"PUT THAT ACCEPTANCE SPEECH DOWN!!!"

Blake: "The Hall of Fame is for closers only!

"Do you think I'm fucking with you? I am not fucking with you. I'm here from Cooperstown. I'm here from the BBWAA. And I'm here on a mission of mercy. Your name's Blyleven?"

Blyleven: "Yeah."

Blake: "You call yourself a Hall of Famer, you son of a bitch?"

Dawson: "I don't have to listen to this shit."

Blake: "You certainly don't pal. 'Cause the good news is -- you're not a Hall of Famer. The bad news is you've got, all you got, just one year to earn your plaques, starting tonight. Starting with tonight's sit.

"Oh, have I got your attention now? Good. 'Cause we're adding a little something to next year's balloting. As you all know, first prize is induction into the Hall of Fame and baseball immortality. Anyone want to see second prize? Second prize's a set of steak knives. Third prize is permanent obscurity.

"You get the picture? You're laughing now? You got stats. You spent years accumulating those stats. You can't get inducted with the stats you're given, you ARE shit, hit the bricks pal and beat it 'cause you are going out!!!"

Blyleven: "But my winning percentage was weak."

Blake: "'Your winning percentage was weak?' Fucking winning percentage is weak? You're weak. I've been a Hall of Fame voter for fifteen years."

Dawson: "What's your name?"

Blake: "FUCK YOU, that's my name!! You know why, Mister? 'Cause you played half your career in Canada for a team that no longer exists, and I drive an $80,000 BMW. That's my name!!

(to Blyleven) "And your name is 'you're wanting.' And you can't play in a man's game. You can't get inducted, go home and tell your wife your troubles.

(to everyone again) "Because only one thing counts in this life! Get them to check your name on the ballot which is dotted! You hear me, you fucking faggots?"


Blake: "A-B-C. A-always, B-be, C-closing. Always be closing! Always be closing!!

"You got the writers comin' in; you think they came in to get out of the rain? Guy doesn't vote for you unless he wants you inducted. They're sitting out there waiting to give you their Hall of Fame vote! Are you gonna take it? Are you man enough to take it?

(to Dawson) "What's the problem pal? You. Dawson."

Dawson: "You're such a hero, why you coming down here and waste your time on a bunch of bums?"

(Blake sits and shows Dawson a 1993 Andre Dawson Finest Refractor)

Blake: "You see this card?"

Dawson: "Yeah."

Blake: "That refractor cost more than a Gem Mint '10' of your rookie card. You see, pal, that's who I am. And you're nothing. Nice guy? I don't give a shit. Good father? Fuck you -- go home and play with your kids!!

(to everyone) "I can go out there tonight with the materials you got, and buy up every remaining copy of Andre Dawson's 1993 Finest Refractor on eBay not already in Andre Dawson's personal collection! Tonight! In two hours!"

"Can you?"

"Can you?"

"You wanna get elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame, Close!! The votes are out there, you pick it up, you're in. You don't -- you're going to be shining my shoes."


(Blake takes out large stack of red index cards tied together with string from his briefcase)

Blake: "These are the new ballots. The Glengarry 2009 Hall of Fame ballots. And to you, they're gold. And you don't get them. Because voting for you is just throwing them away."

(Blake hands the stack to Peter Gammons) "They're for closers."