Crane Boys Keep Fallin' On Their Heads
Interior of Key Arena. Marty, Frasier and Niles appear climbing down the aisle looking for their seats. Frasier and Niles are dressed down wearing windbreakers instead of their usual business suit. Marty takes a glance at the tickets in his hand and the numbers on the seats.
MARTY: (taking a seat) All right! These are great seats. Thanks, Fras.
FRASIER: Don't mention it, Dad.
NILES: (frowning) The floor is really sticky here. It reminds me of that run-down movie theater that showed double features to pack after pack of wild children on weekends in our old neighborhood.
MARTY: Ah! Memories, huh?
NILES: You can say that again. No matter how hard I try to suppress the horrific images of those swarming children with sticky hands and feet around me, they always come back when I am least expecting.
Marty sits down in the middle, sandwiched between Frasier and Niles. Niles wipes down his chair with his handkerchief before sitting down. When he is seated, he takes out a pack of wet wipes, cleans the bottoms of his shoes and puts the soiled wipe in a plastic bag that he uses as a temporary trash bag.
MARTY: Boy, it's gonna be a good one tonight. Our boys are playing against the I-5 rival.
FRASIER: I-5 stretches from B.C. to B.C.—Vancouver B.C. to Baja California. Could you be more specific?
MARTY: (shaking his head) Sheesh! Do I have to explain everything? The Sonics are playing against the Portland Trail Blazers.
NILES: As you mentioned I-5, I assume the Trail Blazers are from Portland, Oregon, not Portland, Maine.
FRASIER: Well, isn't that obvious, Niles?
MARTY: (muttering to himself) Says Mr. Pot…
Two men walk up the aisle by Niles, with their backs to the camera.
NILES: Frasier!
FRASIER: Yes, Niles?
NILES: Did you see the faces of the men who just passed by us?
FRASIER: No. What about them?
NILES: I hope there's nothing wrong with those men. They painted their faces in green, yellow and white!
MARTY: So? They're the Sonics' team colors—green, gold and white. Lots of fans do that.
NILES: Really?
MARTY: Sure.
NILES: What I mean is, the men had green, yellow and white on their faces, not gold.
MARTY: Yellow, gold—what's the difference?
NILES: (getting riled up) I beg your pardon?
FRASIER: Save your breath, Niles. You're talking to a man who can't tell eggshell from ivory, chiffon, magnolia or alabaster.
A group of men and women wearing Blazers jerseys come down the aisle and take seats near the Cranes'. In their row and ones right in front and behind, there are more people wearing Blazers shirts and colors.
NILES: (looking around the surrounding rows of seats) Dad, a lot of people here seem to be Trail Blazers fans.
MARTY: Yeah, so? You see a lot of Blazers fans even on a road game. The team was the best in the west last season after all.
Marty sees a puzzled look on his sons' faces.
MARTY: (as if to speak to small children) The Blazers won the last Western Conference Championship.
Frasier notices something or someone several rows ahead of his.
FRASIER: Niles! Look! The first row!
NILES: (gasps) Is it Bill Gates?
FRASIER: Yes, and his buddy, Paul Allen.
MARTY: I bet they have a season ticket—they sure can afford it.
FRASIER: I'm sure they can, but I'm afraid their company may be in a financial strait. Perhaps I should speak with my investment advisor.
MARTY: What do you mean?
FRASIER: Look where they're seated. They're right by the basketball court. Why did they have to get such cheap seats?
MARTY: What are you talking about? They got courtside seats—the best in the house.
NILES: Really?
MARTY: Sure.
NILES: I mean, isn't it kind of dangerous to sit so close to the basketball court? You might get hit by an errant ball during a game.
MARTY: Oh, not only that but sometimes a player crashes into the courtside seats trying to make a save. And if you sit by the court, you can hear the players talking and cussing and smell their sweat too.
NILES: (incredulously) And you pay the top price for that?
MARTY: (sighing) Yeah, dream on…
The scene changes to a sweeping view of Key Arena, which is packed with a very enthusiastic crowd. The game has started, and the spectators are cheering. The Sonics fans chant, "DEFENSE! DEFENSE!" on the top of their lungs as they watch the game.
