Scene 2: Kilgore’s Dressing Room
(Kilgore’s dressing room is the scene of wild confusion and hilarity as he is besieged by reporters, photographers, etc.)
Manager: Okay, okay, boys, you got enough now. Let the kid take his shower — go on, Johnnie, git into the shower-room.
Kilgore: Okay, you ol’ lady. (He laughs and goes into the shower.)
Manager: Lemme turn it on for you, Johnnie. (He turns the shower on.) How you feelin’, kid?
Kilgore: I knew I could take that palooka, Louie! Comes October, I’ll be Champ, Louie — the big cheese!
Manager: You’ll mopolize that mugg, Johnnie — get yer trunks off—
Mousie: (Enters with a leer) Hey, Johnnie! Johnnie Kilgore.
Kilgore: (Laughing) Yeah? (Abruptly.) Oh! Mousie.
Manager: (Contemptuously) Who let you in, you small-time chiseler? Git ahdda here! Go on — grab the air!
Mousie: (Slyly) You wan’ I should grab de air, Johnnie?
Kilgore: Louie. Lemme talk to this guy — alone.
Manager: You’re boss t’night, Johnnie. But why you should wanna chin wid a cheap Broadway chis’ler... the Mouse! (He turns to leave.) Ain’t even big enough ta be called Rat! (The Manager exits, slamming the show-erroom door.)
Mousie: (Softly) Turn off dat shower, Johnnie.
Kilgore: (Hotly) You tellin’ me what to do, Mousie? (Sullenly.) Okay. (He turns off the shower.) Now whadda ya want?
Mousie: Mazuma. Hay. Yer hot, Johnnie. Yer gonna make a million bucks. Johnnie Kilgore, da next champ! We’re gonna cash in — huh, Johnnie? (He snickers gleefully.)
Kilgore: (Desperately) Listen, Mousie. Be a right guy...
Mousie: (Sharply) Aw, cut da baloney! You kin make a lotta tickets, Johnnie — if ya don’t stop fightin’. An’ I kin fix it so you gotta stop fightin’! An’ you know it. (Ironically.) Johnnie Kilgore... Dat ain’t yer handle! Yer an ex-con — ya did a stretch in Leavenwoit’!
Kilgore: (Scared — low) Mousie, fer cripe’s sake — pipe down!
Mousie: (Loudly) If da Boxin’ Commission knew dat, dey wouldn’t okay de October fight, huh? Huh, Johnnie?
Kilgore: (Passionately) I got a good mind to break every bone in yer body, you dirty — chiselin’—
Mousie: You touch me, I sing! I’ll tell da papuhs! I’ll tell da Commission! (Kilgore glares at him.)
Kilgore: (Defeated) Whadda ya want from me, rat?
Mousie: Five G’s on account — see? I’ll give ya till Friday night, Johnnie — here’s my address — I got a liddle shack in East Flatbush. You be dere, Johnnie!
Kilgore: (Panting) You ain’t gonna get away with this, Mousie!
Mousie: No? You’ll show, Kilgore. (He goes, laughing.) Friday night, Johnnie — an’ bring five juicy G’s wit’ ya... sucker! (Mousie exits.)
Kilgore: (In a low voice) I’ll — be — there.
Scene 3: The Stadium
(It is a fine baseball day. The fans keep up a continuous shouting.)
Buckley: Sam Buckley, your baseball broadcaster, folks, and here’s a situation we’ve already had twice this season! Ninth inning, two out, Memphis Slats Mayo, the sensational right-hander, on the mound... and all Slats has to do is get this last batter out to have a — no, mustn’t say it! Might put the well-known whammy on Slats!
Fan: C’mon! Play ball!
Buckley: Here’s McCoskey walking up to the plate, swinging two bats — and there’s Slats Mayo on the mound, chewing away, cool as — (He laughs.) What’s he cool as, Harry? (A radio man chuckles: “Cucumber, isn’t it, Sam?”) Yes, sir, if Slats gets past McCoskey, he jumps right into Baseball’s Hall of Fame... (The crowd roars.) Umpire Jackson’s dusted off the plate — McCoskey jiggling his bat a little... (Mayo pitches. The crowd groans) Ball One! Man, I’ve got a temperature! (Mayo pitches again. Again the crowd groans) Ball Two! Come on, Slats! Make believe it’s just another ball-game! (Mayo pitches once more. The crowd yells.) Strike One! Look at Slats grin down there! (Another pitch.) Strike Two! McCoskey cut himself a piece of air that time! Wow! This one may be the pay-off... Slats is toeing the rubber — his arm goes back — here it comes... (Another pitch. The Crowd says: “OOOOOOOH!”) Ball Three!