Synchro: mpm
That's the guy you want with the ball.
Come on! God, you want to be a loser all your life?
- Were you talking to me? - No, the Redskins.
You're performing at or near expectations.
I'm back from the chemistry olympiad!
I got a platinum metal.
That's terrific honey.
You're mommy's little brain-haver.
So, what's that? You got first place?
No, platinum is seventy-eighth, the same as its place in the periodic table.
So, you lost.
You can't really expect a non-Korean to place higher than cobalt.
- But check it out! - Fumble! Loser!
That guy just cost us the game!
I assume he'll be killing himself tonight.
- ! Look at... - I know what you're thinking.
You prefer he be dragged through the streets, mob justice.
That's a legitimate view. It's not mine, but I respect it.
- Platinum is used as a catalyst... - I'm sorry, Steve, you lost me.
I guess that's the second thing you lost today.
No and my respect, that's three.
Wait, Steve.
Your keys, you also lost your keys.
That's four. Four times a loser.
Five.
So I says, "half the petty officers in the seventh fleet
"could've fathered that kid. Why am I the one
"that's got to pay to fix his cleft palate?"
But the whole thing was messy
so I jumped ship in Okinawa, caught a flight home, got back last night.
Anyhoo what's got you so glum?
It's Dad.
He always ignores me, 'cause I never win anything.
How to get your dad's attention. That is a tough one.
A lot of kids are starting fires these days. Maybe that would work.
That's not the kind of attention I mean.
Maybe you should just give up on your dad.
Face it, he's a douche. And I would know.
I used to run human resources for Summer's Eve.
Great company, they would throw a family day picnic at six flags every year.
Were those good times. Boy, did we look forward to those.
Wait a second, that's it!
I can sign up for the footballs team!
Dad loves sports! I bet he'd love to watch me play.
Steve, look at those kids. They're athletes.
When was the last time you ran anywhere?
I mean with your actual legs, not by pressing "X".
That doesn't matter, look! It says right here, see?
"All players on each team must play in every game."
Everybody plays!
I'm going to play football.
Dad will have to pay attention to that!
Okay, football's your plan. I get it, but this is here.
Low-hanging fruit if you need it.
Oh, father?
I was wondering if you might sign something for me.
It's a permission slip for junior football!
"Junior football"!
Why, you've never done anything that required medical permission!
You're damn right I won't sue if you're paralyzed.
Steve, there's something I'd like to give you.
It's my old, protective cup.
I whittled it myself out of a solid bough of oak.
Now, I want you to wear it.
Dad, are we having a father/son moment?
We were. You ruined it by mentioning it.
Splinter.
I like the way you're putting him through his groin drills.
"A sturdy groin is the linchpin of victory."
Vince Lombardi said that.
And he would have loved your mauve sweat suit.
You know, we need more coaches. Can I sign you up, Mr...?
Smith, Stan Smith, and you sure can!
- I'll coach my boy's team! - You called me your boy!
Quit ruining moments!
Mom, please, enough.
If I have one more piece of vomit pie I'm going to pumpkin.
One more. Taste it.
And be harsh.
Mom, your pies are fine.
"Fine" won't wow the judges at the county fair.
And "fine" certainly won't beat Miss Carlotta Monterey's pie.
Is there a Carlotta Monterey pie here?
Nope, still Mom's.
You know Carlotta Monterey doesn't even show up to pick up her prizes?
She submits a self-addressed,
blue ribbon-sized envelope along with her pie.
That cocky pie-skank.
This whole business of baking contests for women is so 1950s.
Why don't you give back your right to vote while your at it, mom?
I don't vote.
It's just so confusing.
I go into the booth, pull the curtain and count to ten.
Then I come out, yell "democracy" and run to my car.
Heslop! Dunnigan! Smith!
Nice work, Heslop! Good grab, Dunnigan.
That's my dad.
Just getting the hang of it, coach!
Be careful, Steve. There's a man throwing things!
Chubs!
All right, huddle up, Wolverines!
Boys and girl... You're a girl, right?
This country.
All right, listen up... we've got our first game next week.
- What are we going to do? - Win!
That's right, now, take a lap! Steve, hold up son.
Did you see me out there, Dad? I was really making some great tries.
Son, do you want the Wolverines to win next week?
I sure do!
Me, too. That's why i'm cutting you.
- What? - Yeah, and your fat-ass friend.
I'm keeping the girl.
I don't want to hurt her feelings, she's a girl.
You're cutting me?
Here's the thing. I've been scouting you your entire life.
And I mean this factually, not judgmentally, you're a loser.
You lose at things.
But, hey, here's a chance for you to help us win.
By not playing! High-five!
Too slow!
You got to make yourself laugh, you know?
- Wha... whazzit? - Roger?
Oh, God, can't a guy sleep one off?
Late checkout! Late checkout!
Roger, Dad just cut me from...
Is that... Am I making that smell?
I am. That smell is me.
I'm making it, and I'm disgusting.
He cut me from the team!
Wait, what is this?
He said I was a loser, and he cut me.
I'm leaking! Terrific, I'm leaking something.
This is going to be a great, sploogey month with me leaking,
and splooge coming out of me, fantastic.
Not this bit! I'm Jack Tripper over here!
Okay, all right, I'm up. Now, what is this?
What is your thing with the crying?
