My name is Cleveland Brown
And I am proud to be
Right back in my hometown With my new family
There's old friends and new friends And even a bear
Through good times and bad times It's true love we share
And so I found a place Where everyone will know
My happy mustache face This is The Cleveland Show
Bitching bods. - Totally awesome.
I ain't afraid of no ghost.
You ladies want to ride in my brand-new '84 Trans Am?
Forget about those sophomore chicks, Terry.
We're graduating this year.
Class of '84.
Man, I can't wait for the 1984 Olympics this year.
It was 1984.
All right, you animals, listen up now.
Our man Cleveland Brown is officially a legend.
Not only did he win last night's game with a home run in the bottom of the ninth...
...but Coach McFall said they're gonna retire his number after the season.
To Hot Brown Number Nine.
- Yeah! - Yeah!
Who shot J. R?
Are y'all drinking beer?
Hey. Wally Farker, right? You want in?
It's Farquhare.
And, no, I don't want in.
But in is what I'm gonna turn you...
...in to the principal.
Oh, come on. All we're doing is letting off a little steam.
Don't touch me. That's how you get AIDS.
Ha. What Wally doesn't know is that I'm wearing a condom right now.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to report you to the principal.
- Uh-uh. - What you talking about, Wallace?
Hold this.
Hey, guys, look. He's peeing himself.
Oh, no.
It's all over my thigh and pocket contents.
Here I am
Rock you like a hurricane
He peed on his thigh and pocket contents. Hey, you want a cold one?
Does Amy Winehouse pick at her skin a lot?
Man, all this talk about the old baseball field.
Know what I say we do?
Start a fight with those old ladies in hats and purple dresses at the mall?
No. Ha-ha-ha.
Come on, get serious.
No, I was gonna... Ha-ha-ha.
Okay, seriously. I was gonna say we...
Yeah!
Did you see me? I was all, "Yeah!" Ha-ha-ha.
Now, if I may finish the point I was making earlier...
...we should stop by the old ball field. - Oh, cool.
Maybe after that, we can drive over and visit my daughter.
I haven't seen her for a year and a half.
We'll see how we're doing on time.
Look at this place.
The bleachers are covered with racist, occasionally hilarious graffiti.
I'm surprised the team can even play on this mess.
Oh, no. There is no team.
When Wally became principal, he disbanded the baseball program.
Disbanded the team?
But baseball's our slowly dying national pastime.
Oh, this is a worse travesty...
...than that remake of Chinatown with Miley Cyrus.
She's my sister.
She's my daughter.
She's my sister and my daughter.
Is that wacky tobacky?
- Uh, no. - Oh, thank goodness.
- You're good kids. - Ha-ha-ha.
But watch the height of that five.
All fives must be shoulder height or below.
Mm, smells like a relaxing afternoon around here.
Hey, Wally, this school needs a baseball team.
Can't afford it. Not with the popularity of the math club...
...and the Fluffers, my a cappella singing group.
What if I could raise the money before the season starts?
Why not? I'd love to see you raise 5 grand in a week.
- Thank you. - I meant that sarcastically.
- Oh, well, then screw you. - Thank you.
- What? - You said "screw me."
I take that to mean you're attracted to me.
I'm gonna walk away now.
Bye-bye.
Love baseball, love pound cake more.
- These cakes got nuts in them? - No.
Not allergic. Don't want nuts in my mouth.
This guy gets it. This guy'll get it later.
Homophobia's no laughing matter.
Although, if you really think about what they do to each other, it is kind of funny.
I don't know how they're not giggling the entire time.
We've made $422 in five days.
We're on our way.
Terry, how'd you do?
I got us this check for $ 120,000.
How'd you do that?
Old Moneybags Waterman gave it to me.
All I had to do was reach out and take it.
Oh, Terry. I have that donation you asked about.
I'm carrying this large stack of books at the moment.
Perhaps you could just, um, reach into my pocket and take the check yourself?
Oh, whatever's clever.
Hundred and twenty grand?
Hey, thanks, Mr. Waterman. You're good people.
Think nothing of it, Terry.
Uh, I'll have what he's having.
We built this ballpark
On a gay dude's cash
Say you don't know me
Or recognize my face
Say you don't care who goes To that kind of place
- Hey, we got our field back. - You get the hell out of here.
This is great, Cleveland. Baseball is what the kids in this town need...
...so that they can focus and not listen to the...
To the Pink Floyd records all the time.
- Do you drug test the players? - No.
- Heh, awesome. - Ho, ho.
Hey, all about the civil liberties, this one.
