Original subtitles

I'm thinking about using the bathroom.

- Go for it. - It's a no-brainer.

Wow, this one's brand new.

Hold my purse.

I'm gonna christen this puppy.

- Get it, girl. - Drop one on 'em, mama.

The boys forgot to chain this up.

They know my mom's visiting next week.

Damn it. She deserves a fresh one!

You journaling right now, Steve?

I'm working on an essay about my dad for a contest in English class.

I'm focusing on Stan Smith, the softball star.

Love that.

You have a title yet?

I'm thinking, My Dad.

Wow.

I'm pretty sure I love that.

Just look at him, Klaus.

Totally in his element.

Yeah. I don't like chicken in my pasta, either.

Switch it up.

The picture of a ballplayer.

Let's go! Let's go! Let's go! Let's freaking go.

Time, blue.

Stay down on that ball.

Hey, it's okay. Short memory, right?

But don't up like that again.

- Safe! - Yeah!

It's only the second inning.

Not for us.

Yes, it is.

Good morning, USA

I got a feeling That it's gonna be a wonderful day.

The sun in the sky Has a smile on his face.

And he's shining a salute To the American race.

Oh, boy, it's swell to say.

Good morning, USA.

Good morning, USA.

Webster's dictionary defines "hero"

as a mythological figure of great strength or ability.

"I define 'hero' as my dad. My dad is strong.

"My dad is good.

"My dad could hit a ball very far.

"If my dad raced your dad, he'd win.

"Because he's a winner.

"Because he's my dad."

Steve?

Yes, Dad?

This essay is so bad,

its robotic, zero artistry.

Maudlin drivel comes to mind.

What a dick!

I want to know more about Stan, the man.

The guy behind the uniform.

I'll tell you what!

Why don't you shadow me at the CIA?

Really? Wow! Thanks.

Hey, don't push it.

Oh, my God! I can't believe Dad.

- What a jerk! - He just has high standards.

Can I see your essay?

Aren't you a little old to worship Dad like this?

I don't worship Dad.

You just think if he fought a Tyrannosaurus rex, he would win?

Prove he wouldn't!

Hello?

This is how it ends?

I'm gonna die in a Porta John?

Wow, this thing's light as hell.

There's my little daddy's boy. Ready to hand in that essay?

Mr. Fritz, I need an extension.

Extension?

But I read the last draft with the Tyrannosaurus rex.

It was terrific.

- What happened? - My dad thinks it needs work.

Look, Steve, I started an essay contest about dads

because I love and admired dads.

But dads aren't always right.

Most of the time, yes.

99.9% of the time, they're 100% right.

But in this case, a dad is wrong.

Your essay is perfection.

Just hand it in.

I can't hand in an essay about my dad that my dad doesn't like.

I don't like an unhappy dad.

I'll give you two more days.

But that's it.

Oh, thank you. You won't regret it.

I hope you're right.

What, Billy? What do you want?

I just wanted to say hi.

Hi.

For lunch, I like the tuna from Rocky's, but the macaroni salad from Subs Galore.

Whoa. Slow... Slow down.

Why am I here again?

'Cause Dad won't drive me to school afterwards.

Dad, could we circle back to softball for a sec?

What's your batting average?

I'm not much of a stats guy. I'm more of a W's guy.

Steve, check it out. This is a thing I do that everyone loves.

People love that?

I... I think so.

Hey, you guys love when I throw Dick's lunch in the trash, right?

That's your hero, Steve?

Why does it bother you so much?

It doesn't bother me. I'm just trying to help you grow up.

God! I'll be in the car.

Four people said they love it. Five said they really love it.

You're right about Stan.

- Dick? - I'm not Dick.

Who are you?

Call me Deep Dick.

Why are you in my car?

Because you're right.

Stan's no hero.

This star softball player routine, a big lie.

He sucks shit.

But he's got everyone fooled, and I want him exposed.

He's been on the team 10 years.

How could he fool everyone for so long?

Tricks!

- What's Dick doing here? - Deep Dick.

He says Dad's bad at softball.

He's probably pissed he threw his lunch in the trash.

Again? Look, don't take my word for it.

Go to the file room. Check the softball records.

Great.

I welcome the chance to slurp up that delicious evidence

that Dad is all he says he is.

You'll need to pass a retina scan to get in.

Are those loose eyeballs?

Hmm. I hate to part with the green one.

Jackson?

Guess again.

Man, It's been hours.

You find anything yet?

