Yay! Another run for the Topes.
Why is everyone on the other team old men and little kids?
Well, little Abe, it's because
all the good players in the league
are off fighting the war.
Our clever cowards found a way out.
Now batting for Springfield,
Fake Cough Johnson.
Ooh, cough, cough.
Yippee!
- Yeah! - Yay!
Someday you'll be sitting in these very seats
enjoying baseball with a grandson of your own.
I can't wait for that someday.
I'm still waiting.
Bart, it's your grampa.
It's a beautiful day for a ballgame.
Eh, baseball's just a bunch of guys
in tight pants barely moving.
I can watch that here.
Marge, my stomach ate my belt again.
Look under the fold.
I'm too a-scared.
Ah, I guess it's just me
and the self-storage units again.
Dagnabbit!
Hey! Now we're cooking.
In the only way men should.
Yeah! Heh.
Another fan?
Want some company?
Oh, boy, I'll be right there!
Another tough one for the Topes, huh?
Yeah, yeah, tough one.
We would've had a shot in '91
if Flash Lewis didn't get arrested mid-game.
Oh, yeah, oh, that guy could really steal bases.
And nitrous from the dentist's office.
Hey, you want to have some fun and, uh, help the team?
You suck!
My kidney stones move quicker than your fastball.
You pitch worse than Sandy Koufax on Yom Kippur.
Whatever the hell that is!
We rattled him.
That wasn't because of you!
I'm having troubles with my marriage.
Well, at least you're striking out somewhere.
Oh!
I've never enjoyed losing 14-1 more.
Misery isn't so bad when you have company.
Yeah, hey, they should make a saying about that.
Yeah, but they probably won't.
Mm.
Hey, listen, uh, if you, uh,
don't end up stroking out in the next couple of days, uh,
maybe we could do this again?
Or not, or not.
Ooh, why do you have to come on so hard, Moe?
Stupid, stupid, stupid—
- I'd love to.
Wha—?
Hey, that's great!
Hey, would it, would it be okay if I added you
as a contact in my phone?
You'd be the first one.
And you'll be my only living one.
My father?
My bartender?
The guy I'm gonna bury and the guy who's gonna bury me?
I got to drink to forget this.
But where?
We interrupt the ninth inning
of this unprecedented double perfect game
for breaking baseball news.
A once-in-a-generation prospect is coming to the majors.
Macedonian two-way phenom,
Aeropos Walkov
will leave the Minsk Golems
to achieve his lifelong dream:
playing in the U.S.
Walkov developed his unique two-handed
pitching style at the age of six,
helping his father, the village ratcatcher.
Where he also developed his immense power at the plate.
Gotti!
Every major league club is gonna pull out all the stops
to get Walkov to sign.
Yeah, too bad the Topes can't land a superstar like Walkov.
But Springfield ain't one of them classy cities
like, uh, Philadelphia or Anaheim.
If we started winning, maybe my grandson
would finally go to a game with me.
Suck that sigh right back into your gobble shoot.
So what if our city's a greased-stained
mattress graveyard?
Our team's got passionate, dedicated fans.
We do?
Yeah, us, you lovable bag of Alzheimer's.
What we got to do is make a video
with a personal appeal to that two-handed-throwing
Euro sasquatch.
But all the rich teams are gonna do that, too.
Yeah, but what they don't know is
is I speak a pretty good Macedonian.
How? You barely speak English.
No offense!
Yeah, I learned it from my grandmother.
Yeah, nobody could put a cigarette out
on the back of your neck like Baba Branka.
So what do you say?
Let's make a video!
Ah, geez, it's out of gas.
Hey, Walkov, Chris Rock here to tell you why you should come
and play for my favorite team, the New York Mets.
What a city!
Where else can you get a sandwich at 3:00 a.m.
and a gun at the same bodega?
Oh.
Mr. Walkov, I'm Danny Trejo.
I have 468 credits on my IMDb.
So why don't you just be like me
and say yes to any job in L.A.?
Hmm.
Mm-mm. Mm-mm.
Mm...
Mm-mm. Mm.
Hmm.
Hello, Mr. Walkov.
The point is, you big, beautiful, farm-fed foreigner...
Springfield.
Hearts.
Walkov!
Oh, my drone!
I was gonna use it to see if the trees
I planted in erotic formations have grown in.
I am here because of a beautiful video
made by these two men:
Corpse
and Gargoyle.
We did it!
We saved Springfield baseball!
Springfield baseball!
I gotta assume that's a misunderstanding.
There's a superstar in Springfield for the first time
since Bullseye the Target dog's
private plane landed here to empty its trash.
Thanks to the newly signed Walkov, baseball is back.
