ball there? - I sold peanuts. - You're folks weren't very well off? - My folks did fine. They had one of the saloons. And one day they gave you a ball and a bat, and that's how you got started. Not exactly. I used to throw snowballs at the cop on the corner. It was a long block and a long winter, so I finished up a third baseman. Any more down-memory-lane stuff you'd like? No. Are you cooking something? - My shoes. - Yeah, they're kind of crisp. I said under the oven, not in it. - Of all the stupid, asinine... - Not in front of Joe. How do you suggest I get home? Well, I could loan you a pair of my shoes, or I'll call a cab. - Where do you live? - Delaney Street. And how do I get to the cab? I weigh 110 pounds. When the cleaning woman comes, tell her to burn the old papers. Put an Air Wick in to get rid of that cigar smell... - I like cigar smoke. - Scour the ashtrays with ammonia. To take the ink stains off that burgundy chair... - What chair? - Burgundy. She can call me at the office, extension 1173. - Will you open the door? - There. I could be a big help to you. Just what I always needed, a girl with turned-up shoes, 110. - A hundred and 15. - Yeah. Here, take these to Delaney Street. If I took her to the ball game and we sat in the grandstand out of the sun... ...she wouldn't see any angels. I'd write the story just that way, and that'd be the end of it. All right. Bridget. Bridget! - Bridget White, Miss Paige. - Hello. Would you like to go to the ball game with her this afternoon? Can I? - Will we speak to Mr. McGovern? - Well, we can wave. All right, run along. Comb your hair, put on a hat. With a brim. Bridget and I got pretty chummy during the game, exchanging girlish confidences. The boys in the press box kept showing up... ... with a steady stream of hot dogs and Eskimo Pies... ... and asking Bridget if she saw any angels. Vanilla okay? - Oh, thank you. - Mac, I think that's enough. How's it going, honey? The angels working yet? Well, now, you'll let us know, won't you? Oh, Jenny, how about dinner after the game? Oh, thanks, but I'm testing new recipe tonight. - Well, have fun. - Bye. - Do you live alone? - All by myself. - That must be nice. - Why? I mean, instead of having a lot of kids around all the time. Kids are such a bother, aren't they? - It depends. - I always say, why not live alone... ...if you can live alone? Take like if you have someone around the house all the time... ...you couldn't even come to the ball game when you wanted. Not unless I brought her with me. - What's the matter? - They're warming up. - Who? - The angels. Oh, now, Bridget, no. There they come, out on the field. - There's no one. Nothing. - Look, don't you see? You couldn't possibly see anything there, do you hear me? But I do. There's one behind every player. Oh, no. Come on, get out of here, quick. They're going. Jenny. Jenny, wait a minute. Honey. - Jenny, what's the story? - We're leaving, that's all. Honey, did you see any angels? - How many were there, Bridget? - Nine. Nine! Reynolds here. Take this. "The angels were out in force today," said little Bridget White. - Wait in here, please. - Thank you. Hey, I hear the kid's sick. - What did you do to her? - Nothing. I think it was just the ice cream and the four frankfurters. Nice food for a kid. You ought to know better. Why'd you want to drag her out there? I didn't drag her, she was dying to go. - I only wanted to help. - Help? Fine help. "McGovern's Angels Strike Again." What you trying to do, laugh me out of baseball? Mr. McGovern, I haven't laughed since the day I met you. Were they boy angels or girl angels? Boy angels. Did they look like people... ...or did they look like the pictures of angels on our little prayer cards? Prayer cards. Sore, huh? What color robe did they wear? White? You're sure they were angels? They weren't groundkeepers? Or they were peanut vendors? Angels. Sister? Mr. McGovern and Miss Paige, they'd like to see Bridget. Oh, please. Can I? I don't see why not. Organically, she's fine. Just a little upset stomach is all. But emotionally, I'm not so sure. You really think that we should...? He can do no harm, he's an excellent man. Bridget, I don't want to alarm you, but we're going to call another doctor. He won't give you any medicine, he'll just ask a few questions. - You understand, don't you? - Sure. You want to find out if I'm wacky. Doctor, I'm sure it's not necessary. Only a few minutes, please. Now, don't you go upsetting her. - How're you feeling? - Much better, thank you. Oh, you just ate too much junk? It was the nicest time I ever had. I brought you a present. - Oh, thank you. You shouldn't have. - Oh, it's nothing. It's beautiful. Yeah, it jumps, too, if