All language subtitles for s1-5 bçsgçwen

Was her only line, "I am your wife?"

It was kind of her catchphrase.

Look, "Puso Sa Puso"
might not have passed

the Bechdel Test or anything,

but I'm telling you...
It was a big, fat hit.

- I loved it.
- I didn't.

That was physically painful to watch.

Like my body was rejecting
it while watching it.

Okay, don't listen to him. He just...

I want a physical copy so I can burn it.

He's too young to realize

how brilliant your impersonation
of Bruce Boxleitner was.

You're thinking of
"Scarecrow and Mrs. King."

I meant, um, no,

your impersonation of Pierce Brosnan.

I was "Remington Steele."
I was Robert Wagner.

But look, I don't want to
dwell on the over-abundance

of '80s romantic crime procedurals.

I just wanted you guys to see that

I was actually famous
for something besides

- having a legendary meltdown.
- Mm!

The second meltdown video
is trending on Twitter again.

What? That was two days ago.

Who's still watching that stupid thing?

Well, I mean, it got a big boost

when it circulated through
local and national news.

How is Jim Brockmire

yelling at a minor-league
ball game national news?

The news now is pretty much anything

that was on the Internet yesterday.

This is your baptism, people!

Bathe in the blood of the
people who have wronged you!

And come out cleansed on the other side.

It's not a big deal.

So a couple of people
saw your new video.

2,800,014.

Holy shit!

And 90.

You just said 14.

I'm sorry. I'm refreshing it.

It's addictive.

2,800,206!

10!

Charles, I like you, but
if you keep saying numbers,

I'm gonna take this game
bat that George Brett signed,

"To Jim, you are where it's bat,"

and I'm gonna tunnel it straight up...

All right. You're overreacting!

Oh, no, hey. No, I'm not.

You do not know what it's like

to see the same exact look
in every stranger's eye...

the look that says, "I
already know who you are,

and I just can't wait for
you to lose your shit again."

This isn't like last time, Jim!

I know.

Last time, I could lock
myself in a motel room

and eat quaaludes
until I hit rock bottom.

But now... This is rock
bottom. There it is.

And there's not a 'lude in sight, so...

Now where am I supposed to go?

Last time, you were a
national personality.

This time, no one even
knows where to find you!

We have to make sure everybody
knows where to find him.

I can tag the location of
the stadium in the video.

Ooh! And the home schedule.

And if you mention the video,
you get two-for-one tickets.

Wait, wait.

Don't you feel bad about
using Jim like this?

Aren't you guys in a
serious relationship?

I can't let my relationship with him

interfere with this plan!

Gary and Pennsylvania Shale
are torpedoing attendance.

I need this!

And he's tougher than he looks.

He cries every day.

Only when he's blacked-out drunk.

And besides, he's happiest
when he's in the public eye.

- There he is!
- No, no, no. Please, no.

- I don't do that.
- Sir! Please!

Hey, crazy mother

Do something crazy, mother.

I'll be right back, okay?

Excuse me, folks!

- This mother.
- Hey!

Okay, come on, people.

Please! All right, okay.

Everybody just relax!

Hey! Hey!

You want to see me lose my
shit? Is that what you want?

That's what gets you
hard, you... piece of shit?

Oh, God.

Man... All right.

Sorry. I'm... Excuse me, everyone. Hi.

That's what gets you
hard, you... piece of shit?

That's what gets you
hard, you... piece of shit?

That's what gets you
hard, you... piece of shit?

The hell is wrong with these assholes?

- I'm getting mobbed down there.
- Hey, hey.

They are not assholes.

They just want a little bit of
heat from your Internet fame,

like that you kid you just
screamed at downstairs.

It just happened. How
do you know about that?

Because that's Pussyhound14!

He has 4 million followers on Vine.

He uploaded the video of you just now.

80,000 loops already.

That's what gets you
hard, you... piece of shit?

That's what gets you
hard, you... piece of shit?

That's what gets you
hard, you... piece of shit?

Oh, God. Yeah, I hate everybody.

Hey, look.

Screaming about a
10-year-old's dick...

that is really on brand.

I just want to applaud you for that.

That's what gets you
hard, you... piece of shit?

Swing and a miss. Strike 2.

That makes the count 2 and 2.

You may have noticed

that Pedro Uribe is
using a very unique bat.

