Married with Children (1986–1997): Season 5, Episode 4 - The Unnatural - full transcript
Al is cut from the neighborhood softball team just before the big game. When his all-star replacement is knocked out in the last inning, however, his team and family have to come crawling back.
I can't believe we lost again.
Well, it's not
your fault, honey.
You played great.
You played great, too, Mom.
And you played a good game too.
Gee, if we all played
such a good game,
I wonder why we lost.
What are you lookin' at?
Yeah, I know I
made a few errors.
For instance,
one, two and three.
I just have a couple of
nagging injuries, that's all.
I'll be fine for
next week's game.
Trust me.
I'm still in my prime.
Spasm! Help me!
Breathe through the pain, Daddy.
Breathe through the pain.
Breathe.
Yes.
Aah.
Ah, that's better.
Okay, kids.
Why don't you take
the bats downstairs.
Somewhere out of Daddy's reach.
You know, next to success?
Honey, I just
asked them to leave
because you know I
don't like insulting you
in front of the children.
But it was embarrassing,
the way you missed
everything out there today.
It was like you were
in the bathroom.
Peg, I told you.
It's all injury-related.
Believe me, when I heal,
I'll be batting .400 again.
In both cases.
And I'll tell ya something else.
It wasn't me who
cost us that game.
It was those stupid calls
by that stupid umpire.
I really believe it
was personal, Peg.
You stink.
It was so much
fun calling you out.
I know it was little,
compared to the big
out God called on you...
but still, it was worth
dressing up like a Ninja Turtle.
I'm glad you're
happy, rooster bait.
You're the reason we lost.
Your bad, 10-minute-long calls.
Hey.
A lot of fans feel I
add color to the game
with my patented steeeee-rike!
Besides,
it diverts attention from you,
slinking back to the dugout
after yet another mighty whiff.
Marcie, Al's had a rough day.
Why don't you
just sit down here,
and we'll talk about
something else.
You really stunk today, Al.
You know, Al is so typical
of a man when he gets his age.
In his head, he
thinks he's still young,
but look at him.
Two hundred pounds
of hairless, mindless,
aging monkey meat.
And you know,
that's just the part
oozing between the buttons.
Oh, it's too bad some men
don't know how to give
up their sports gracefully,
instead of lingering
on like big babies.
Yeah, doggone it,
if we could only be
comfortable with our age
like you darn gals.
You know, I mean in the
morning you go in the bathroom...
A little blush,
a little mascara.
And voilà.
You got an old
woman scared of rain.
Then you try to clean-and-jerk
your breasts into a bra, and...
ease some exercise pants
over that front and back belly,
and go down to the market
and flirt with the bag boy.
I guess what I'm
trying to say is,
it's just pretty pathetic
when we guys try
to cling to our youth.
Well, I'll tell you
something about women
you may not know.
We always get even.
So let's just take a
look at who's umpiring
next week's championship game.
Well, jeez, Louise.
It's me.
It's a good thing for you
I'm big enough not
to hold a grudge.
I'm gonna go home and
practice for the game.
You're out!
You're out!
You, sir, stink,
and you're out.
Out.
Out.
Out!
Al, when you were
talking about women,
you didn't mean me, did ya?
I never do.
Thanks, honey.
Well...
Ow!
I'm gonna go on upstairs
now and take a shower.
What?
After only three ballgames?
Can't I take a shower
without there being a reason?
And I don't want
to hear any more
about me losing that game.
People say I'm getting
old. I'm not getting old!
I can still do
everything I always did.
God, how many
more steps are there?
Well, we got the
ice pack on his back,
heat pack on his neck
and a six-pack down his throat.
So how is he?
Sweaty, drunk and blue.
Gee, just like the
night we made you.
Mrs. Bundy.
Bundy children.
Is your husband here?
Tsk.
No. I'm cooking feet for dinner.
Of course he's home.
You want me to go call him?
