Major League

Eddie Harris: Up your butt, Jobu. Eddie Harris: Are you trying to say that Jesus Christ can't hit a curveball? Eddie Harris: Yo, bartender, Jobu needs a refill. Pedro Cerrano: [having decided on a new use for Dorn's golf club covers] Hats for bats, keep bats warm. Pedro Cerrano: I'm pissed off now, Jobu... I go to you. I stick up for you. And you no help me now... I say FUCK YOU, Jobu. I do it myself. Pedro Cerrano: Is very bad to steal Jobu's rum... Is very bad. Roger Dorn: Let's cut through the crap, Vaughn. I only got one thing to say to you: Strike this motherfucker out! Roger Dorn: [Talking about a ground ball he missed] It was out of my reach. What did you want me to do, dive for it? Rachel Phelps: Here's to the thrill of defeat, Charlie. Rachel Phelps: [while Wild Thing is playing] I hate this fucking song.

Major League, CC BY-SA 4.0

Charlie Donovan: Well, if I'm the G.M., who's gonna be the manager? Rachel Phelps: I was thinking of Lou Brown. Charlie Donovan: [turns the vase of flowers partially blocking his view] Who's Lou Brown? Rachel Phelps: He's managed the Toledo Mud Hens of the International League for the last 30 years. I think he'll fit right into our team concept. Charlie Donovan: What exactly is our team concept? Rachel Phelps: That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Charlie: I want to put together a team that'll help us relocate to Miami. Charlie Donovan: What do you mean? [holds up the roster of spring training invitees] Some of these guys are furniture movers? Rachel Phelps: I'm serious about this, Charlie. It's no secret I've never liked Cleveland much. [sighs] Stadium's falling apart, we don't draw dick, the weather's lousy. Another couple years of this, and I'm gonna have to start feeding Cha-Cha real dog food. Charlie Donovan: Mrs. Phelps, you just can't up and move a team on a whim. Rachel Ph

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Lou: I thought you said we didn't have any high-priced talent. Charlie Donovan: Forgot about Dorn, cause he's only high-priced. Picked him up as a free agent three years ago. Lou: Still hits the ball pretty well, doesn't he? Charlie Donovan: Yeah, just can't field it. [Dorn gives cocky gesture to them] Lou: We'll shape him up.

Major League, CC BY-SA 4.0

Pepper: Look at this fuckin' guy. Lou: [Chuckles] It's my kinda team, Charlie, my kinda team.

Major League, CC BY-SA 4.0

Lou: [After Dorn boots a grounder] C'mon, Dorn! Get in front of the damn ball! Don't give me this olè bullshit! Roger: Look, I took one of those in the eye last year, and I am not about to lose my sight! Lou: [Unconcerned] I'm deeply moved. Every time I see you play one your hips, you owe me forty sit-ups. Roger: What? Roger: Look here, Lou. My contract clearly states I don't have to do any calisthenics that I don't feel are necessary. So what do you think about that?

Major League, CC BY-SA 4.0

Willie: 200 pushups! How am I supposed to hit if I can't lift my arms? Shit! Jake: Well, the way I played today, I wouldn't be surprised if they red-tagged me already. Willie: What do you mean? Jake: If you get a red tag in your locker, it means the manager wants to see you, because you just died and went back down to the minors. Jake: Hey, don't worry, kid. They don't cut anybody on the first day. [Vaughn nonetheless keeps his locker closed.]

Major League, CC BY-SA 4.0