Most bats are made of maple or ash,

but Uribe is holding a
piece of birch in his hand.

Birch combines the strength of mahogany

with some of the
natural give of a willow

or, well, even a palm.

Hey.

Are you being intentionally boring

so you don't end up in another video?

No, no, no, no, no. I'm ju...

I'm educating these fans on
the different types of wood.

That better be vodka.
That's not water, is it?

Hey. I don't need alcohol
to make it through the day.

Oh, that is awful.

Oh, my God!

70% of the earth is
made up of that shit?

Ugh! How do the fish do it?

Something interesting.

Cedar is an interesting wood.

It naturally grabs odor.

That was boring as shit, Brockmire.

They won the game 14 to 6.

Whatever. Eat a dick.

He's not wrong.

Look, I know I let you down today,

but I have to let

some of this attention
die down, all right?

You don't know what it's
like to have the whole world

know you for your worst qualities.

Better than being anonymous.

Since the divorce, my kids
won't ever call me back...

Oh, Jesus Christ, Johnny the Hat.

I'm trying to have a
conversation over here.

Since the kids won't
call me... My son...

He doesn't know... He
doesn't... I'm his dad.

What do you really want?

What gets you out of bed in the morning?

Uh, the urge to pee, usually.

Bullshit.

Deep down, you want to call
games in the majors again.

That's what you want.
You came to America

to crawl your way back up to the top.

Look, even if that were true,

this kind of publicity is not helping.

Are you kidding?

This publicity is the
only thing that can help!

Well, maybe I don't
want it that way, huh?

Well, tell me another way!

I mean... nobody cares

that you're good at
calling baseball games.

What they care about is that

you're a charismatic open wound!

The spotlight found you again.

If you step into it,

you can take it anywhere you want.

Well, I'm gonna have to think on this.

Jim Brockmire was stuck.

Ironically, the very
instrument of his destruction...

the Internet... could
also be his salvation.

But was that ironic?

Brockmire wasn't always
sure about the definition,

and that Alanis Morissette was no help.

"10,000 spoons when all you need
a knife" would only be ironic

if she was trapped inside
some kind of a knife factory.

Does he know that he's talking out loud?

It's like his way of processing things.

It'll be over soon.

Truth was, he was
tired of his own scent.

"Desperation by Jim Brockmire."

And if internet fame

was, in fact, his golden ticket
back to the Major Leagues,

well, he would suck Willy Wonka's dick

just to get his hands on it.

Johnny always wore his hat

because it was the last
thing his kids got for him.

Johnny always wore his hat

'cause his kids got it for him

on the last Father's
Day he ever saw them.

It was used.

Probably left in the couch cushions

by one of his wife's sex boyfriends.

Hey, Johnny the Hat, please.

Giving introspective monologues
in the third person...

that's my thing.

Sitting sadly alone over there...

that's yours.

I don't like my thing.

I would like a new thing.

That ball cannot be
buried in a Jewish cemetery

because it just got tattooed!

I don't see why that's funny,

but how many hit...
hits? does that have?

Uh, 200,000.

200... And that's cat-me. I'm real me.

I ought to be calling
games again in no time!

Yeah.

What, why are you making that face?

Huh?

Oh, this is just...
This is my normal face.

No, that's your worried
face. That's the face you make

when I peel the labels
off my pill bottles

and play "Chemical
Roulette" with myself.

Uh, we're reaching the end
of our Internet-fame cycle,

and these things move very fast.

It starts with videos, then
memes, conventional media,

late-night monologues,
and then finally,

if my mom's seen it, we're dead.

Well, how long does all that take?

Five days, a week tops.

And my mom just sent me the link.

- We need to hurry.
- Well, hey.

Put me in, Coach. I
mean, uh, what's the plan?

Okay, um, if we're going to

immediately capitalize on your fame,

then we need to take a shotgun approach.

Just insert you into a bunch
of popular video formats

like acoustic versions of songs,

charity dares, playful
dogs with Down Syndrome.

But if none of those
hit, then I'm afraid

we're gonna have to start moving our way

into creepy YouTube.

Like ASMR.

What is ASM...

All right.

Now, I'm gonna be
whispering about haircuts

and maybe some bobcats.

And then I'm gonna run my
hands across these beads.

I'll be doing that for
about an hour and a half.

Okay.

So all of our other videos failed,

but at least this one's
doing... fairly well.