No, no. We've got something
we want to talk over with you.
As you know, we
still have high hopes
to win the league
championship next week.
Don't worry, Daddy
says that he'll be ready.
Let's face facts.
Your father stinks.
I say we should
dump the old dog.
Dump him?
You can't.
How 'bout if we just
move him to first base
and not throw to him?
What "The Say Duh
Kid" is trying to say...
is that you can't take
softball away from Daddy.
I mean why don't
you just lock him out
of his own bathroom,
while you're at it?
That's it.
Leave the man with
nothing, why don't you?
Oh, now, now, easy, dear.
They can't get rid of your Dad.
The championship
game is next week,
and they cannot play
with one man short.
As luck would have it,
we happened on a replacement.
We'd like you to meet Sven.
Oh, Sven!
He bats .380,
he's got a cannon for an arm,
and he runs like children
from your husband.
Now, all those in favor
of dumping Bundy,
raise your hand.
Oh.
Gee.
How'd that get up there?
Mom.
You're not really gonna
vote Dad out, are you?
Honey, it's for
the championship.
It has nothing to do
with playing with Sven.
His tensed buttocks
in his tight uniform.
The autumn sun glinting on
his glistening, heaving pecs.
Come on, everybody.
Let's welcome Sven to the team.
Ooh.
Nice game, baby.
What do you say, young Bundys?
We need your votes.
According to team rules,
the vote has to be unanimous.
It can be unanimous or out loud.
I don't care.
You're still not
getting my vote.
It's just like I wrote in
my fourth grade essay:
Daddy good, sleepy now.
Yeah.
We don't care about winning.
Now, that man loves the
game, and we love that man.
Besides, if we
voted against him,
he'd kick the living
crap out of us.
You know, you'll have
to forgive the kids.
They still think of
Al as their father.
Hey, it's the team!
Hey...
Ah, sorry, guys,
about that little
slip-up this afternoon,
but, uh, don't worry about me.
I'll be there for you next week.
Who's the guy with the
backpack shaped like my wife?
Your replacement.
Oh, good.
That way, I can concentrate
more on baseball.
Watch that morning kiss, buddy.
No... No, Al.
We meant your replacement
on the team. Uh...
How can we put this gently?
Uh... We think ya stink.
Yeah.
Oh, stink, do I?
Let me paint a picture for you.
May 6, 1982.
New Market Mallers, 0 and 10.
But then,
out of the shoe fields
came a fresh-faced kid,
with fire in his eyes
and thunder in his back.
Enter the Bundy era.
Let's remember
some great moments
from the man whose jockstrap
none of you are fit to carry.
Or get within 100 yards of.
Remember with me, if you will,
June 9, 1983.
Game on the line.
The opposing team
drills one in to left field,
where you, Norris,
were standing frozen.
Bundy sprints to the
fence and spears it.
Mallers win. And Bundy? MVP.
Let us remember now
Bundy on the base paths.
A little dribbler
hit by you, Nessen.
Bundy,
needing to score
to win the game,
lowered his head
into the toughest
catcher in the game,
and took out Mrs. Shephouse.
Separating her shoulder
and ending her career.
Mallers win,
and Bundy, once again, MVP.
You still wanna bench me?
Yeah. You stink.
Well, you can't.
'Cause I know you
need a unanimous vote
to get me out of
next week's game.
And I happen to know
that my family here
wouldn't do that
to their old man.
Best your vote
could've been was,
uh...
six to three.
Seven to two.
Why, Peg?
Well, it was for the
good of the team.
Al, you gotta feel this.
I'm gonna call for
one more vote, Bundy.
You can call your son
home from ballet school,
for all I care.
I know I have the
votes of my children.
All right.
I don't want to sway you,
but don't you youngsters
want to win the
first championship
in Mallers' history?
Well, not if it's
gonna hurt my Daddy.
Well, what about free
lunches at my restaurant?
Can we see a menu first?