Team rosters, game logs.

A recording of Bullock singing John Fogerty's Centerfield.

I'd like to hear that.

What I didn't find is any actual statistics on Dad.

Dad was in the lineup.

Why does it say zero for zero for his at bats?

Maybe they walked him every time.

Pitchers fear his mighty bat.

He also had zero plays in the field?

Hitters fear his mighty glove.

Again zero.

Every game.

Zero, zero.

It's like he's not even participating.

He's... He's...

He's avoiding the ball, ya damn fools.

Your dad's a fraud.

Open your eyes! My God!

Sorry I lost my temper.

It's just... I recently found out that I'm a janitor.

Dad's a fraud.

He literally avoided the ball for 10 years.

None of these documents prove that.

You're making assumptions based on mere pieces of paper.

Ephemera.

Come on, man! Wake up!

I'm tired of you whispering poison in his ear.

He needs to see the truth.

I don't give a damn about the truth! Just print the legend!

Steve, you had a gold star essay here.

Why are you digging?

Because a deranged lunatic has an axe to grind?

She's probably an old flame looking for vengeance.

She's my sister.

My... My dad's daughter.

Let's review the facts.

Your dad is big. Your dad is strong. Your dad could hit a ball very far.

He can carry a redwood tree, karate chop a python in half,

and he makes giant pancakes like Uncle Buck.

These are the things we know.

These are the things that ground us.

I still think he's all those things.

I just need time to prove it.

Two more days.

- Get out of here! Get! - Ahh!

Trust me, Hayley. Once you watch Dad play, you'll see you were wrong.

Lefty! Switch!

Okay. What was that?

An out?

Jackson, yours!

Hey, you gotta call those out, Jackson. Communication.

Come on, that was so obvious.

Obvious Dad's not a ball hog.

Looked like a snake.

Okay, let's just talk to him.

So, Hayley has this crazy idea

that you have no stats

because you've been avoiding the ball for a decade

because you suck at softball.

That's an interesting theory.

Theory?

Fifty games. No hits, no put outs. Nada.

Go ahead, check.

- I believe you. - So you admit it?

Admit our statistician, Dick's mom, has an axe to grind. Sure.

Dick! Of course.

See, Hayley, I told you. I told her, Dad.

We watched you play.

You spent the whole game avoiding the ball.

And you did take yourself out in the last inning

when the score was tied.

Because I shit my pants from those fish tacos.

Has she gotten to you, Steve?

Just prove her wrong, Dad.

Play a whole game at second base.

No tricks.

Come to today's game.

Should we ride together?

Let's caravan it.

I gotta listen to GWAR at max volume to get hyped.

Dad's looking real confident.

Yeah, he does.

Now batting, Demetrius Mongoni.

A damn fine hitter. And my brother-in-law.

Easy out, guys.

No, no, no!

Please, God, no! Mommy, no! I'm scared.

I don't want the ball. No!

No!

Pick up the ball, Smith!

Where is it? Where is it?

Uh-oh. He's in a full-on panic.

He's fishing around in his jock.

Why is this happening to me?

Oh, I got it. I got the ball.

A pine cone?

And it looks like it belongs

to fan favorite Ricky Raccoon,

the unofficial mascot of the left field bleacher bums.

Hello? A little help here.

We got a straggler. Yee-haw!

Oh, no, no, no, not you.

Ooh, look at that. We got a runner.

Yee-haw!

Sir, I'm so sorry about the game.

I just don't get why that raccoon was so butt hurt about his pine cone.

A mystery indeed.

The important thing is, I want you to know

there's still a place for you at the CIA.

Thank you, sir.

You're welcome, piss boy.

Goodbye, martinis.

Hey, kiddo, wanna toss the ol' pill around?

I gotta go meet my friends.

"The man I admired didn't really exist.

"He was a phantom, a figment,

"the product of a... conman."

"I realized my Paul Bunyan

"was actually my Paul Blart."

Steve? Hello?

Nahhh.

I owe you an apology, Dad.

Stan's gone. It's all in the note.

"You're better off without me.

"Don't try to find me.

"I'm a broken man.

"I've gone to the place all broken men go."

Where's that?

Beats me.

Hey, have you seen your mom lately?

Whee!

Dad left. We have to find him.

- Pass. - Pass?

Steve, he's your dad.

Are you drinking beer?

It's actually non-alcoholic, but I've had 30 of them.

Ask me why. Dad!

He's a fraud.

Who's a frog? Kermit?