I know my boy's a little tiny on account of we nursed him on root beer...
...but he likes to dance around like a moron and has a high tolerance for heat.
Well, I think we've got ourselves a mascot.
Cool. It smells like beer and throw-up.
Hey, Junior, where are you headed so, quote, "fast," unquote?
Inside. I've got a big day ahead of me.
You sure do. Come here.
Son, I'm so proud I can officially pass on the name given to me by Coach McFall.
Hot Brown.
What do you say, Hot Brown Jr?
No, thank you. I have no interest in baseball.
Sorry. His reaction surprised me.
Junior, at least give it a try.
I can't, Daddy. I'm signing up for a different after-school activity.
Math club.
I'm sorry. I sent away for this months ago.
Principal Farquhare says I have the second highest trigonometry scores in the whole...
Ah, ah, ah. Back up. Math club?
Who cares about math?
Right this way, Cleveland Jr. Math club sign-ups right this way.
Attaboy.
Oh, great. What else bad could happen?
Oh, shit.
Hey, here's to Cleveland for bringing baseball to town...
...so that all our sons, except his, can enjoy it.
Oh, what would Coach McFall say...
...if he knew my boy chose the math club over the baseball team?
McFall?
Isn't that the name of, uh, the old alky who mops up the floor for free drinks?
All right, gentlemen.
Before you get on that field, I want you to remember two things:
One, you're all great baseball players.
Two, overweight divorcees are an easy lay.
Think about it.
So, what do you say we go win this thing?
Let's go! Here we go!
Let's go. Let's get them!
McFALL: Sad sex on three. One, two, three:
Sad sex!
Let's go! Come on!
Coach McFall, it's you.
So I see you're still a fan of the chewing tobacco.
Hot Brown. What are you doing back in town, you big-headed SOB?
Believe it or not, I'm the Growlers' new head coach.
Unfortunately, my son would rather join the math club.
And you're just gonna sit there blubbering into your beer?
Well, not now.
What kind of coach are you? No one's born loving baseball, Hot Brown.
How could they be? It's dull as dirt.
You gotta give your son something from your past to inspire him.
Like when my dad let me nail his third wife.
He cheered me on from the closet.
Her name was Maureen. Looked like a really hot Dick Nixon.
Make baseball your hot Dick Nixon, Cleveland.
I know the perfect thing to give Junior.
Coach, I don't know how to thank you.
I need a place to live and some money.
Oh, we all do, coach. We all do.
Hey, Daddy. I was just playing truth or dare.
And I was dared to climb the bookshelf like a fireman.
- Who dared you? - Larry the Leopard.
Fourteen. You're 14.
Now, get down here. I got something I want you to have.
Wow, number nine.
I thought when you left, they retired it for good.
I'm Brett Favre-ing it.
Except I'm not being a public jagoff about it.
I want you to join the team and wear my jersey...
...and keep the Brown family legacy alive.
Wow!
Larry the Leopard, call for backup, pronto.
And Collegiate leading by one.
Thanks to a great outing by pitcher Miles Duggan.
Duggan's a junior. Only because he was held back this year...
...for what he claims is a "learning disability"...
...called, get this, dyslexia.
Ha, ha. Gesundheit.
Look, a black baseball player that doesn't speak Spanish.
- Rallo, what are you talking about? - That's rare.
- Come on, Junior. There you go.
That's Cleveland Brown Jr...
...wearing the original jersey his father made famous.
After 25 years, Hot Brown Number Nine is back at the plate.
Here's the pitch. And...
- Ball one. Little outside. - Good eye.
Ball two.
This type of excitement is what makes the game great.
Anything can happen.
The next pitch could be a strike, a hit...
...an out, ball three, or even a foul. Here we go.
Ball three.
Wow, I wonder what will happen next.
Hard to say. Here we go.
The pitch. And...
Ball four. He walks slowly.
A respectable if underwhelming return to the field...
...for the legendary number nine.
Oh, all right.
And here's the deaf powerhouse...
...Oliver "I Can't Hear You" Wilkerson.
Come on. Show me what you got. It's showtime.
The plane. The plane. That ball is flying.
Oh, hello, Mrs. Ladybug.
- Run, Junior. - Run!
Move your fat ass!
Oh, no. Come on, boy!
Double play? What was Brown thinking?
Ha, ha. Junior stinks.
Good space work, son.
Looks like number nine is a Hot Brown mess.
Brown Number Nine makes you hate the game itself.
The Growlers should retire that jersey again.
Retire it to the shit can.
Gordy, we've talked about this. You can't say that on the air.
So what? They'll just bleep it. Brown Number Nine sucks shit.