And Mayor Quimby has sold off every traffic light
in town to pay for renovations to the ballpark.
- Go Isotopes...
Thanks for taking me to see Walkov's first game, Grampa.
My grandson is going to a game with me.
Now I can die less unhappy.
All because of what youse and me did.
We're a great team, like Martin and Lewis.
Thank you for noticing.
Wow, look at this place.
The scoreboard's huge!
It's like everyone here is looking at the same phone.
Still too small!
Ladies and gentlemen,
please rise for our national anthem.
Ooh, I got to go translate the anthem for Walkov.
It's kind of tough 'cause there's
no Macedonian word for "free."
Hey, you want to meet the big teddy bear after the game?
Wow, you think I could?
Of course. Walkov wouldn't even be here
if it weren't for your gramps.
And, in some sick way, neither would youse.
Go ahead, kid, show me you're a winner.
I heart Szyslak.
- Attaboy! - Yay!
Starting off your Major League career with a win?
That's got to be a great feeling.
Just like when I played for the Marlins.
In Macedonia, our widows chant mournful dirges
for your garbage Marlins.
Oh, where's Walkov going?
You said I could meet him.
Sorry, kids, the big lug's teaching himself English
by watching Family Guy.
Giggity, giggity.
I got to go.
It's a road trip and I am traveling in style.
Oh, I'm gonna be so regular.
Walkov approaches the plate.
And here comes the pitch, sponsored by Squatty Potty.
It's a long drive, sponsored by Hankook tires.
Walkov makes it to third base, sponsored by Trojan condoms.
Trojan, for when she waves you in.
Wait a minute.
This game is just one big commercial.
Hey, this series of sponsorships is sponsored by...
After a hard day turning Macedonian into normal,
I wet my whistle with Gren-Aid.
Ka-boom drink.
Ah!
Ka-boom drink!
Please accept this traditional Macedonian vest
from Mr. Walkov in memory of your meaningful tryst.
And so, after spending millions
of tax dollars on the BALCO investigation,
not a single steroid abuser was ever punished.
Oh, Grampa, you and your stories.
I'm sorry, sir, you can't go in
unless you're a member of the De Beers Diamonds
Diamond Club Gold.
But these seats have been in my family for 80 years.
Section J.
Oh, yes, you still sit in Section J.
Two hot dogs for me and my grandson.
Oh, we don't sell hot dogs anymore.
Crème brûlée, get your crème brûlée here!
Served in a souvenir ramekin.
Seafood towers!
It ain't a ballgame without a seafood tower.
Ortolan!
Brandy-drowned baby birds.
Comes with team logo napkin
to hide your shame from God.
That's so wrong.
No hot dogs?
Sit down, you bandwagon betties!
Oh, is there any place left that's just for only fans?
Aah!
Moe, you're not gonna believe
the way everything has changed around here.
Abe, will you please? I'm working here.
Walkov's doing the product launch
of his caffeinated goat jerky.
Well, youse didn't hear it from me,
but, uh, soon we'll be branching out to llama.
What happened to that guy
that loved baseball so much
he taped over the 1998 Westminster Dog Show
to make that video for Walkov?
Ah, the dogs weren't that hot that year.
I'll tell you what happened to that guy.
He sold out.
Oh, is that right?
You're right it's right.
They're putting ads everywhere now.
Even on the bases.
Well, you're just jealous that I'm Walkov's buddy.
That beautiful Balkan boy loves me
and Springfield loves him.
But all this fiddle-faddle that came with him
is bad for baseball!
Having empty stadiums was bad for baseball.
Now they're packed, making money wart over bunion.
And soon the league is gonna expand to 50 teams.
They might even get one in Tampa.
Well, I say I saved baseball,
and you were just a bunch of sour grapes.
I wish I never let you into my life or my phone!
- Ah! Consarn. Ah.
What are you watching one of your potato unboxing videos?
Whoa there.
Draft-Pigs?
Uh, that's a betting site.
Hey, gambling can get you suspended.
- At least you're not betting on base—
ball! And you're betting on the Topes?
No! No, no, no!
I'm so sorry!
I go under instead of over!
Do you whip Walkov now?
How did this happen?
How did you even hear about sports betting, anyway?
Oh.
Not giggity!
A subject line should be short.
You don't have to write
the whole email in there, okay?
Abe, we got to talk. In private.
Away from all of these, these wrinkletons.
I got nothing to say to you.
Something horrible happened.
Walkov's gambling.
And he called a press conference to come clean about it.
So why are you bothering me?
You got to help me talk him out of telling the truth.
Everything's gonna disappear.
The team trips,
people calling me Mr. Creepo,
the steaks with a little plastic cow
stuck in them saying how it's been cooked.
I can't go back to unlabeled steak!