Dad. He left.

Said he went to the place all broken men go.

- Orlando? - What?

The place where broken men go. Orlando.

So are you going?

I'd go. Let's go.

Orlando.

We're gonna make it happen.

Hey!

Every day.

Get him, Stan!

I just want to sell my drugs!

I saw an Iguana use my toilet.

I can give you a free soda.

Didn't I say Orlando?

First place we checked, too.

We're here to bring you home, Dad.

Your family needs you. Your son needs you.

He's not the same.

Well, he lost an incredible hero.

Now I'm a laughingstock. A pariah.

I could never make that up to him.

You could try.

I could help you.

Are you thinking gifts?

Like a platinum ID bracelet or a toe ring?

I was thinking more we practice softball so you could redeem yourself in a game.

Become the hero he always thought you were.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no!

No.

The truth is, I'm afraid of the ball.

Yeah, no shit.

As a boy, I witnessed something terrible.

It traumatized me.

That's what the Iguana did to me.

Pop-ups.

People will tell you to use two hands, but I'm a confident guy.

I use one.

Check it out.

There must have been something else going on with his face.

Anyway, the point is, I'm a broken man.

Yeah, well, you've got a broken son right now.

He needs someone to believe in again.

He needs a hero.

He needs his dad. What do you say?

No. Hey!

You're Houston Astros legend Mudcat Ranelli, aren't you?

I could just be an anonymous old man paying for sex.

Mudcat's my childhood hero.

Okay. Yes. I'm Mudcat Ranelli.

And that's why I'm a broken man living in exile in Orlando.

Maybe you're a broken man, but you got a broken son right now.

He needs someone to believe in again.

He needs a hero.

He needs his dad.

What do you say?

- Yes. - Just said that.

You have a wonderful way of communicating, Mudcat.

Let's get it going! Hit me one!

Wowza.

Dad, you can't quit.

You've got to keep going. For Steve.

- For me. - For you?

Yeah.

I guess this whole thing reminded me, you used to be my hero, too.

So, when did that stop?

Worshipping your parents is just a thing kids grow out of, Dad.

"There is one sure thing about the fall of gods.

"They do not fall a little.

"They crash and shatter or sink deeply into green muck."

Steinbeck.

Also, there was that time you pissed yourself at Chuck E. Cheese.

I was drunk! All the dads were doin' it.

But I think I could look up to you again

if you could just face something that scared you.

Like finally watching Hotel Transylvania with my eyes open?

No. Like softball.

Shit.

Okay. I'll try.

Whoa, Mudcat! Let me get you to a hospital.

I can drive myself.

I just need to find my keys.

Okay, Dad. Let's get you over your fear of the ball.

Gotta keep those eyes open, Dad.

David Flincher over here.

That's a good one.

Put me in, Coach

I'm ready to play.

Today.

Thought process here was that watching Fear Factor

would also help you conquer your fear of the ball.

Oh, don't eat those habanero peppers.

Put me in, Coach

I'm ready to play.

Today.

See, Dad, you're doing it.

Look at me

I can be

I'm not afraid anymore.

And I'm getting veneers.

Yeah!

Centerfield.

Hey. You're ready, Dad.

Show Steve, show me, show everyone what you're made of.

What's the meaning of this, Smith?

I'm ready, sir.

Please, give me a chance.

I won't let you down.

Smith is in.

Damn it, no! This is a mistake!

Two outs, man on third.

Everything on the line.

Thoughts?

He'll never score, sir.

That's great news.

- Mongoni? - Mongoni?

Yeah, Mongoni.

Hmm, he's a total ringer.

Plays on, like, five teams.

Yes!

No!

I got it.

You cost me a shutout, Smith.

You already proved your point.

Did you really need to tear dad down again?

I wasn't trying to tear him down.

I was trying to build him back up.

- You were? - Yeah.

I used to worship him, too, you know.

And I am sorry for taking that away from you.

It's okay.

Even though I wasn't quite ready to lose my superhero,

everyone's time comes, I guess.

Not me.

I still have my superhero.

Chris Pratt.

So funny, so sexy.

He's an important reminder

that we all have a responsibility to be both those things.

Dad, Hayley and I wrote a new essay.

Read it.

"Our dad might not be a superhero or a sports hero,

"but he showed up and tried for us.

"And that's why he's our hero."

Thank you, guys. But this is still very bad.

Shh. Just rest now.

Have you seen your mother?

Hello?

Hey. What's up?