i like this one. good bat speed. only twelve years old, out here four, five hours everyday. his mom tells me he's missing school. i say, yeah, but.  have you seen his swing?
i'm showing his older brother to the yankees on monday.
they don't know what they missed with you. it's cool though. they'll be knocking on your door, offering millions when you turn into a superstar. you'll see.
nothing like playing for a crowd of new yorkers. they're even louder than dominicans.
it's great. but you need to get to kansas city before you start thinking about new york. know what i mean?
yep.
maybe.
not tonight. but give your mom a kiss for me, okay?
c'mon, nelson! fire it in, baby!
don't give me any shit, kid. i taught you everything you know.
i'm damn proud of you, kid. your father would be, too.
not all. just forty percent.
i spent the best years of my life playing in the states. life gives you a lot of opportunities, but baseball only gives you one. enjoy every minute of it.
how's your new curve?
good. here.
your autograph.
i'm kidding, you arrogant prick. it's so you can write your family.  and me, too.  if you feel like it.
jesus, miguel, what the hell happened?
i heard. you're making me look bad. what are you doing there?
where you gonna go? the season's over.  your visa's expired.
i can talk to alvarez.  but i don't know. nobody's happy about this.
look, miguel--