So that's all you care about?
You don't give a leprechaun's lick
about baseball and now you want my help?
Well, tough tomboys.
Lisa, print out my email.
So it's ready for the email man.
That's not how it wor—
Okay.
Hiya, puppy.
I got some bad news about the sport
you love as much as I do.
Turns out baseball breeds nothing but snakes and scugs.
And Walkov is the biggest rat of them all.
Walkov? Is he hurt?
That means I got an edge.
I got to lay down a bet now.
You're g-g-gambling?
Of course, everybody else is cashing in.
I'd be a sucker not to.
Where'd you ever get that idea?
I learned from watching Yu...
Darvish. Yu's covered the spread in six straight starts.
How does a kid get on a gambling site?
Easy, Dad helped me.
That's the thing about furniture.
It has an agenda.
Oh, sweet tomboys!
- This is terrible! - I know.
If the Phillies don't get at least 3.5 runs today,
- I'll have to sell my bike.
Thank you for coming, but I have something I need to confess.
Yeah, okay, he wants to say that, uh,
well, he loves playing here in Springfield
and, uh, what you call it,
oh, everybody should, uh, buckle up on the way home.
Right? Click it or ticket, okay.
That's Macedonian for "Go Topes."
Yeah, Steve Gelbs, Draft-Pigs News.
Walkov, why are you crying and whipping yourself?
Oh, Walkov's just real excited, uh,
for the big series in Pittsburgh.
And, um, oh, he's always wanted to ride that, uh,
Duquesne Incline Funicular.
Matt Lauer, Senior Baseball Correspondent
for BetBastards.com.
I think I can speak for all of us when I say...
we completely buy that explanation.
Great, very good questions.
Hard-hitting. See youse at the ballpark.
Wait one milk of magnesia minute.
I have a question— not for Walkov,
but for an old friend.
This is only for credentialed press.
Shut up, skinny Weinstein.
What do you say when baseball's unquenchable pursuit of greed
leads to a ten-year-old boy
gambling on your sport?
I'm just gambling till I get myself out of this hole.
And then I'm going to quit.
Until football starts.
Bart? Betting?
Walkov, who do you like for the AFC South?
The Titans are plus 750.
No!
Oh, he's just a sweet, innocent kid.
Just like Walkov, and I've ruined 'em both.
Uh, the truth is...
- Walkov's been gambling.
Yeah, youse is right to gasp and murmur.
He's been betting like a plumber on payday.
He's betting on baseball.
- But baseball's this sport.
And it's all your fault.
Baseball used to be about men
making hundreds of millions of dollars
to play a child's game.
And then money came into the picture.
And now the whole league is in bed with the bookies.
The teams, the stadiums, even the networks.
But we always tell them to gamble responsibly.
Oh, yeah, and I tell my booze bags to drink responsibly.
I'm... drunk.
Gambling's the top of the food chain now.
Pays all your salaries.
But, hey, when a potato out of dirt like Walkov
actually makes a bet, oh-ho-ho,
you hypocrites pretend to be offended.
You've ruined the six-hour sun slog between guys
that are too skinny for football
and too short for basketball
that used to deserve to be called America's Pastime.
Thanks, Moe. You did save baseball.
Nah, we did.
After a thorough 45-minute investigation,
the commissioner's office has determined that Aeropos Walkov
is completely innocent of betting on baseball.
The guilty party was determined to be
the disgraced former team translator Moe Szyslak.
Looking for a fresh start,
Walkov has signed an $800 million contract
with the newly renamed San Francisco Draft-Pigs.
I rich here now.
Giggity!
I guess when you have to choose between
your moneymaker or your Moe,
the decision's pretty easy.
At least Bart isn't gambling anymore.
Drinks are on me, boys.
Well, at least he's not losing.
Captioning sponsored by 20th CENTURY FOX TELEVISION
and FOX BROADCASTING COMPANY and TOYOTA.
Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org
Photo shoot taking place on the infield
and Gramps isn't having it.
"This isn't what I bought a ticket for!
I didn't come to see ads gettin' filmed!"
Throws the ticket on the field.
One poke, two poke, three pokes.
"Oh, I'm gonna have to turn my hat around!"
"I'll turn my hat around!
"I hate all this marketing! It's everywhere!
It's even on the bases!"
Throws the base.
"It's bad for baseball!"
And he says, "Okay." One nose kiss,
two nose kisses, three nose kisses.
They think he's done with nose kisses.
He comes back for a fourth.
He says, "Oh, you want to kiss my nose?"
He goes, "I'll throw my hat.
"I'll kick dirt on it with my left foot.
"And then I'll eject you from my phone
"and kick my hat with the right foot.
I'm outta here."
Shh!