Did I tell you about the service call I got this morning?
Some Russian dude tried to hook up his cable box to his oven.
Man, what a number nine.
- Uh, I mean dumb-ass. - Oh, I get it. "A number nine." Ha, ha.
- Did you come up with that yourself? - Uh, no, I heard it somewhere.
- Where? - Everywhere.
- From who? - Everybody.
- When? - All the time.
- How? - Derogatorily.
That's it. My legacy has been besmirched.
And it's time I unbesmirch it.
Terry, I'm gonna do something I should have done a long time ago.
Oh, God. Oh, this is a gross bathroom.
Oh, there's pee on the seat.
I don't care. I'll squat.
Oh, my legs are too tired. I'll just sit in it.
I got hand sanitizer inside the truck.
I'll just wipe my butt cheeks off with it.
They should have called this the AM/BM.
Oh, man, I got to get out there and deal with my kid and my legacy.
Oh, for Pete's sake. Somebody wrote "Brown Number Nine"...
...on the wall in number two.
Oh, this place is gross. What the hell?
I am never eating hot dogs from this place anymore.
Actually, I wouldn't mind having a hot dog.
Oh, they're out of paper. I better call Terry to bring me some.
No signal? This phone sucks.
What am I supposed to wipe with?
Oh, please tell me I wore old socks. Yes.
Now we're gonna do something else I should have done a long time ago.
Oh, no, where's my dad's jersey?
Someone stole my dad's jersey.
Not just someone.
This security footage should answer all your questions.
Unless your questions are of a sexual nature.
In which case, you should talk to your parents or a priest.
Hey, what are you watching, The Cleveland Show?
Ba-da-ba... Uh-oh.
Cleveland Jr., may I enter?
Yes.
Son, I can't believe I would do something so stupid...
...as to steal this jersey back from you.
- Here, it's yours. - Fine.
- You forgive me for stealing the jersey? - Yeah.
Good. Because you were awful. You know that, right?
I mean, you're my boy, but you are...
...no very good at the baseball.
No siree, no, no, no. Awful.
Bad boy. Bad baseball player.
Stinky pie, sucka-wacka.
But as for me stealing the jersey...
...that's water under the bridge.
- Okay. - All right then.
You're a bad baseball player.
- Bye. - Bye-bye, Junior.
Bye, Mrs. Donna.
Well, that was pretty cold.
Cleveland, you broke into the school, exploded his locker...
...and stole back your jersey because you were ashamed.
And I apologized. But what about my disappointment?
Even Tim's son Raymond went two for three and he was blazed out of his mind.
When are you going to realize that this isn't about you?
This is about your son and appreciating what he's good at.
Well, listen to Dr. Phylicia Rashad.
I told you never to mention that name in this house.
I'm gonna kill you, Phylicia Rashad.
I'm gonna kill you.
Hey, Mr. Farquhare. I watched the tape you gave me.
As far as I'm concerned...
...you may as well use this to erase that erroneous derivative.
The upper limit should be N cubed, not N squared.
No. Because the...
He's right.
Nerds!
- Stand up. You stand up.
- I am standing up. I know.
- In your face, dwarf-ass. - That's hurtful.
Coach, I did something you always told me not to do.
I took my eye off the ball...
...the ball being my relationship with my son.
And now, as a consequence...
...there's been a rain delay in said relationship.
We've all got problems, Hot Brown.
Last night, I slept in a gas-station bathroom.
It was filthy. My feet were freezing.
Thank God someone left a pair of socks in there.
Hey, you think our livers would be a match?
This is an odd place for the math club to meet.
Pop quiz, Junior.
How do you turn a nine into a zero?
Junior, what are you doing here with Wally?
And what is he doing with my jersey?
Showing Cleveland Jr. A real hot number nine.
That's my jersey. My dad gave it to me.
But then you gave it to me.
No!
Here, Daddy. I'm sorry.
You've got nothing to apologize for.
You didn't disgrace this jersey, son.
I did.
I'm proud to be your father.
- I love you, Dad. - Ahem.
Pride is what men feel.
Love is for the ladies.
Fine. Go on.
Go back to your dad, you chubby loser.
Nobody calls my fat son a chubby loser.
Oh, no. No. Oh, not again.
Ha, ha. Wee-wee.
I didn't enjoy watching Wally humiliate himself that night.
Actually, I did.
I enjoyed it immensely. And as for Wally?
Well, he relearned the same lesson he learned 25 years ago.
Mess with me, and you're gonna pee on your thigh and pocket contents.
My name is Cleveland Brown.