Somebody just commented that it

feels like Brockmire just
gave his brain a handjob.

Mleh. Speh.

I'm calling it. We are done here.

Just...

I got you an interview.

I got you an interview
on network television.

Oh, my God. That's incredible!

I mean, I wish you would have told me

before I seduced a curtain,

but... hey, why didn't
you think of that, huh?

I don't know.

No one my age watches network TV.

They're gonna fly you to New York,

and you'll be able to tell
your side of the story.

Oh, my God. I have been waiting 10 years

to tell my side of the story.

I feel just like O.J.

I know it.

This is gonna be just the thing I need

to get myself back into baseball.

Yeah, yeah. This might work.

Because nobody my age
watches baseball, either.

Shut up.

I mean, seriously,

it's like the wardrobe
of a Filipino gigolo.

You say that like it's a bad thing.

Hey. Wh... uh, aren't
you gonna pack my jacket?

Am I gonna pack your
jacket? Are you crazy?

It's iconic.

It's also how I smuggle
drugs onto airplanes.

- What?!
- Oh, yeah.

What do you mean?

I got a little secret
compartment right by the armpit.

What?

And 20 years of B.O. masks
the scent from the dogs.

- No!
- Oh, yeah.

You know, I'm a little nervous.

Last time I went on
national TV, it, uh...

it did not go well.

I'm serious.

This might be my last chance.

Really. What if I...

I screw it all up?

Baby, you won't.

Just remember... never
answer the question they ask.

Answer the question
you wish they had asked.

And at some point, stare
off in the distance,

make your lip quiver a little bit,

and seem like you're gonna break down,

and then smile through it.

'Cause they... they
just eat that shit up.

Okay?

All right.

Hey, this things looks cleaner to me.

Oh, yeah.

I was able to get most
of the obvious stains out.

Well, aren't you the sweetest thing?

You want a hit?

Of your B.O. joint?

Sure, I'll take a little.

Thought you might.

You are as advertised.

Well, very important
to stay hydrated, Bill.

Darling?

I look all right?

- Tie straight,
hair good? - Mm-hmm.

All right. Let's roll.

So,

Jim Brockmire, how are you?

Well, still dreaming about

getting back to the Major Leagues.

That's how I am, Bill Douglas.

- Uh, how are you?
- I'm... I'm fine, thanks.

Seriously, though, Bill. I do miss it.

I miss having the best seat in the house

for the best game in the world

and making every single
moment come alive for people.

Just, uh... O-On a good day...

...it feels like...
you're a slice of apple

in America's favorite
kind of pie, or something.

What a great way to put that.

Hey! Everybody shut up!

Jim's coming on in a few minutes.

He might mention us on TV
and give our lives meaning.

Hoo.

You know, this whole experience

had made me realize something.

There are only three kinds
of people in America...

rich people, poor
people, and famous people.

Rich people are just
poor people with money.

No, the only truly worthwhile
thing is being famous.

And after this little interview airs,

this famous guy is gonna
be well on his way back

to calling Major League
baseball games again.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

Shh!

Good evening. I'm Bill Douglas.

Tonight's surprisingly candid

and heartfelt interview
with Jim Brockmire...

will not be seen, as
we have breaking news.

- What?!
- No, no, no!

What are you talking about?!

- Oh, you cock-swallowing
turds! - Shh.

A Taylor Swift-Drake sex
tape has leaked online.

Some people had sex. So what?

TMZ already has an
estimate of his dick size!

I'm so sorry.

We are devoting our entire show...

Ha!

...to this disgusting
invasion of privacy.

Swallow a turd!

Why did they cancel "Puso to P-Puso?"

"Puso Sa Puso."

Something about copyright infringement.

I don't know.

Robert Wagner... he's
got eyes everywhere.

Anyway, I'm gonna die...

alone and penniless
and in this piss puddle.

- Hey! You're not alone!
- I'm sorry.

Just... Just penniless
and in this piss puddle.

That's the spirit.

I have not been this disappointed

since I owned a
racehorse with Al Michaels

and O.J. Simpson called Nags to Riches.

It's 5:00 A.M. Let's go.

No, I want...

I want to hear the rest of the story.

Sorry, kid.

Everybody always wants to
hear the end of the story.

That's the one gift that God gave me

that he did not wrap in shit.

Let's get out of here.

Too bad you can't get famous
jut for telling stories, huh?