Wait a minute!
Now, kids, before we vote,
may I share a little
rhyme I learned
when I was both your ages?
♪ D is for de many
pies I made you ♪
♪ A is for the apple In my eye ♪
♪ D is for de dish
You ate the pie in ♪
♪ D is for de apple Of my eye ♪
Y? Because I love you.
♪ Put them all together ♪
♪ They spell Daddy ♪
I'm sorry.
Take your vote now.
And starting for Al Bundy,
Sven Hunkstrom.
Oh, come on, honey.
Don't be bitter.
You can still be of
some use to the team.
Why, a few of us
would like ice cream.
Well, excuse me, Mr. Long-Face.
Oh, don't you know we did
this because we care about you?
Oh, really?
Y-you know what
really hurts, Peg?
It's the fact that you
didn't even bother...
Shh! Sven's up.
Boo.
♪ Born under a bad sign ♪
♪ Been down since
I began to crawl ♪
♪ If it wasn't for bad luck ♪
♪ I wouldn't have
No luck at all ♪
♪ Bad luck and trouble ♪
♪ Is my only friend ♪
♪ I been on my own ♪
♪ Ever since I was 10 ♪
♪ Born under a bad sign ♪
♪ I been down since
I began to crawl ♪
♪ If it wasn't for bad luck ♪
♪ I wouldn't have
No luck at all ♪
♪ If it wasn't for bad luck ♪
♪ I wouldn't have
No luck at all ♪
Okay.
Bases are loaded,
and we've only got one out.
Bud, you're up.
Wish me luck, Dad.
That good enough luck for you?
Going...
It's going...
Caught on the warning track!
Tough luck.
Way to let the team down.
Heeee's
out!
What do we do now?
We have to have
someone to bat for him.
We've only one player left.
Excuse me.
Mrs. Bundy?
Oh, yeah.
This'll be real easy.
Al...
Honey.
Hey, would you go
up there and bat?
The guys would
really like it a lot.
Really?
Gee, does everyone want me?
I mean, even my family?
I mean, I'm... I'm
old, and I stink.
What's it gonna take
to get you to go hit?
♪ D is for de many
pies You made us ♪
♪ A is for the
apple In his eye ♪
♪ D is for the dish
You made the pie in ♪
♪ D is for de apple In his eye ♪
♪ Y? Because we love you ♪
♪ Put them all together ♪
♪ They spell... ♪
Make me feel it.
♪ Daddy ♪
Hat.
Thunder rod.
Batting for Sven Hunkstrom,
Al Bundy.
You know he's gonna strike out.
Strike!
What's he doing?
Framing his greatest failure.
Strike two!
Come on, kids.
Daddy can get a ride home
on the shoulders of
the opposing team.
Come on, Bundy!
You can do it!
Come on, Bundy!
It's going...
It's going...
It's gone!
We've done it!
Well,
you know, we're never
gonna hear the end of this one.
Gee, how can you tell?
The way he's making
fire engine noises
as he rounds the bases?
Well, look closely, kids.
Something you
may never see again.
Behold.
A shoe salesman in triumph.
All right, Dad!
Well, cross the plate, Bundy.
Cross the plate!
In due time.
Microphone, please.
Before I cross home plate
and bring home the first-ever
championship to the Mallers,
I would just like to say that,
today, today, today, today...
I consider you, you, you...
the luckiest team
on the face of the
earth, earth, earth...
And in closing, I'd like to say,
I hate you all.
I thank no one but myself.
As of today, I, Al Bundy,
am finished with baseball.
M.
V.
P!
Move it!
Hey, kid, how you doin'?
All right.
All right!
Boy, that center
fielder's gonna get burned
playing that shallow.
Heads up!
Who is that guy?
I think it's him.
Who's him?
Al Bundy.
Did you ever see him play?
I only heard about him. Yeah...
I saw him play.
He was the best.
Ran, threw, sold shoes.
