In an interview, Corey admits that he would have much rather been devoting his time to planning for the "big day." I sincerely thought he meant his overdue lobotomy. Vince says that Corey should have never been allowed near the softball field because a player has to get on the ball and not act like a little girl. He then does an impression of Corey being scared shitless to catch a pop fly. You would think Corey would be a decent softball player. Lord knows he's had enough soft balls slapping him on the chin to the point where he should be a pro by now. Back to the game: the Playmates are thrashing the men. Manny Mo waddles up to the batter box, and a collective sympathetic groan emits from the stands. Shades of that tender-hearted moment from the 1996 Special Olympics when the young physically challenged David McCoy was granted 337 strikes before he was officially ruled out come to mind while one watches Manny swinging wildly in the batter box. Finally, out of sheer frustration, Manny walks to the dugout, proving that even dwarves can only take so much pressure before they crack. Hammer says that one of the pitches was an illegal pitch, and makes Manny go back to the batter box. Manny finally connects with one of the pitches, knocking it about three feet. It's not like he bunted the ball: he was really trying to knock one over the fence. Manny begins running, and it takes him about thirty minutes to get to first base. This is so ironic, because it once took Michael Jackson thirty minutes to get to first base with Manny. Vince is watching the game and feels prompted to make the logical assessment: "We're fucked." Yep. You can slap that on a t-shirt and sell it, Vinnie. Jerri grins and tells the cameraman that the guys on the men's team are a bunch of wussies. I guess that's a given when Corey's involved.
It's Der Feldman's turn to bat. He takes one last drag off his cigarette, stubs it out with his toe, and steps up to the plate. Not that I have to document this, but for the sake of posterity: strike one, strike two, strike three, Corey's out. Corey says that the balls whizzing past him at 80 mph made him look like a girl. Personally, I think his general lack of anything remotely resembling a penis may also have something to do with it. He says that by the fourth inning, he was exhausted and hurting, which is exactly how most men describe sex with Tori Spelling. Hammer pulls Corey at this point. They didn't have anyone to take his place, but having nobody in the backfield is actually an improvement over having Corey out there. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Corey's got the athletic ability of Stephen Hawking. Once Corey's taken out of the game, the game starts magically picking up, and soon the teams are even at 16-16. The umpire realizes that now's the best time to call a time limit on the game and does so, allowing everyone but Corey the chance to walk away a winner. Manny gets the chance to hug a bevy of Playmates and says that what playing a softball game against a bunch of Playboy Playmates is all about: good sportsmanship and burying your head into a mountain of fake boobs. Meanwhile, Corey's out in the field by himself, running through a gamut of facial expressions that he's kicking himself for not using earlier while the game was still going on, and which would have made him look like he actually had an ounce of ability. Hey, there's always next time. Oh, wait: after next week, it's back to Obscurityville for you, huh, Feldman?