you just squeeze this little thing here at the end, see? - It talks too. - Imagine. It's just a kid's kangaroo. I'll take it back... ...and get you a real toy. - Oh, no, please. I love it. - But will you come to see me again anyway? - Yeah, sure. Every day, as long as you're sick. Miss Paige too? Me too. Now, I think you better get some sleep. Yeah, good night, Bridget. Every day while I'm sick? - Of course. - Sure. Good night. This story became a national issue. Everyone was talking about angels. There were newsreel interviews with baseball celebrities. Joe DiMaggio, Yankee center fielder. What do you think, Joe? If McGovern needs any extra angels, we'd be glad to give him a couple of ours. Ty Cobb, one of baseball's all-time greats. What do you think, Mr. Cobb? Well, all I can say is that this game of baseball has certainly changed. Songwriter Harry Ruby, composer of "Three Little Words"... ... America's number one baseball fan. I predicted this at the start of the season when I said, "Heaven help the Pirates." Bing Crosby, part owner of the Pittsburgh Pirates. You know, I think this angel stuff's pretty sound. Lots of times folks think someone's watching over them. Thanks. Whenever the team was in town, McGovern paid a visit to the orphanage. And he made good his promise to bring a new present. Now, if you'll just go back to your seats so everybody can see. Just turn this knob, see? Now watch. He's got that chinlock again. Yanking his head back. The Monster is trying to put on a leg-crusher. - Very educational. - Yeah. When the Pirates climbed into third place, the newspapers laid off McGovern. The angels were completely forgotten. Tell him to bunt. Wait, let him hit away. Stay in there, Lou. Safe. - That was a nice switch. - Just a hunch. - Happy birthday, McGovern. - Well, what goes on? - A party. - Yeah, but how did you know? Bridget looked it up in The Sporting News. - Hello. - Oh, hi, Joe. I didn't throw out a single thing you'll ever miss. - Don't you like it? - Oh, sure. Sure, I like it. Hey, a cake and everything. Jennifer made it. I turned on the oven. What'd you know, a regular birthday party. I haven't had one since I was 10. Believe me, that's a long time ago. - It sure is. The book said that... - Never mind, honey. I'll tell you what, on you're birthday I'll give you a party. - When is it? - Well, I'm not sure exactly. But the home picked October 5th. That's the only day they had open. Look, you help me in the kitchen, and Bridget... ...why don't you give Joe a piece of the celery, huh? Thattagirl. I hope you don't mind. She's getting a kick out of it. No, no, no, why should I mind? Would you hand me the salt, please? Hey, what smells? So good, I mean. Oh, "Ragout of veal a la brignole." Well, fancy stuff. You eat too many steaks, McGovern. Change will be good for you. Yeah, brignole smells great. You know, I often wonder who dreams up all these things. - "Mrs. Harkrider Oates of Rawson Avenue." - Is that so? Her favorite recipe, guaranteed to keep men at home. Now the butter, please. - Well, we won again today, didn't we? - Yeah, we did. I suppose you realize that we're only five games out of first place? - I've heard some talk. - Isn't it wonderful? Just a few weeks ago we were last. - Wonder how it happened. - Angels. Parsley, please. The green stuff, the parsley. Right there. Thank you. I have a different theory, you know. - You have? - I think it's you. - Me? - Sure, the Pirates are playing as a team. Why don't you take your apron off, honey? Because you're not losing your temper, and yelling your head off... ...and swinging on people. Sister Edwitha says, "Never swing on people. - You should turn the other cheek." - There's two schools of thought on that. My school recommends getting in the first punch. Sister Edwitha says, "Turn the other cheek." - You see? - Okay, okay, I suppose she knows best. Now, you can carry this. Bridget, you take the peas. Now, be careful, they're hot. There. Look out! You'll sit on the presents. - That one's mine. - I'll save this till last. - Well. - Not too loud, is it? No, no, yellow and green's not loud. Now... Well, what do you know, a baseball. It's not just an ordinary baseball. Jennifer sent it into the clubhouse and all the Pirates signed it. See? All except Mr. Hellman. - He was in the shower. - Imagine, an autographed ball. It's just what I wanted. Well... ...come on, let's try this. Well, what's the matter? - What about grace? - Grace who? Oh, grace. Yeah, grace. I almost forgot. You lead off. Oh, Lord, make us truly thankful for these thy gifts... ...which we are about to receive. Amen. You know, I'm hungry. I hope I fixed enough of everything. Cooking for myself the way I do