Based on my 1st Prize Winner for Best Screenplay at the 2009 Rhode Island International Film Festival.
"Brokeback Mountain" meets "Bull Durham". Brad Hawley realizes his dream of playing professional baseball when the New Orleans Breakers draft him...
It was 11 PM before the players finished showering and changing before heading to J. Tim's. It was the middle of the week, and the Wolves had the place practically to themselves. Brad could see why J. Tim's was popular -- plenty of Hi-Definition TVs around the bar with a great menu -- The Buffalo Wings were top-notch. And Brad was bonding with his teammates. With his first game as a pro out of the way, and the hero on top of that, he allowed himself to unwind, chowing down on some wings, sipping an iced tea -- he wouldn't dare try to get served -- and was finding himself enjoying a game he had never played before -- darts.
Steven Chase sat alone at the bar, nursing a beer. He looked up at the TVs and caught the highlights of a game between New Orleans and Oakland. Another loss for the hapless Breakers and in front of a handful of fans in an antiquated stadium by the bay that Oakland had been perptually threatening to leave. Yet, he wished he were there instead of a small pub in Plainville, Connecticut. The suspension burned him up. He gulped what was left of his Nantucket Ale, and ordered another.
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Jaime Marquez threw a dart and missed the bullseye. "Vete a la mierda!"
Jason Lowell laughed while Sully mocked him. "You pitch better than you throw darts."
Jaimie yanked the darts off the board and replied in broken English as he handed the darts to Brad, "I have a bigger target in baseball."
Brad got up on his toes as he took aim, and threw three nice shots.
"Damn." Sully remarked as he high-fived Brad. His attention quickly turned to the entrance.
Ashley Cosgrove and her friend Susie walked in with a flock of greenflies -- groupies -- all dressed to the nines in their summer best, in pursuit of their jock du jour. The heat coming off these young women was hotter than the summer evening New England air. Susie leaned in and whispered to Ashley, "He's hot, Ash. Jail bait, but hot."
Ashley corrected her. "He's not jail bat, he's eighteen."
Another greenfly chimed in, "I don't care how old he is, I'd ring out his jersey and drink his sweat!"
Susie responded, "Steady."
As they approached Brad by the dart board, Ashley removed a wad of cash from her purse that was wrapped in a rubber band.
"Hey, Ashley."
"Great game tonight, Brad."
"Thanks."
Susie brushed up against him as she breezed by Brad, her fingertips across his ass. Brad realized he'd been groped. It meant nothing to him. He said nothing and ignored Susie's flirtatious grin.
Ashley handed Brad the money. "This is for you."
Brad's eyes widen. He was puzzled. "What's this?"
"We pass around a hat for the player who hits the first home run of the season." Ashley explained.
"It's tradition!" Susie added. Although she copped a feel on Brad, her attention was on Zack Goldman, who just left the men's room. She had her eyes on him the second he walked out of the locker room in his uniform. Zack was small in stature and had a young, youthful face that that betrayed his 21 years -- he looked younger than Brad. Susie liked that.