Heh.
He was the best.
Is that him?
Nah.
That's not him.
He said he'd had
enough of the game. Heh.
Well, it's not
your fault, honey.
You played great.
You played great, too, Mom.
And you played a good game too.
Gee, if we all played
such a good game,
I wonder why we lost.
What are you lookin' at?
Yeah, I know I
made a few errors.
For instance,
one, two and three.
I just have a couple of
nagging injuries, that's all.
I'll be fine for
next week's game.
Trust me.
I'm still in my prime.
Spasm! Help me!
Breathe through the pain, Daddy.
Breathe through the pain.
Breathe.
Yes.
Aah.
Ah, that's better.
Okay, kids.
Why don't you take
the bats downstairs.
Somewhere out of Daddy's reach.
You know, next to success?
Honey, I just
asked them to leave
because you know I
don't like insulting you
in front of the children.
But it was embarrassing,
the way you missed
everything out there today.
It was like you were
in the bathroom.
Peg, I told you.
It's all injury-related.
Believe me, when I heal,
I'll be batting .400 again.
In both cases.
And I'll tell ya something else.
It wasn't me who
cost us that game.
It was those stupid calls
by that stupid umpire.
I really believe it
was personal, Peg.
You stink.
It was so much
fun calling you out.
I know it was little,
compared to the big
out God called on you...
but still, it was worth
dressing up like a Ninja Turtle.
I'm glad you're
happy, rooster bait.
You're the reason we lost.
Your bad, 10-minute-long calls.
Hey.
A lot of fans feel I
add color to the game
with my patented steeeee-rike!
Besides,
it diverts attention from you,
slinking back to the dugout
after yet another mighty whiff.
Marcie, Al's had a rough day.
Why don't you
just sit down here,
and we'll talk about
something else.
You really stunk today, Al.
You know, Al is so typical
of a man when he gets his age.
In his head, he
thinks he's still young,
but look at him.
Two hundred pounds
of hairless, mindless,
aging monkey meat.
And you know,
that's just the part
oozing between the buttons.
Oh, it's too bad some men
don't know how to give
up their sports gracefully,
instead of lingering
on like big babies.
Yeah, doggone it,
if we could only be
comfortable with our age
like you darn gals.
You know, I mean in the
morning you go in the bathroom...
A little blush,
a little mascara.
And voilà.
You got an old
woman scared of rain.
Then you try to clean-and-jerk
your breasts into a bra, and...
ease some exercise pants
over that front and back belly,
and go down to the market
and flirt with the bag boy.
I guess what I'm
trying to say is,
it's just pretty pathetic
when we guys try
to cling to our youth.
Well, I'll tell you
something about women
you may not know.
We always get even.
So let's just take a
look at who's umpiring
next week's championship game.
Well, jeez, Louise.
It's me.
It's a good thing for you
I'm big enough not
to hold a grudge.
I'm gonna go home and
practice for the game.
You're out!
You're out!
You, sir, stink,
and you're out.
Out.
Out.
Out!
Al, when you were
talking about women,
you didn't mean me, did ya?
I never do.
Thanks, honey.
Well...
Ow!
I'm gonna go on upstairs
now and take a shower.
What?
After only three ballgames?
Can't I take a shower
without there being a reason?
And I don't want
to hear any more
about me losing that game.
People say I'm getting
old. I'm not getting old!
I can still do
everything I always did.
God, how many
more steps are there?
Well, we got the
ice pack on his back,
heat pack on his neck
and a six-pack down his throat.
So how is he?
Sweaty, drunk and blue.
Gee, just like the
night we made you.
Mrs. Bundy.
Bundy children.
Is your husband here?
Tsk.
No. I'm cooking feet for dinner.
Of course he's home.
You want me to go call him?
No, no. We've got something
we want to talk over with you.
As you know, we
still have high hopes
to win the league
championship next week.