I'm never exactly sure how much I should... - Oh, don't eat that. - No, no, it's delicious. Oh, no don't. It's poison. Oh, I've never in all my life... Mrs. Harkrider Oates of Rawson Avenue is gonna hear from me in the morning. - Keeps men at home, does it? - Maybe she means permanently. I can't understand it, though. Unless that olive oil... Could it have been rancid? How long have you had it? - What olive oil? - The olive oil in the cupboard. In the bottle in the cupboard. - Neat's-foot oil. - What? Not olive oil, neat's-foot oil. I rub it in my glove. Keeps the leather soft. Well, of all the... What's it doing in the cupboard? I gotta put it someplace. It's wonderful for gloves. Well, it certainly doesn't do anything for veal. The peas are fine. Well, you can't make a meal on peas. Oh, I just feel awful. - I should have looked at the bottle. - Now, wait, wait. Don't lose your head. This is my birthday... ...and I'm not going to have it spoiled by Mrs. Harkrider Oates of Rawson Avenue. How's that, all right? Well, well, well, this is a cozy little scene. - Birthday party? - Yeah, yeah, keep moving. I don't like to intrude, but may I have your autograph, Mr. McGovern, on a check? I got the tab today from my dentist. Repairing bridgework, $ 180. Just send me the bill, first of the month. I think you'll like his work. Look at my... Will you stop? Will you stop? I thought you'd like to see what you're paying for. I beg your pardon. - Look, blow, huh? Please. - Let me explain. You see, a few weeks ago, Mr. McGovern, in his usual charming, inimitable style... ...put the slug on me. Didn't you, Guffy? - Would you step outside for a moment? - I'd be delighted. McGovern. Oh, sure, sure. Don't worry. - Yeah? What? - Look, I'm having a little birthday. - Don't louse it up. - No. You had a couple of drinks, you feel good. - I feel fine. Great shape. - Sure, be a nice guy. Go on home. Why should I be a nice guy for you? Give me one reason. - Nobody's bothering you tonight. - Nobody will. If any party tries to bother me, I'll hook him in the mouth. Now, wait a minute... I'll take her in. You stay where you are. - You'll have to carry her. - Up we go. Thank you. Come in. Right this way, please. - Oh, no, no, I just... - Please. No, no, no. Right up to bed now, dear. - Good night. - Good night. That's a sweet kid, that one there. - Did you have a good party? - Nicest time I ever had. - Happy birthday. - Well, thanks. What happens to the kids here, Sister? - What do you mean? - Well, do they stay here forever... ...or doesn't anybody ever come around and, you know? Adopt them? Occasionally. Not so often as we'd like. They all seem to want tiny babies now. I'd be afraid. Were you thinking of adopting Bridget? Who, me? No, I just... I couldn't, could I? Well, it would present certain problems. There's no law against it, of course. But the court usually doesn't permit children to go to unmarried people. Yeah, that would be a problem. - I'll pray on it. - Thanks. It's not that I couldn't afford to keep her. I've got some dough. I just never had anybody to spend it on... ...but a kid like that ought to have somebody. Well, like a father. Not that I'm any shining example of behavior. There have been some times and... Well, baseball's a pretty tough game... ...and a lot of people say that l... Well, maybe you've heard. I sat in the back of first base one day. Oh, well, I don't have to tell you, but that's all over, believe me. It's a thing of the past. I keep my mouth shut... ...and my hands in my pockets. No language, not even one fight. You see, Sister, we were in this restaurant and there was this fella... Good night, Sister. Good night, McGovern. - Oh, thank you. - Wait for me, will you? She's really a sweet child. She just adores you. - Have you ever thought of adopting her? - Who, me? Well, I don't see anybody else around here. Oh, don't be silly. What would I want with a kid around the house? Besides, a thing like that... Well, it presents certain problems. Well, this is where I live. What kind of problems? Problems. It has been a wonderful evening, especially the main event. Bet that's the first black eye you've had in years. You travel around with me, I'll fix you good. Is my face on crooked or something? Well, yours is. You'd better go home and fix it. Don't believe that beefsteak routine, that's just superstition. What it needs is hot and cold applications, preferably Epsom salts. Look, you make a move, I'll make a move, huh? A long time ago, I played third base in Minneapolis. There was a girl in Saint Paul, the nicest girl I ever knew. We did a lot of talking and I made some big plans... ...but they didn't include a certain shortstop... ...the one