MARTY: (to the players on court) C'mon, guys! Let's show 'em some D!
The crowd erupts in cheers.
FRASIER: (shocked) (pointing toward the basketball court) Dad, did you see that?
MARTY: Sure did! Now, we're talkin'!
FRASIER: But, Dad, that player ripped the ball right out of the opponent's hands!
MARTY: So? It's called 'steal.' (to a Sonic) Come on, Gary!
NILES: (outraged) What happened to sportsmanship? I cannot endorse a sport that not only condones but also encourages larcenous acts during a game!
The crowd groans, but the Blazers fans around the Cranes perk up.
NILES: He missed! Justice prevails!
MARTY: (balefully) Whose side are you on? Why can't you root for your home team like a normal guy?
FRASIER: We're not exactly like 'normal guys,' as you put it.
NILES: (pondering what Frasier just said) Doesn't that make us 'abnormal'?
MARTY: (mumbling under breath) Oh, how I wonder…
We hear a whistle, which signals a time-out.
MARTY: So, what do you think of this game so far?
FRASIER: (jokingly) I didn't know basketball is a contact sport.
MARTY: (cracking up) It sure gets physical, doesn't it?
NILES: I'll say.
MARTY: (pointing toward the basketball court) All right! Looks like Nate McMillan's up.
FRASIER: Is he a good player?
MARTY: Sure. He's not flashy like some others, but he's an all-around player. I like him. Payton scores more points, but he's got a big mouth. McMillan doesn't do a lot of trash talking.
NILES: A stoic player—I like that.
MARTY: At this point, I don't care if he's stoic or volatile so long as he can put a stop on Clyde the Glide.
We hear a whistle again, which indicates the resumption of the game. The spectators resume their cheers.
NILES: Clyde the Glide, The Glove… Why is that the sports fans are compelled to give athletes quirky nicknames?
MARTY: Not all the athletes get nicknames—only a few that made it to the top. (solemnly) Nicknames are the sign of their greatness. (to the players on the court) C'mon, guys! Let's take care of business!
Time lapse. Marty looks glum. The Blazers fans around him are energized.
MARTY: Man, Drexler's killing us.
FRASIER: (matter-of-factly) Yes, and that player who made all those long shots.
MARTY: Terry Porter. Yeah, he's in the zone. Of all nights, he picks tonight to drain all the three-pointers.
Marty checks the game clock to see how much time remains.
MARTY: Oh, it's almost halftime. Might as well hit the concession stand to beat the crowd. (to his sons) You want anything? Nachos, hotdogs, beer, soda? (grinning) Did I mention 'beer'?
NILES: You obviously have no idea what's in hotdogs—if you did, you would not touch them with a ten-foot pole.
MARTY: I don't care what in my hotdog as long as it makes my belly happy. How about you, Fras?
FRASIER: I don't suppose they have a large selection of imported French wine or Oregon Pinot Noir…
MARTY: (rising from his seat) (grumbling) Why can't you two just say, "no" to a simple question? Stay put and don't get into any trouble till I come back.
Marty walks up the aisle.
NILES: Too bad that Daphne didn't want to come with us tonight.
FRASIER: Can you blame her? Since the last outing with us, she has hardly left home.
NILES: It's so unfair that we couldn't enjoy the whole production of Le Nozze. But because you made a deal with Dad, we're stuck in this place with people with painted faces, colored wigs, giant foam hands, God knows what else, who are cheering over-paid athletes, who sweat profusely and cuss like a drunken sailor.
Frasier moves to Marty's seat to be closer to Niles.
FRASIER: Well, the game is almost halfway over. You know, Niles, while we're here, we should use the time more constructively. Now that we're in Dad's element, it's easier to talk to him—maybe we should use this opportunity for male bonding.
NILES: We're in Dad's element all right—thousands of people screaming at athletes while consuming a large quantity of junk food. It's like Dad in your living room watching TV, ten thousand-fold.
As Niles sits back and throws his head back with resignation, we hear a whistle again.
NILES: (sitting up with renewed enthusiasm) (hopefully) Is it over?