Don't worry, Daddy
says that he'll be ready.
Let's face facts.
Your father stinks.
I say we should
dump the old dog.
Dump him?
You can't.
How 'bout if we just
move him to first base
and not throw to him?
What "The Say Duh
Kid" is trying to say...
is that you can't take
softball away from Daddy.
I mean why don't
you just lock him out
of his own bathroom,
while you're at it?
That's it.
Leave the man with
nothing, why don't you?
Oh, now, now, easy, dear.
They can't get rid of your Dad.
The championship
game is next week,
and they cannot play
with one man short.
As luck would have it,
we happened on a replacement.
We'd like you to meet Sven.
Oh, Sven!
He bats .380,
he's got a cannon for an arm,
and he runs like children
from your husband.
Now, all those in favor
of dumping Bundy,
raise your hand.
Oh.
Gee.
How'd that get up there?
Mom.
You're not really gonna
vote Dad out, are you?
Honey, it's for
the championship.
It has nothing to do
with playing with Sven.
His tensed buttocks
in his tight uniform.
The autumn sun glinting on
his glistening, heaving pecs.
Come on, everybody.
Let's welcome Sven to the team.
Ooh.
Nice game, baby.
What do you say, young Bundys?
We need your votes.
According to team rules,
the vote has to be unanimous.
It can be unanimous or out loud.
I don't care.
You're still not
getting my vote.
It's just like I wrote in
my fourth grade essay:
Daddy good, sleepy now.
Yeah.
We don't care about winning.
Now, that man loves the
game, and we love that man.
Besides, if we
voted against him,
he'd kick the living
crap out of us.
You know, you'll have
to forgive the kids.
They still think of
Al as their father.
Hey, it's the team!
Hey...
Ah, sorry, guys,
about that little
slip-up this afternoon,
but, uh, don't worry about me.
I'll be there for you next week.
Who's the guy with the
backpack shaped like my wife?
Your replacement.
Oh, good.
That way, I can concentrate
more on baseball.
Watch that morning kiss, buddy.
No... No, Al.
We meant your replacement
on the team. Uh...
How can we put this gently?
Uh... We think ya stink.
Yeah.
Oh, stink, do I?
Let me paint a picture for you.
May 6, 1982.
New Market Mallers, 0 and 10.
But then,
out of the shoe fields
came a fresh-faced kid,
with fire in his eyes
and thunder in his back.
Enter the Bundy era.
Let's remember
some great moments
from the man whose jockstrap
none of you are fit to carry.
Or get within 100 yards of.
Remember with me, if you will,
June 9, 1983.
Game on the line.
The opposing team
drills one in to left field,
where you, Norris,
were standing frozen.
Bundy sprints to the
fence and spears it.
Mallers win. And Bundy? MVP.
Let us remember now
Bundy on the base paths.
A little dribbler
hit by you, Nessen.
Bundy,
needing to score
to win the game,
lowered his head
into the toughest
catcher in the game,
and took out Mrs. Shephouse.
Separating her shoulder
and ending her career.
Mallers win,
and Bundy, once again, MVP.
You still wanna bench me?
Yeah. You stink.
Well, you can't.
'Cause I know you
need a unanimous vote
to get me out of
next week's game.
And I happen to know
that my family here
wouldn't do that
to their old man.
Best your vote
could've been was,
uh...
six to three.
Seven to two.
Why, Peg?
Well, it was for the
good of the team.
Al, you gotta feel this.
I'm gonna call for
one more vote, Bundy.
You can call your son
home from ballet school,
for all I care.
I know I have the
votes of my children.
All right.
I don't want to sway you,
but don't you youngsters
want to win the
first championship
in Mallers' history?
Well, not if it's
gonna hurt my Daddy.
Well, what about free
lunches at my restaurant?
Can we see a menu first?
Wait a minute!
Now, kids, before we vote,
may I share a little
rhyme I learned
when I was both your ages?
