Eight Men Out

Joe Jackson: [Talking to his bat, "Black Betsy" as he starts to walk to the on-deck circle] C'mon, Betsy. We need a big wallop, now. Big wallop. Tell me when, Betsy. Swede Riesberg: She ever talk back to you, Joe? Fred McMullin: Probably sleeps with it, too. Lefty Williams: Lay off, you guys. Happy Felsch: Oh, all you crackers stick together, huh? Swede Riesberg: Hey, ask her for a triple, Joe! You hear me? Fred McMullin: It's been sixty years since the Civil War, Lefty. Ease up. Happy Felsch: Besides, you guys lost. It was all in the papers. Fred McMullin: That wouldn't help Jackson, none.

Eight Men Out, CC BY-SA 4.0

Mean fan: [taunting Jackson from the stands] Jackson! Hey, Jackson! Can you spell "cat"? Hey, Shoeless Joe! Can you spell "cat"? Joe Jackson: Hey, mister! Can you spell "shit"?

Eight Men Out, CC BY-SA 4.0

Billy Maharg: (Eddie) Collins? Bill Burns: Nah. Collins boy is the only one on the club getting paid what he's worth. Had it in his contract when he got traded. Billy Maharg: What about Chick Gandil? Bill Burns: [Gandil hits a foul ball] He might do business. Chickie's a sport. Billy Maharg: Buck Weaver? Bill Burns: Bucky's one of the boys, but the thing about Bucky is he don't like to lose. [Weaver grounds out, and then kicks the ground in disgust] Can't stand to lose. Put him on the "maybe" list. Billy Maharg: What about (Ray) Schalk? Bill Burns: Not a prayer. Bill Burns: Eddie's getting old for the game. I know the feeling. You walk out there to the mound, with your arm hanging. Billy Maharg: You couldn't pitch when you were young, Burnsie. [Burns gives him a look] Bill Burns: Eddie's the key. If we don't get Eddie, we forget about it. Billy Maharg: Guy could knock his brains out doing that! Bill Burns: What brains? Shoeless Joe's ignorant; Hap Felsch is just dumb.

Eight Men Out, CC BY-SA 4.0

Eddie Cicotte: What's the scoop, Harry? Harry: Mr. Comiskey sent these down for you. A congratulations for a successful pennant race. Eddie Cicotte: That's awfully white of him. He didn't happen to mention when we can expect that bonus he promised us in return for taking the flag, did he? Harry: This is your bonus. Swede Risberg: Cheap bastard. Kid Gleason: Look, fellas, if it was up to me... Eddie Cicotte: Kid, we've got no beef with you. [opens one of the champagne bottles - nothing happens; glares at Harry] It's flat. [tosses the cork back at Harry, and the team leaves]

Eight Men Out, CC BY-SA 4.0

Hugh Fullerton: [to one of the groundskeepers] Hey Winslow, your boys look sharp. Winslow: They're the best I've seen yet. Best white folks team, anyways. Ring Lardner: I say they're the best, Hughey. The best ever. Hugh Fullerton: Time will tell, kid. Time will tell.

Eight Men Out, CC BY-SA 4.0

Eddie Cicotte: You promised me a $10,000 bonus if I won 30 games this year. Charles Comiskey: So? Eddie Cicotte: I think you owe it to me. Charles Comiskey: Harry, how many games did Mr. Cicotte win for us this year? Harry: 29, Mr. Comiskey. Eddie Cicotte: You told Kid to sit me down for two weeks; that cost me five games. Charles Comiskey: We had to get your arm ready for the series. Eddie Cicotte: I would've won at least two of those games, and you know it. Charles Comiskey: I have to keep the best interests in the club in mind, Eddie. Eddie Cicotte: I deserve that $10,000. Charles Comiskey: 29 is not 30, Eddie. You will get only the money you deserve.

Eight Men Out, CC BY-SA 4.0