Hardball Theatre: Opening Day

Opening Day

A Play in One Act By Keith Good

(Lights up on an office. Dave and Mike approach the copier where Sheena is busy making copies.)

Dave: Bro…

Mike: Bro.

Sheena: (Looks over her shoulder) Bro?

Dave and Mike: Opening Day!

Sheena: Not again.

Dave: You got the tickets?

Mike: (Reaching into his back pocket) Two of the finest third deck seats in the city, right here. (Produces two tickets) Row GZ. Only $120 on StubHub, bro.

Dave: Sweet deal.

Sheena: I can’t believe you guys. Every year…

Dave: What’s that, Sheena?

Sheena: (Turns from her copies) That’s not work-appropriate attire. A blue afro wig, Dave? Really? Half your face is painted blue!

Mike: Opening day, Sheena.

Sheena: And Mike… KISS face paint and biceps tassels? You look like a roadie for Stryper.

Mike: I’m the Ultimate Warrior. We’re going to get on the stadium jumbotron.

Sheena: Can’t the Ultimate Warrior at least wear a shirt?

Mike: (Flexing his biceps) Sun’s out, guns out.

Sheena: Ugh. It’s 40 degrees with a chance of snow.

Mike: (Still flexing) Opening Day.

Dave: Opening Day.

Sheena: I hope you’re not meeting any clients, dressed like that.

Dave: Oh I’m meeting a client. Name’s Bud.

Sheena: Bud?

Dave: Weiser.

Sheena: Of course.

Dave: Me an’ Mike, we’re going to meet our Buddy Weiser, what…? Six or seven times?

Mike: Opening Day Drinking Game?

Dave: Yes! Opening Day Drinking Game.

Sheena: You’re in your 40’s. You fall asleep trying to stay awake for Charlie Rose. You’ll blackout by first pitch.

Mike: Every time our high-priced DH or our walking-ACL-tear of a First Baseman blasts one out of the park, we blast a tallboy.

Dave: Yes! We will destroy all the tallboys in the tri-state area!

Mike: (Suddenly very somber) This is our year, man.

Dave: (Also somber) Our year. That pitcher we snagged from the California Penal league is gonna be lights out.

Mike: Spending $20 mil on four veteran outfielders?

Dave: Best GM in the league, bro.

Sheena: I hope you’re not going to get kicked out of the stadium again this year.

Mike: Opening Day, Sheena.

Dave: And World Series!

Mike: World Series.

(Mike and Dave go through a very intricate choreography of high, low and middle fives.)

Sheena: Don’t you have actual work to do?

Mike: We are working. We’re going to copy these papers.

Sheena: Those papers say “Yankees suck.”

Dave: The Yankees do suck. We’re educating the kids.

Mike: All this hard work (stretches)…You know what, Mike, I think we should take a long lunch today.

Dave: Yeah, like 1:05 pm to 4:30.

Sheena: You guys are the worst. Why did you even bother coming in, only to skip out at lunch? So your wives wouldn’t see their husbands in makeup and reconsider monogamy?

Mike and Dave: Opening Day!

(Mike and Dave high-five over Sheena’s head. They pause in tableaux. Then, lights down. When the lights come back up, Sheena is again making copies, alone. Mike and David slouch in to the copy room, hair mussed and arms dangling, every step a chore.)

Sheena: So how was “Opening day?!”

Mike: Ugh. Sheena, could you not shout?

Dave: Can’t believe we lost 12-0.

Mike: Other dudes were roid raging.

Dave: Ump fucked us.

Sheena: Oh, so you didn’t get kicked out?

Dave: Uh…

Mike: I’m so hungover…did we get kicked out?

Dave: It’s all fuzz after that mascot punched me.

Mike: So, uh, you wanna long lunch today? I can get upper-deck seats for $5 on StubHub

Dave: $5 for upper deck? What a rip.

Sheena: But yesterday…

Dave: They giving away a bobblehead?

Mike: (Checks phone) It doesn’t say anything here.

Dave: Hard pass.

(An uncomfortable pause)

Mike: See you next year, dude?

Dave: Yep. See you next year.

Sheena: (shouts) Opening Day!

(Mike and Dave groan and cover their ears, shrink away from Sheena. Lights down.)

END.

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