♪ D is for de many
pies I made you ♪
♪ A is for the apple In my eye ♪
♪ D is for de dish
You ate the pie in ♪
♪ D is for de apple Of my eye ♪
Y? Because I love you.
♪ Put them all together ♪
♪ They spell Daddy ♪
I'm sorry.
Take your vote now.
And starting for Al Bundy,
Sven Hunkstrom.
Oh, come on, honey.
Don't be bitter.
You can still be of
some use to the team.
Why, a few of us
would like ice cream.
Well, excuse me, Mr. Long-Face.
Oh, don't you know we did
this because we care about you?
Oh, really?
Y-you know what
really hurts, Peg?
It's the fact that you
didn't even bother...
Shh! Sven's up.
Boo.
♪ Born under a bad sign ♪
♪ Been down since
I began to crawl ♪
♪ If it wasn't for bad luck ♪
♪ I wouldn't have
No luck at all ♪
♪ Bad luck and trouble ♪
♪ Is my only friend ♪
♪ I been on my own ♪
♪ Ever since I was 10 ♪
♪ Born under a bad sign ♪
♪ I been down since
I began to crawl ♪
♪ If it wasn't for bad luck ♪
♪ I wouldn't have
No luck at all ♪
♪ If it wasn't for bad luck ♪
♪ I wouldn't have
No luck at all ♪
Okay.
Bases are loaded,
and we've only got one out.
Bud, you're up.
Wish me luck, Dad.
That good enough luck for you?
Going...
It's going...
Caught on the warning track!
Tough luck.
Way to let the team down.
Heeee's
out!
What do we do now?
We have to have
someone to bat for him.
We've only one player left.
Excuse me.
Mrs. Bundy?
Oh, yeah.
This'll be real easy.
Al...
Honey.
Hey, would you go
up there and bat?
The guys would
really like it a lot.
Really?
Gee, does everyone want me?
I mean, even my family?
I mean, I'm... I'm
old, and I stink.
What's it gonna take
to get you to go hit?
♪ D is for de many
pies You made us ♪
♪ A is for the
apple In his eye ♪
♪ D is for the dish
You made the pie in ♪
♪ D is for de apple In his eye ♪
♪ Y? Because we love you ♪
♪ Put them all together ♪
♪ They spell... ♪
Make me feel it.
♪ Daddy ♪
Hat.
Thunder rod.
Batting for Sven Hunkstrom,
Al Bundy.
You know he's gonna strike out.
Strike!
What's he doing?
Framing his greatest failure.
Strike two!
Come on, kids.
Daddy can get a ride home
on the shoulders of
the opposing team.
Come on, Bundy!
You can do it!
Come on, Bundy!
It's going...
It's going...
It's gone!
We've done it!
Well,
you know, we're never
gonna hear the end of this one.
Gee, how can you tell?
The way he's making
fire engine noises
as he rounds the bases?
Well, look closely, kids.
Something you
may never see again.
Behold.
A shoe salesman in triumph.
All right, Dad!
Well, cross the plate, Bundy.
Cross the plate!
In due time.
Microphone, please.
Before I cross home plate
and bring home the first-ever
championship to the Mallers,
I would just like to say that,
today, today, today, today...
I consider you, you, you...
the luckiest team
on the face of the
earth, earth, earth...
And in closing, I'd like to say,
I hate you all.
I thank no one but myself.
As of today, I, Al Bundy,
am finished with baseball.
M.
V.
P!
Move it!
Hey, kid, how you doin'?
All right.
All right!
Boy, that center
fielder's gonna get burned
playing that shallow.
Heads up!
Who is that guy?
I think it's him.
Who's him?
Al Bundy.
Did you ever see him play?
I only heard about him. Yeah...
I saw him play.
He was the best.
Ran, threw, sold shoes.
Heh.
He was the best.
Is that him?
Nah.
That's not him.
He said he'd had
enough of the game. Heh.