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This excerpt is from the opening scene of Brighton Beach Memoirs, a play by Neil Simon. It takes place in
the Brighton Beach section of Brooklyn, New York, in 1937. Blanche and her daughters live with her sister
Kate's family. Most of the baseball players Eugene names are among the most famous of the time. Read the
excerpt and answer the questions that follow.
[Internet editor's note: The horizontal dark lines under lines 32 and 122 represent page breaks in the printed document.]
Brighton Beach Memoirs
by Neil Simon
ACT ONE
It's around six-thirty and the late-September sun
is sinking fast. KATE JEROME, about forty years old,
is setting the table. Her sister, BLANCHE MORTON,
thirty-eight, is working at a sewing machine. LAURIE
MORTON, aged thirteen, is lying on the sofa reading
a book.
Outside on the grass stands EUGENE JEROME,
almost but not quite fifteen. He is wearing knickers,*
a shirt and tie, a faded and torn sweater, Keds
sneakers and a blue baseball cap. He has a beaten
and worn baseball glove on his left hand, and in
his right hand he holds a softball that is so old and
battered that it is ready to fall apart.
On an imaginary pitcher's mound, facing left, he
looks back over his shoulder to an imaginary runner
on second, then back over to the "batter." Then he
winds up and pitches, hitting an offstage wall.
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EUGENE. One out, a man on second, bottom of
the seventh, two balls, no strikes . . . Ruffing
checks the runner on second, gets the sign
from Dickey, Ruffing stretches, Ruffing |
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pitches—(He throws the ball.) Caught
the inside corner, steerike one! Atta baby!
No hitter up there. (He retrieves the ball.) |
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One out, a man on second, bottom of the
seventh, two balls, one strike . . . Ruffing |
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checks the runner on second, gets the sign
from Dickey, Ruffing stretches, Ruffing
pitches—(He throws the ball.) Low and
outside, ball three. Come on, Red! Make
him a hitter! No batter up there. In there all |
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the time, Red.
BLANCHE. (Stops sewing.) Kate, please. My
head is splitting.
KATE. I told that boy a hundred and nine times.
(She yells out.) Eugene! Stop banging the |
| 20 |
wall!
EUGENE. (Calls out.) In a minute, Ma! This is
for the World Series! (Back to his game.)
One out, a man on second, bottom of the
seventh, three balls, one strike . . . Ruffing |
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stretches, Ruffing pitches—(He throws the
ball.) Oh, no! High and outside, JoJo Moore
walks! First and second and Mel Ott lopes
up to the plate . . .
BLANCHE. (Stops again.) Can't he do that |
| 30 |
someplace else?
KATE. I'll break his arm, that's where he'll do it.
(She calls out.) Eugene, I'm not going to |
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*knickers — pants that end just below the knee
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tell you again. Do you hear me?
EUGENE. It's the last batter, Mom. Mel Ott is |
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up. It's a crucial moment in World Series
history.
KATE. Your Aunt Blanche has a splitting
headache.
BLANCHE. I don't want him to stop playing. It's |
| 40 |
just the banging.
LAURIE. (Looks up from her book.) He always
does it when I'm studying. I have a big test
in history tomorrow.
EUGENE. One pitch, Mom? I think I can get him |
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to pop up. I have my stuff today.
KATE. Your father will give you plenty of stuff
when he comes home! You hear?
EUGENE. All right! All right!
KATE. I want you inside now! Put out the water |
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glasses.
BLANCHE. I can do that.
KATE. Why? Is his arm broken? (She yells out
again.) And I don't want any back talk, you
hear? . . . (She goes back to the kitchen.) |
| 55 |
EUGENE. (Slams the ball into his glove angrily.
Then he cups his hand, making a megaphone
out of it and announces to the grandstands.)
"Attention, ladeees and gentlemen! Today's
game will be delayed because of my Aunt |
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Blanche's headache . . ."
KATE. Blanche, that's enough sewing today.
That's all I need is for you to go blind.
BLANCHE. I just have this one edge to finish . . .
Laurie, darling, help your Aunt Kate with |
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the dishes.
LAURIE. Two more pages, all right, Ma? I have
to finish the Macedonian Wars.
KATE. Always studying, that one. She's gonna
have some head on her shoulders. (She calls |
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out from the kitchen.) Eugene!!