FRASIER: No another foul. Looks like a Blazer will shoot free throws.
NILES: This game is unbelievable! The last time I checked the game clock, there was only five minutes left, but that was over ten minutes ago.
FRASIER: True, but I must admit, these are incredible players with astounding athleticism. It's amazing how high they can leap and how fast they run up and down the court while dribbling.
NILES: Et tu, Frasier?
Niles cradles his head in his hands. Another whistle.
FRASIER: Niles.
NILES: What?
FRASIER: The first half of the game's over. It's halftime.
NILES: (pumping a fist in the air) Yes! Not a minute too soon!
A couple of Blazers fans, who are seated at the end of the row Frasier and Niles are in, stand up and take a few step toward the end of the row. They look down at the entrance of the tunnel that leads to the locker room, then turn around excitedly to talk to other Blazers fans.
BLAZER FAN: They're coming! The Blazers are going back to the locker room!
The Blazers fans around Frasier and Niles rush to the end of the rows to greet their favorite players. Frasier and Niles get swept up in the mob. The fans are pressing their bodies against the guardrail hoping to shake hands or high-five the Blazers. Struggling to break free from the maddening crowd, Niles jumps up on the armrest of the nearest seat.
FRASIER: (alarmed) Careful, Niles!
Niles loses his footing, goes over the rail and starts falling head first onto the Blazers who are heading for the locker room. Frasier grabs Niles' ankles trying to prevent his fall in vain. Instead, he too falls. Niles lands on a Blazer wearing a number 22 jersey, Frasier, on another player in a number 30 jersey. As the security guards pull the Crane brothers up, the image of harried Frasier and Niles freezes and turns black and white. When the camera pulls back, we see that the image is the photograph on the front page of a local newspaper. The headline reads: Crazed fans bring down top Blazers players, Sonics win.
Next morning. Frasier's condo. The living room is empty. Frasier appears from the hallway wearing a robe, looks around to make sure there is no one else around. He walks to the front door, opens it quietly and picks up a copy of newspaper. He winces when he sees his picture on the front page. He hears some noise and hurriedly hides the newspaper inside his robe. Marty enters the scene dressed in pajamas and a robe, carrying a coffee mug in his hand.
FRASIER: (trying to sound naturally) Morning, Dad.
MARTY: (with tussled hair and bleary-eyed) Mornin'.
Marty walks to the kitchen.
FRASIER: Say, Dad. The morning paper's not here yet. I wonder what's taking them so long to deliver the paper.
Marty comes out of the kitchen with a steaming cup of coffee.
MARTY: Funny, it was right at our door when I checked it earlier.
Getting caught in a lie, Frasier cradles his forehead in his hand, and, by doing so, he drops the newspaper, which was tucked under his arm inside the robe.
MARTY: (picking up the paper) This may not be the best picture of you, but the paper calls you a B-ball fan at least.
FRASIER: All right, Dad. I'd like to offer you a proposal…
MARTY: (rapidly) You'll never drag me to the opera house again, and I'll never take you to another ballgame ever again so long as we shall live?
FRASIER: (extending his arm) Deal!
Frasier and Marty shake on the deal. After the handshake, Frasier sits down at the dining table with the newspaper, and Marty starts to walk back to his room.
MARTY: (without breaking his stride or looking back) Oh, Fras.
FRASIER: Yes, Dad?
MARTY: Channel 5 called when you were in the shower.
Marty walks out of the camera range. Exasperated, Frasier comically throws his upper body onto the dining table.
Epilogue
Niles is in a Spanish soldier's uniform from the late 1800s and seated at a small table in what appears to be an outdoor scene onstage. Daphne appears as a gypsy dressed in a revealing peasant dress. She dances around him seductively as she sings, but he remains stoic and pays little attention to her ostentatious flirtation. Daphne finishes singing and tosses a bunch of wild roses to Niles.
The scene changes abruptly to Niles' residence. Niles is holding a record sleeve of Carmen to his chest in one hand, a single rose in the other while listening to a vintage recording of this opera by Bizet on an antique record player. He inhales the aromatic scent of the rose and sighs longingly.