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: Mom, put down the phone. I don't think I have a concussion. I just think I'm dead.
: Maybe I should be lookin' in the same mirror you're lookin' in, kid. Tommy
: No, I wouldn't really recommend that.
: Just try and hit my bat, OK? Timber
: [Timber's pitch hits Wings in the groin
] Sorry. Wings
: [falls to ground in pain
] Geez... Wrong bat, Timber! DP
: Guys, look at this. Q
: What are we gonna do about Timber's control problems? Tommy
: I'll bet Wings has got some good ideas. Wings
: [high-pitched voice
] Timber, if I live... you'rE dead!
: AHHHHHH! Sara
: Well, hello there, sleepyhead. Tommy
: W-w-where am I? Sara
: You're home, sweetheart. Tommy
: No, no, no, something's really wrong. Mom? Am I dead? Sara
: Now why would you ask such a silly thing? Tommy
: Because I am wearing my Speed racer PJs that I havent seen in 30 years. Sara
: All right, fine, I got a little backed up on the laundry; there's still a lot of unpacking to do. Don't worry, your Batman and Robin ones haven't run off. Tommy
: Mom. Do you know how old I am? Sara
: 12, almost 13. Sara
: No. I'm 41 years old, I live in Beverley Hills, I have a spokin' hot girlfriend who has her own reality show, I play center field for the Dodgers? And somehow I'm back here. And you're here, and the pancakes smell so real... that I think I am gonna throw up.
: [after explaining why he's going to play on Neeman's tam
] I can't risk my future for the sandlot, can I? Timber
: [his first lines
] Maybe you're the one who shouldn't speak for a while.