Wait! Hey! Wait!

That's it! That's it!

Listen. We need something...

that will play to your strengths

of loving the sound of your own voice

and talking forever.

Podcasts.

It's like radio, but
it's not on the radio.

I mean, if you'd asked me

who's more likely to commit murder,

I would have said Al
Michaels, not O.J. Simpson.

One time at the track, I
saw Al Michaels slap a dwarf

because he did not like
the look on his face.

I said, "Al, that's
just the man's face."

I don't know, there's a
lesson in there somewhere,

but I'll be darned if I know what it is.

Anywhoodles, I have been Jim Brockmire,

and this has been my first podcast.

I... Are you kidding?

I... Uh, pl... Before we leave you,

yet one more message from Stamps.com.

My goodness.

Ah!

Brockmire, what are you doing?

Shit. Sorry.

Force of habit.

Who is it?

Jim, Jules! Open up!

- Oh, my God.
- Look. Hey.

Okay, I had to come
over as soon as I heard.

- Heard what?
- "This American Life."

Jim, come here.

Or stay. It's okay.

This is... This is an excerpt
from Internet celebrity

Jim Brockmire's new
podcast, "Brock Bottom."

That's what he calls
it... it's "Brock Bottom."

Each episode of the show includes

everything from shameful
stories about his past

to these improvised rants during games.

I have to say, this is
like nothing else out there.

I cannot recommend it highly enough.

He likes him? That's neat.

That guy's voice is like a human nap.

I'm going back to bed.

Jim, you don't get it!

This is Ira Glass!

He is the King Dick
of non-profit media.

Look, getting a recommendation from him

is like...
hall-of-famer...

baseball guy saying that, um...

other baseball person is
going to be the next great...

- ...shortstop?
- I'm gonna have to insist

that you learn something about baseball.

Jim!

Come on! He vouched for you!

Hell, he recommended you!

We are in the big time now.

You may not feel it now,
but you better strap in

'cause you're about
to feel the Glass bump.

- That's right.
- Get out of my house.

Okay. All right.

- Get ready, Jim!
- Get out.

- Get ready for it!
- Get out!

Today, we bring you
stories of comeback kids.

Coming up later, and your bird can sing!

The incredible tale of one endangered

California condor, but first...

Blast from the Pastime...

Can baseball save a town
destroyed by fracking?

Jim Brockmire thinks it can.

Never mind.

Uh, hey there.

Uh, Charles. Hey.

Um, who are all these bespectacled

and ironically dressed people?

Remember when I told
you about the Glass bump?

You got his fans.

Rich white people who feel
bad about being rich and white

who want an authentic experience
that doesn't scare them.

Uh-huh.

Howdy, folks.

Hi!

Mark!

Find the money in the stands.

If they're wearing a shirt for
a band you've never heard of,

keep the beers flowing.

Jules. What the hell is going on?

This place looks like a god
damn Vassar College reunion.

I don't have time for
your bullshit, Gary.

Pennsylvania Shale may be just

a mom-and-pop
natural-gas company

that barely makes $2 billion a year.

But if you and Ira Glass

think you can crush us
under the boot of NPR,

get ready for a big surprise.

We can fight just as dirty as...

Nobody fights dirtier than me.

Hey, anybody seen Brockmire?

That was a direct hit. Direct hit.

We are definitely not the only
Brock-Heads in our neighborhood.

- Brock-Heads? - We
would love to lure you

out to Brooklyn for a show.

- Yeah.
- So, uh, honey...

- Here.
- Okay.

Huh. Well, thank you, folks.

Very nice to meet both of you.

Thank you. Thanks. Thank you.

Come on, honey.

Okay.

- Hi.
- Oh!

Excuse me a second.

Hey.

- Hey.
- Look at this!

Can you believe this,
darling? I owe it all to you.

Um, actually, I'm the one
who came up with the podcasts.

Yeah, but she was the
one that convinced me

to follow my dream, all right?

A dream which is looking like

it's gonna get me the hell
out of Morristown, baby.

So we are celebrating tonight,

and I mean big time.

- I can't drink.
- What are you talking about?

Uh-oh. You got one of them...
one of them UTIs again?

You on the antibiotics? All right.

No booze, no booze. Hey.

We'll just stick to the yayo.

I'm pregnant.

Oh.

Attaboy.

Sorry.

Oh, Jesus.

Get out of here!