she finally married. It was quite a blow. I can imagine. I guess I've been taking it out on everybody else ever since. Good night. Good night. Sister? - Is it always right to turn the other cheek? - Certainly. Why? Well, Mr. McGovern did last night, and he got sloughed something awful. The meek shall inherit the earth. I never missed a game after that. In September, the Pirates met the Giants in the final series. They needed three straight games to win the pennant. Stay there, boy. Make him pitch to you. Two and two, boy. Make him pitch to you. Guffy! - How do you feel? - It's nothing. I don't feel a thing. Did it again, didn't I? Why did I have to go and wave at you? It's nothing. We won, didn't we? Where am I having dinner? I mean, where are you having dinner? I mean us. You're not going anyplace except home. I've got a cab. Hi, Guffy. Nice catch. You okay? Any injuries? No, no. I've been hit in the head 20 times. I feel fine. Did you see any angels? I've never seen an angel but I talked to one. - What did you say? You speak to angels? - Certainly. - Can we quote you? - Why not? An angel sits in back of me in the dugout. - Oh, Guffy. - Where they running? Oh, let's get out of here. Sister? Isn't it wonderful? I see them and Guffy talks to them. Believe me, gentle listener, there is more to this than meets the eye. Mr. McGovern's antics, on the field and off... ...are no longer a source of amusement, but a basis for serious inquiry. His latest peccadillo, an admission to the press that he converses with angels... For heaven's sakes, you were hit on the head. You could say anything. - is unworthy of the high position he now commands. Proof beyond doubt that Mr. McGovern is, to put it charitably... ...emotionally unstable and guilty of conduct detrimental to organized baseball. Mr. McGovern's supporters claim his peculiar statement was made... ...after being hit in the head with a line drive... ...therefore, he is not responsible. He admits it. I would like to ask Mr. McGovern a question. Was he responsible seven weeks ago in Boston? How about it, McGovern? Seven weeks ago, were you or were you not of sound mind and limb? Beside me in the studio tonight is a man who can answer these questions. - Would you tell us your name, please? - Patrick J. Finley. What is your occupation, Mr. Finley? I'm a groundkeeper at Braves Field, up in Boston. Will you please tell us what you saw in Braves Field about seven weeks ago? - Well, I see Mr. McGovern. - What time? I don't know. After the game. Where was he? Sitting on second base. And what was he doing? He was talking. Talking to whom? I don't know. There wasn't anybody there. And when he was sitting on second base... ...talking to somebody who wasn't there, where was he looking? Up. - What did he say? - I don't know exactly. I couldn't hear everything. I was in the dugout. But one thing he said was, "I have a right to know the name of my own angel." He said that, "my own angel"? Yes, sir. Then he said again: - "Don't go away mad." - Thank you, Mr. Finley. I ask you, ladies and gentlemen and Mr. Commissioner... ... is this the act of a normal, reasonable man... ... to hang around second base at night and talk to angels? Much as I hesitate to say this... ...I think that Mr. McGovern should take a long, long... ... perhaps permanent rest. The Pirates chalked up a victory today, squeaking through by one lone run. Playing uninspired ball, they came to life in the final frame... ... to sneak a run, taking advantage... Nice going, boys. What's eating you? So we won a ball game, so hooray. I tell you, it's making me jumpy. Angels. Angels. Every time I go after a ball, I'm afraid I'll trip over something. - For two cents, I'd quit right now. - Shut up. You watch McGovern looking over his shoulder every two seconds? It's scary. For all we know, this guy is off his rocker. - He might even be dangerous. - Lay off. Lay off McGovern. I don't care, he's trying to be a right guy. Your job is to got out and play ball. Keep your mouth shut, understand? - Okay, Saul. Okay. - Watch it, here he comes. And here's a flash that was just handed to me. Arnold P. Hapgood, commissioner of baseball, will arrive in Pittsburgh tonight. He is here to investigate Guffy McGovern. Well, that sounds like bad news for Pittsburgh. With the pennant hanging on tomorrow's game... ... I'm afraid the Pirates and Mr. McGovern are in a pretty tough spot. The Pirates played mighty shaky ball out there this afternoon. With this hanging over their heads, there's no telling what they'll do. It's about my boys. They're getting nervous. Not that I blame them, but if it keeps on like this... ...they're apt to come apart tomorrow. I thought maybe you