Mr. Crosby: You wanted to see me, Earl?
Principal Ball: Ah, there's my favorite shop teacher.
Mr. Crosby: We should cut the chitchat. I have 63 birdhouses to grade.
Principal Ball: See, that is just the kind of statement that leads me to believe you're the perfect man to help me out-
Mr. Crosby: With?
Principal Ball: I want to get rid of the baseball team.
Mr. Crosby: Sure.
Principal Ball: See, Coach Mellor's departure has left the team in shambles.
Mr. Crosby: Sure.
Principal Ball: They're so bad that even the school paper has stopped trying to spin the losses. If our team keeps playing like hot garbage, I could convince the board to drop the program and spend that money fixing our budgeting issues.
Mr. Crosby: Sure.
Principal Ball: Which is why you're gonna be our new baseball coach.
Mr. Crosby: What? I don't know anything about the game. All I played growing up were timber sports.
Principal Ball: Timber sports?
Mr. Glascott: Log rolling, speed felling, speed whittling, speed sanding.
Principal Ball: Yeah, you help me lose and that absurd radial arm saw you have been requesting is all yours.
Mr. Crosby: Batter up.
Principal Ball: I have taken the liberty of tracking down some new recruits for the team. They all happen to be students who have been dodging their athletic requirements, if you catch my drift. Good luck.
Adult Adam: [v.o.] And with that, Mr. Crosby set out to assemble the worst high-school team of all time.