THE LAST BOY SCOUT - Daily Script

THE LAST BOY SCOUT

written by

Shane Black

Bang bang bang Down you go It's just a job I do

Genesis Just a Job to Do

You wanna be a detective? Here's what you do: Take a trusted friend, and imagine the worst thing, the most despicable thing, the thing it would never even cross their minds to do. Then assume they've already done it twice.

Joseph R. Hallenbeck Private Investigator

When you consider that a career in pro football means maybe ten years, after which you got no legs left, and during which you're a painkiller drug addict, a million a year sounds about right. So when people bitch at me about the money I made, I have a pat response: Go fuck yourself.

James Alexander Dix Former quarterback, L.A. Stallions

THE LAST BOY SCOUT

FADE IN:

INT. DARK BEDROOM

The only light, that of a flickering TV screen.

A big MAN lies, shirtless, on the bed. Watching a sports program. We hear:

SPORTS FIGURE (V.O.) (on TV) Eliminating the draft? Worst thing ever happened to pro football. Already you got Eric Dickerson, no team's good enough for him... You got Dion Sanders, this guy, Bosworth, bunch of peacocks. Nagurski, I saw him play for 25 bucks a game. And he woulda played for free, you get me? He loved the game. Nowadays? Forget about it.

The TELEPHONE SHRILLS in the stillness. The Man On the Bed answers it. Speaks haltingly.

Hello...?

MAN ON BED

MALE (V.O.) Hello, Billy. Do you know who this is?

Silence.

MALE (V.O.) Kid from Ohio is looking real good, Billie...

The Man's hand unclenches. A container of pills spills over the blanket. He stammers:

MAN ON BED I'm... I'm gonna... try real hard...

MALE (V.O.) No, Billy. What you're gonna do ... is rush for 150 yards against Chicago.

MAN ON BED That's... too much. I can't...

(CONTINUED)

2. CONTINUED:

MALE (V.O.) You can. And you will. This is a business, Billy. You don't make one fifty, you're history, the kid steps in. No more job... and no more pills, Billy.

MAN ON BED Please... Just give me time...

MALE (V.O.) One hundred and fifty yards. Goodbye. The PHONE CLICKS off. NFL running back Billy Cole stares straight ahead, mouth working spastically.

CUT TO:

AERIAL SHOT - SNOWSTORM OVER Chicago, Illinois, as the CAMERA SPIRALS DOWN TOWARD a teeming football stadium. We hear crowd noise and marching band music, deafeningly loud, as we SUPERIMPOSE the legend:

SOLDIER FIELD, CHICAGO NOVEMBER 14

INT. ANNOUNCER'S BOOTH The BROADCAST TEAM huddles inside the quilted jackets, squinting through the snow. Speaking into headset mikes.

ANNOUNCER Good afternoon and welcome to Soldier Field, Chicago, site of today's confrontation between the L.A. Stallions and the Chicago Bears. This is Vern Lindquist with Terry Bradshaw, and, yes, my friends, it is that cold.

INT. LOCKER ROOM - SAME TIME Billy Cole sits, alone, in front of his locker. Eyes glazed. Face bathed in sweat. He takes a bottle of pills from the locker. Pops three. Hisses a stream of air through his teeth as we --

CUT TO:

3. EXT. FOOTBALL FIELD - DAY (FOURTH QUARTER) A deafening CRUNCH as a defensive back hammers a wide receiver, nearly decapitates him. The ball rolls free. The back recovers it.

ANNOUNCER (V.O.) ... Big Ray Walton puts a devastating hit on Bricmont, so Chicago turns over the ball with a minute and forty seconds left.

EXT. SIDELINES - SAME TIME The injured player goes by on a stretcher, moaning. Cheerleaders jump and frolic.

BILLY COLE gets up off the bench. The rest of the offensive unit sprints onto the field. Cole walks. Straight ahead, eyes front. Like a robot. His HEARTBEAT THUDS on the soundtrack.

COLOR MAN (V.O.) And so L.A. has a chance to ice the game, no pun intended... And you gotta be thinking, give the ball to Billy Cole. He has had an outstanding day, racking up 138 yards against a tough defense.

DOWN ON FIELD The huddle breaks. The L.A. team trudges through the snow to the line of scrimmage. Cole adopts a three-point stance. Everything happens in hyper-real SLOW MOTION: The snow falls. The receivers breeze past, in motion to begin their patterns. Moving like gazelles. Cole's fingers paw the cold earth. Gouging it. He is like a spring. Coiled and ready. The ball is snapped. Turf and snow. Erupting. A firecracker series of POPS as linemen collide. Legs churning.

(CONTINUED)

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