might have something to suggest. Nervous, huh? I wouldn't worry much about it. It's only natural at a time like this. - How are you doing? - Me? Oh, great. I'm in the pink. One game away from a pennant, they're trying to throw me in the loony bin. I don't sleep nights, I don't eat. Just to make matters worse, I'm fresh out of pitchers. - Oh, that so? - You know, I used four this afternoon. - Who do I start tomorrow? - Yeah. Well, I wouldn't worry about it. Excuse me, you got nothing to worry about. You're all set. - With me, it's a little different. - Yeah? Yeah, Martin's got a bad arm, Clarke's on the sick list. Hellman's old, he wouldn't last two innings. Yeah, Saul's pretty tired. Even I couldn't make him look good. Sixteen years is a lot of pitching in the major leagues. It's his last. They wanna send him to the minors. That won't make any difference, he won't be around next season. - What? - We're signing him up in the spring. - Saul? - Yeah. Everybody gets to play up here sooner or later. But, Saul... We were friends. At least, we used to be. Hellman was a great pitcher once. He pitched a two-hitter in a World Series, you know. Yes, I know. I was there. Excuse me. - Good night. - Good night, Guffy. This way, commissioner. Gentlemen, I have an appointment with all parties concerned tomorrow at 9:00. Until I hear all the evidence, I have nothing to say. The Pirates are playing their last game... ...tomorrow for the pennant. - I'm aware of that. Think this is the proper time for the investigation? My dear lady, any time's the proper time when the situation warrants it. Baseball is for the people who support it. My desk is piled high with letters. From New York, sir? New York and other places. Yes. You think that Guffy McGovern has flipped his lid, right? Gentlemen, the hearing takes place tomorrow morning. The hearing was like a courtroom trial. The investigation hinged on two points: One, are there such things as angels? And two, is it possible to talk to them? How long have you been practicing psychiatry, Dr. Blane? Eighteen years. You've just heard Mr. McGovern's account... ...of how a group of angels helped his ball team. As a psychiatrist, how did his story impress you? Belief in celestial beings is a carryover from mankind's ignorance... ...and fear of his environment. Originally, man worshipped the sun, the moon, stones, trees. But with the rise of religion as we know it today... ...man felt the need of a closer alliance with the Supreme Being... ...and so he invented the angel. - Invented? - Precisely. Just as a hurt child will run to its parent... ...so will a man turn for comfort to a belief in angels. And when this belief takes the form of actual conversation with angels... ...what is your professional opinion? Well, I prefer not to say... ...but I'd be happy to see you, Mr. McGovern, in my office. I think that'll be all, doctor, and thank you. - Mr. Commissioner. - Yes? I'd like to introduce three witness for the defense. Yes, yes, of course. Gentlemen. Mr. Commissioner, I do not know any of these gentlemen. My name is Guffy McGovern. - Dr. Eustace Danforth, Trinity Church. - How do you do? - Rabbi Allen Hahn, Temple Israel. - How do you do? Father O'Houlihan, Church of Our Lady, queen of the angels. Gentlemen, just make yourselves comfortable. Mr. Commissioner? I suppose you gentlemen know the general idea in the back of this inquiry. Well, what do you think? Do you suppose there might be angels? Right to left. Lead the way, Dr. Danforth. To deny the existence of angels is to deny the word of the Holy Bible... ...which is specific on the subject. From the ancient Hebrew text, we have the words "benei elohim"... ...the sons of God. "Kedoshim," the holy ones, and mala... Mala... - How do you pronounce that? - Malachim. Thank you, Rabbi. "Malachim," the messengers. All of these may be translated "angels." You'll check me on that, Rabbi Hahn? It was an angel who guided the children of Israel to the promised land. Behold, I send an angel before thee to keep thee in the way. In Psalms, again, we find an angel the protector of man. The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear him... ...and delivereth them. Father O'Houlihan? Seeing as how there are coveys of angels... ...flitting through the pages of the Holy Scriptures, Old and New Testaments... ...I don't see how I can get out of saying I believe in them. - I imagine the commissioner does too. - Oh, please, just leave me out of this. - Mr. Commissioner? - Yes. Father, would you also believe that they play baseball? What's that? Mr. McGovern has testified that angels helped his team. Well, now, considering all the great wonders that angels have performed... ...Id be