EUGENE. I'm coming.
KATE. And wash your hands.
EUGENE. They're clean. I'm wearing a glove.
(He throws the ball into his glove again . . . |
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then he looks out front and addresses the
audience.) I hate my name! Eugene Morris
Jerome . . . It is the second worst name ever |
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| | given to a male child. The first worst is Haskell
Fleischmann . . . How am I ever going to play |
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for the Yankees with a name like Eugene
Morris Jerome? You have to be a Joe . . . or a
Tony . . . or Frankie . . . If only I was born
Italian . . . All the best Yankees are Italian . . .
My mother makes spaghetti with ketchup, |
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what chance do I have? (He slams the ball
into his glove again.)
LAURIE. I'm almost through, Ma.
BLANCHE. All right, darling. Don't get up too
quickly. |
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KATE. (To LAURIE) You have better color today,
sweetheart. Did you get a little sun this
morning?
LAURIE. I walked down to the beach.
BLANCHE. Very slowly, I hope? |
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LAURIE. Yes, Ma.
BLANCHE. That's good.
EUGENE. (Turns to the audience again.) She gets
all this special treatment because the doctors
say she has kind of a flutter in her heart . . . |
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I got hit with a baseball right in the back
of the skull, I saw two of everything for a
week and I still had to carry a block of ice
home every afternoon . . . Girls are treated
like queens. Maybe that's what I should have |
| 105 |
been born—an Italian girl. . . .
KATE. (Picks up a sweat sock from the floor.)
EUGENE!!
EUGENE. What??
KATE. How many times have I told you not to |
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leave your things around the house?
EUGENE. A hundred and nine.
KATE. What?
EUGENE. You said yesterday, "I told you a
hundred and nine times not to leave your |
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things around the house."
BLANCHE. Don't be fresh to your mother,
Gene!
EUGENE. (To the audience) Was I fresh? I swear
to God, that's what she said to me yesterday . . . |
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One day I'm going to put all this in a book
or a play. I'm going to be a writer like Ring
Lardner or somebody—that's if things don't |
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work out first with the Yankees, or the Cubs,
or the Red Sox, or maybe possibly the Tigers |
| 125 |
. . . If I get down to the St. Louis Browns,
then I'll definitely be a writer.
LAURIE. Mom, can I have a glass of lemonade?
BLANCHE. It'll spoil your dinner, darling.
KATE. A small glass, it couldn't hurt her. |
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BLANCHE. All right. In a minute, angel.
KATE. I'll get it. I'm in the kitchen anyway.
EUGENE. (To the audience) Can you believe
that? She'd better have a bad heart or I'm
going to kill her one day . . . (He gets up |
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to walk into the house, then stops on the
porch steps and turns to the audience
again . . . confidentially.) Listen, I hope
you don't repeat this to anybody . . .
What I'm telling you are my secret |
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memoirs. It's called, "The Unbelievable,
Fantastic and Completely Private Thoughts
of I, Eugene Morris Jerome, in this, the
fifteenth year of his life, in the year nineteen
hundred and thirty-seven, in the community |
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of Brighton Beach, Borough of Brooklyn,
Kings County, City of New York, Empire
State of the American Nation—" |
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| | KATE. (Comes out of the kitchen with a glass
of lemonade and one roller skate.) A roller |
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skate? On my kitchen floor? Do you want
me dead, is that what you want?
EUGENE. (Rushes into the house.) I didn't leave
it there.
KATE. No? Then who? Laurie? Aunt Blanche? |
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Did you ever see them on skates? (She holds
out the skate.) Take this upstairs . . . Come
here!
EUGENE. (Approaches, holding the back of
his head.) Don't hit my skull, I have a |
| 160 | concussion.
KATE. (Handing the glass to LAURIE) What
would you tell your father if he came home
and I was dead on the kitchen floor?
EUGENE. I'd say, "Don't go in the kitchen, Pa!" |
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KATE. (Swings at him, he ducks and she misses.)
Get upstairs! And don't come down with
dirty hands.
EUGENE. (Goes up the stairs. He turns to the
audience.) You see why I want to write all |
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this down? In case I grow up all twisted and
warped, the world will know why. |
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Excerpt from Brighton Beach Memoirs by Neil Simon. Copyright © 1984 by Neil Simon. Published by the Penguin Group.
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