The Difference Between Hitting .250 .300 by Ron Shelton Lyrics
NUKE: Did you hear what I said? I'm going to the Show!
CRASH: Do you know what the difference between hitting .250 and .300 is? It's twenty five hits. Twenty five hits in five hundred at-bats is fifty points, okay? There's six months in a season, that's about twenty five weeks. That means if you get just one extra flare a week, just one — a gork, you get a ground ball, you get a-- you get a *ground ball with eyes*, you get a dying quail... Just one more dying quail a week and you're in Yankee Stadium.
Nuke looks at Crash blankly.
CRASH (CON'T): You still don't know what I'm talking about, do you? Get the hell out of here.
NUKE: Alright. Fuck. I'll send you a postcard.
CRASH: Send me a postcard? Hеy, I made it!
NUKE: You made it... you made shit.
Nukе walks away.
CRASH: Hey. Hey!
Crash throws a pool ball at Nuke, shattering a mirror in the bar.
NUKE: Are you crazy?
SANDY: Hey man what the hell's wrong with you?
CRASH: I'll be alright, I'm—
SANDY: No, I'm not talking 'bout—I'm talking 'bout my mirror.
Crash marches towards Nuke.
CRASH: Shit, I'm sorry, alright? Hey!
NUKE: I'm not gonna fight you, man. I'm not gonna fight you.
CRASH: What do you mean you're not gonna fight me, you fuck?
Crash pushes Nuke.
NUKE: Fuck? Why am I a fuck?
CRASH: Why are you a fuck?
NUKE: Why am I a fuck!?
CRASH: 'Cus you got talent. I got brains but you got talent. See this right arm?
Crash grabs Nuke's arm and waves it around.
CRASH (CON'T): Worth a million bucks a year. All my limbs put together aren't worth seven cents a pound.
NUKE: What are you talking about? You're a great catcher.
CRASH: I'm a great catcher? I'm a great catcher?
NUKE: Just fucking forget it.
Nuke tries to walk away.
CRASH: Hey.
Crash shoves Nuke in the back.
CRASH (CON'T): Hey, meat!
Nuke punches Crash with his left fist and drops him to the ground.
NUKE: Damn! I didn't mean to hit you, man.
CRASH: You hurt my eye... Ow.
NUKE: Sorry.
CRASH: Well did ya hit me with your right hand or d'ya hit me with your left?
Nuke looks at Crash confused.
CRASH (CON'T): Huh? Did ya hit me with your right hand, or did ya hit me with your left?
NUKE: My left.
CRASH: Good! That's good. When ya get in a fight with a drunk you don't hit him with your pitching hand. God, I can't keep giving you these free lessons. So quit screwing around and help me up.
Nuke helps Crash up.
NUKE: You look great, man.
CRASH: Do you know what the difference between hitting .250 and .300 is? It's twenty five hits. Twenty five hits in five hundred at-bats is fifty points, okay? There's six months in a season, that's about twenty five weeks. That means if you get just one extra flare a week, just one — a gork, you get a ground ball, you get a-- you get a *ground ball with eyes*, you get a dying quail... Just one more dying quail a week and you're in Yankee Stadium.
Nuke looks at Crash blankly.
CRASH (CON'T): You still don't know what I'm talking about, do you? Get the hell out of here.
NUKE: Alright. Fuck. I'll send you a postcard.
CRASH: Send me a postcard? Hеy, I made it!
NUKE: You made it... you made shit.
Nukе walks away.
CRASH: Hey. Hey!
Crash throws a pool ball at Nuke, shattering a mirror in the bar.
NUKE: Are you crazy?
SANDY: Hey man what the hell's wrong with you?
CRASH: I'll be alright, I'm—
SANDY: No, I'm not talking 'bout—I'm talking 'bout my mirror.
Crash marches towards Nuke.
CRASH: Shit, I'm sorry, alright? Hey!
NUKE: I'm not gonna fight you, man. I'm not gonna fight you.
CRASH: What do you mean you're not gonna fight me, you fuck?
Crash pushes Nuke.
NUKE: Fuck? Why am I a fuck?
CRASH: Why are you a fuck?
NUKE: Why am I a fuck!?
CRASH: 'Cus you got talent. I got brains but you got talent. See this right arm?
Crash grabs Nuke's arm and waves it around.
CRASH (CON'T): Worth a million bucks a year. All my limbs put together aren't worth seven cents a pound.
NUKE: What are you talking about? You're a great catcher.
CRASH: I'm a great catcher? I'm a great catcher?
NUKE: Just fucking forget it.
Nuke tries to walk away.
CRASH: Hey.
Crash shoves Nuke in the back.
CRASH (CON'T): Hey, meat!
Nuke punches Crash with his left fist and drops him to the ground.
NUKE: Damn! I didn't mean to hit you, man.
CRASH: You hurt my eye... Ow.
NUKE: Sorry.
CRASH: Well did ya hit me with your right hand or d'ya hit me with your left?
Nuke looks at Crash confused.
CRASH (CON'T): Huh? Did ya hit me with your right hand, or did ya hit me with your left?
NUKE: My left.
CRASH: Good! That's good. When ya get in a fight with a drunk you don't hit him with your pitching hand. God, I can't keep giving you these free lessons. So quit screwing around and help me up.
Nuke helps Crash up.
NUKE: You look great, man.