Cliff: Well, time's running out there, Sammy. What are you going to tell Diane when she wants to hear the results of your thinking fest?
Sam: Boy, I don't know. I'm thinking about it a million times and I keep coming up with nothing. I don't need a week. I mean, what was I known for when I was playing ball?
Carla: Giving up tape measure home runs.
Cliff: Chasing anything in a skirt.
Norm: Drinking yourself senseless.
Sam: Coming through in the clutch.
All: Oh, yeah.
Sam: No, no, no. I need the pressure. Slugger at the plate. Bases loaded. Thousands of fans chanting, "Mayday, Mayday, Mayday". You'll see. You'll see. Tomorrow will come and I'll be there.
Cliff: Tomorrow's today. It's past midnight.
Sam: Oh, come on, you don't think she's gonna come marching in now. Do you? I mean, nobody's that crazy.
Diane: [enters] Evening, everyone. I'm back.
All: Mayday, mayday, mayday.