much surprised if they couldn't play baseball... ...providing they had a mind to. But would they? With all respect to your cloth... ...is it likely one of your angels or a group of angels... ...would lend support to a man like Guffy McGovern? Is it possible that angels would aid and comfort such a man? If a man have 100 sheep and one of them should go astray... ...doth he not leave the 99 in the mountains... ...and go and seek that which has gone astray? Matthew, 18:12. And besides, the Lord isn't as small-minded as some of us mortals. And now, Mr. Commissioner... ...I had a short talk with Rabbi Hahn in the elevator... ...we both discovered we're seeing a ball game at 1:30. - So if you don't mind? - No, of course not. - You'd better hurry. - Thank you, sir. Thank you, gentlemen. Thank you. If Dr. Blane would care to see me in my office, I'd be very happy indeed. Hey, fellas, where are you sitting? Anything further that you would like to add, Mr. McGovern? Nothing. Gentlemen, I have listened to both sides of this argument and frankly, I'm baffled. I'm sure we'd all like to believe in angels. I know I would. But if only I had just one tiny bit of concrete evidence. However... - Mr. Commissioner. - Yes? This is Bridget White. She wants to testify for Mr. McGovern. Mr. Commissioner, you were set to make a decision. Let's get on with it. I don't want anyone hammering away at this kid. Sister, will you please get her out of here? If the commissioner wants to hear about angels... ...he ought to ask someone who's seen them. Mr. McGovern, what are you afraid of? All right. You just sit right down here. - What is your name, little girl? - Bridget White, 8 years old. Oh, yes. And where do you live, Bridget? St. Gabriel's Home for Orphan Girls. - You believe in angels, don't you? - Doesn't everyone? No. No, they don't. But I saw them, twice. And where did you think you saw these angels? In the ballpark. They were helping the Pirates. You're quite sure about that? You wouldn't just make up a story, would you? Oh, no. It's bad to lie about anything. But if you lied about angels, I guess that'd be real trouble. Mr. Commissioner, may I question the witness? Certainly, certainly, certainly. Now, Bridget, when you saw your angels, what were they doing? Well, there was one standing behind Mr. McGovern. But you didn't see him talk to Mr. McGovern? No. But I know he must have. - Why? - Because Mr. McGovern said so. You think that one of your angels, one of these heavenly messengers... ...would talk to a man like Mr. McGovern? Of course. Any angel would be proud to talk to a nice man like Mr. McGovern. Quiet. Quiet, please. Is that all, sir? I hope we're not going to accept this as testimony? - The child is prejudiced. - What are you talking about? I will decide what is evidence here. Isn't it true that you tried to adopt this child? Haven't you recently made a declaration of this to the Orphan's Court? - Suppose I did? What about it? - Why, Mr. McGovern. Nothing definite. I don't know if the court will let me have her. You don't just walk in and adopt a child. - There's problems. - There's no problem here, Guffy. Nevertheless, you wanted to adopt her. Oh, that's nice. It's touching. The little girl who saw the angels now stands up to testify for Mr. McGovern. But isn't she actually testifying for papa? Guffy! - Come on, stop that. - Stop that. Order. - I said order. - Don't do it, Guffy! Guffy, stop it! Guffy! Guffy, don't. Make him stop. Guffy, don't. Gentlemen, I think, in view of the facts... ...all things considered... ...this case is dismissed. - Hey, fellas, what's with Guffy? - Read about it. - He got all his marbles? - Sure, sure. Sure. He was okay all the time. He ain't no more crazy than I am. Hey, Guffy. Here you are. That was a nice little fracas you staged, McGovern. Quite a show. Look, you heard what the fella said. What else could I do? You had no right to slug him. I warned you about that twice. Okay, okay. Keep your shirt... Keep your wings on, huh? - You talking to me? - Just stick to your driving, will you? - I only hit him once or twice. - You completely destroyed his bridgework. - All right, I'm sorry. - Well, you ought to be. Because when you busted that bridgework, you also busted our agreement. - What do you mean? - We're through with you, Guffy. From now on, you're on your own. Please, don't make jokes. I didn't say nothing. It's no joke. We're all finished. A pennant's hanging on that game today. You can't walk out on me now. I need you. It's kind of a shame, isn't it? Don't worry, you've been on your own a lot the last eight weeks. I don't like to be on my own. - I'm not happy on my own. - You used to be. I'll let you in on a little secret. You've learned something, Guffy. You don't know it yet, but you've learned... ... that there's more important things in life than winning ball games. - We're a little proud of you. - Don't be proud of me. Just be at Forbes Field at 1:30. That's all I want. Sorry, can't make it. Tell that cab driver to slow down. He's making me nervous. It's a dirty trick. Who'd ever think that an angel would stoop to such a low-down, dirty... - So long, Guffy. - No, listen... - Good luck, boy. - Hey, wait. Come back here a minute, will you? - How much do I owe you? - Nothing. - You decided who's going to pitch yet? - What? The boys in the press box are asking. They wanna know who's gonna pitch. Hellman. - What? - I said Hellman. Let's do it, boy. Batteries for today's game: For New York, Barberry catching, Toley pitching. For Pittsburgh, Baxter catching, Hellman pitching. No, not Hellman! - Hellman? - And they say McGovern's not crazy. - Take care of the bullpen, will you, boy? - Yeah, sure. - Hi. - Do you see anything, honey? Not yet. Play ball. Giants come to bat now with the score still nothing to nothing. Hellman has managed to hang on for four innings... ...but it's just a question of time. Strike. And it's over the left-field wall for a home run. - Safe. - There's another hit. A very close decision down there, but he's safe. See any angels yet? - You're out. - You're out. Out at first for a double play to end the inning. Score: New York 1, Pittsburgh nothing. Mr. Hellman coming in off the mound, looks like a very tired man. Come on, Vince boy, let's go to work. Get a hit, boy. - You're out. - All right, only one away. Lay into it, Tony boy. Lay into it. All right, Lou, get in there, boy. Let's go. Let's go. Come on, now, Lou. Knock it out of the park. Mandekic pulls up safe at second. Two away and Rube Ronson coming up. Rube hasn't had a hit yet. All right, Rube. Let's get some runs, boy. A long, hard-hit ball that bounced off the scoreboard for a home run. Attaboy, Ruben. That's one for Milwaukee High. - All right, let's get out. Come on. - Let's go. - How's it going? - I guess I can get three of them out. Here we are at the top of the ninth, the final frame... ...with a score still Pittsburgh 2, New York 1. Hellman is taking the mound for Pittsburgh... ...though he seems to be tiring badly. This is the Giants' last chance to tag him and maybe they will. One away, boy. One away. Hellman's touching that arm again. Seems to be giving him some trouble. Either it's pain or those Giant averages. Take your base. And he takes his base. Hit by a pitched ball. Well, Hellman seems to be losing control in there. Leaping high in the air and spearing the ball. Two out, a man on first. They're getting to him, Guffy. He'll never make it. Ball one. Take him out! Take him out! Get him out of there! Take him out! Two men on now, first and second. Two away. The fans are yelling to take Hellman out. Go on, take him out! Get a pitcher! Pull the bum out! Get him out of there! Take him out! Get him out of there! Safe. You're safe. The throw was not in time and all the runners are safe. Three men on base, two out. And those Pirate fans are really mad now. A hit could win this ball game. - Go on, Hellman! Goodbye! - Get him out! - Get him out of there! - Go to the showers, bub! Get him out of there! Take him out! Yank the fool! Yank him! McGovern has finally made up his mind to take Hellman out of the game... ...but it may be a little late. What do you think, Saul? Can you do it? I'm tired, but I'd sure like to try. Get that bum out of there! Get a pitcher! Get a pitcher! It's your ball game. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. McGovern has just pulled the bonehead play of his career. He's leaving Hellman in. Coming up to the plate now is Dobbie Roscalla... ...who leads the league in runs batted in. If he bats one now, Mr. McGovern had better leave town. Strike! A swing and a miss. Oh, if he ever connected with that one... Strike! Strike two. Roscalla steps up to the plate again. It only takes one to hit it. Hellman's taking his time. He's a very tired pitcher right now. - Thanks, Guffy. - For what? You're getting a good man. Well, there you have it. Final score: Pittsburgh 2, New York 1. And of course, a pennant for the Pirates. Well, I hope Mr. McGovern's angels are pleased with the way things turned out. Are you happy up there, little angels? Why don't you shut up? It was really true, wasn't it? Well, somebody must have helped me, not only on the ball field either. Look what I got. I wonder who they were. Walter Johnson, John McGraw, Christy Mathewson... ...Eddie Collins, Lou Gehrig, Babe Ruth. Great names, great guys. Play ball. ---the end---