Dad kicked me off the football team!
All he cares about is winning.
Can't tell you how many times that man has made me cry.
He never supports me!
He's a bastard, is what he is.
You know what? Forget it. I'm over it.
If he needs to win so badly, let him.
- I don't care. - Steve, come here.
This.
This is what he did to you.
And you're going to let him get away with it?
- What else is there to do? - I'll tell you.
Your dad made you cry, Steve.
So we're going to make him cry.
But, Roger, I've never seen my dad cry. I don't think he can.
When we get through with him, he'll be bawling like a baby.
Sobbing like a poor African woman
who just lost all of her kids to a scatter bomb.
Powerful enough for you? It's from my play.
Haven't found the right producer.
Point is, we're going to make your dad cry!
Here's a recipe for black Muslim bean pie.
I could make it "Allah mode."
That means, "God be with ice cream".
Mom, no self-respecting modern woman should care this much about pies.
Steve, here he comes!
Take that, sir!
Behold, a grown man weeping like a...
That?! That was your plan?
- Are you crying? - Yes, I'm crying.
He hit me with chair!
Okay, different plan. We need to hit your dad where it hurts.
And what does he love more than you?
- Winning? - That's right.
So what if we formed our own football team,
and won the championship ourselves?
I'm not a very good football player.
You know why? You never had a very good coach.
You're looking at the man who got robbed of a producer credit
on the longest yard and was briefly married to Bill Belichik's niece.
Lets just say: not very open sexually.
You really think we can make Dad lose?
We're going to fill the bathtub
in my dollhouse with your father's tears.
Sorry, Malibu Melinda.
Look at her, pooping with the door open.
Disgusting. She has let herself go.
She hasn't washed her feet in months, wears nothing but sweatpants.
I can't take it anymore.
See that tiny suitcase by the bed? That's mine. I packed it months ago,
but I can't bring myself to walk out that door.
Because I haven't had a chance to go to the store yet, honey!
Stan, did you hear that?
I'm going to take your gun.
My fairy-pie mother!
You got my letters!
Mom! It's not what you think! I'm...
- I'm cooking meth! - Oh, really?
Then where's your muriatic acid?
You're making pies!
Allow me to introduce myself.
Carlotta Monterey.
You?
- You're my pie rival? - Rival?
You've given yourself a generous compliment, madam.
Listen up, Monterey! It's pie time you got beaten!
I've been saving that for the fair!
But I'll think of another one crust in time!
Didn't see that coming, did you?
Wonder whose car that was.
- All right, who do we got? - You know snot, Barry and Toshi.
And these are my equally important friends,
Cheese, Hubert and Li Fung.
- Plus the other kids who got cut. - I am the amazing Rufus.
Collapsible flowers on wires. Slips right out of your sleeve.
You want to be amazing? Do it in a t-shirt.
Okay, listen up, people!
I'm going to turn you clowns into a football team.
Knock it off! I'm calling both of you "karate chop" and that's the end of it.
Now, in six weeks, we're going play coach Smith and his Wolverines.
Yeah, and we're going to get killed. Great plan, Roger.
Fine, so we don't have brawn.
What really wins football games is brains.
I'm assuming you guys are the smart kind of geeks?
- 50-50. - 50 plus 50 equals a hundred.
And that's what we're going to do: a hundred shots of beer.
I got ten more to go.
Then we're going to battle our way to the championship, boys.
And make the other team's coach cry!
Hike!
All right, our last opponent.
The nexus six-series Replicants.
They picked that name, I was not involved.
Doesn't matter. We're undefeated. Your team had one successful snap.
Those shorts make your package look small and your ass look big.
That makes two. Two successful snaps.
All right, fellas, huddle up.
We're not going to win the championship.
- What?! - Well, yeah.
We haven't won a single game. What'd you think was going to happen?
Look, we stink.
I would say it was my fault, but it was you and your terrible bodies.
I guess we're not going to make my dad cry after all.
Wrong!
We may not be winners, but we can be spoilers.
History is filled with losers who never won anything themselves,
but who ruined the success of others: Ralph Nader, Judas,
that kid who pulled scissors on me at the rock-paper-scissors tournament.
Stabbed me in the parking lot. Ruined my concentration for the whole tourney.
Anyway, if we beat Smith's team, it won't save our season.
But it will spoil theirs!
Now, what do you say? Let's go out there and spoil!
Sorry... We're not spoiling anything today, and I got nothing else.
That man cares more about winning than he does about me.
And I want him to taste defeat.
Roger, I've got an idea.
- Let's go under the bleachers. - a make-out session won't help.
But I guess that's what coaches do.
Roger, are you still leaking that splooge?
Oh, God! With all the fluid coming out of my armpits,
I feel like Bette Davis on her wedding night.
You don't know enough about Bette.
Take some of that stuff, and rub it on me.
What the...?
Steve, that's brilliant!
Four! Eight!
Pi! Googleplex!
Repeating remainder three! Hike!
Roger, I need one last round of slippery sauce.
I think I'm dried up. Speaking of my wife...
- Steve, finish that one for me. - There's no time!
Come on, one more play and my dad will know what it feels like to lose.
Enough of this! Take out that kid with glasses!
- You mean your son? - Yeah. Now, sweep the leg.
- You got a problem with that? - No, sensei.
No mercy.
I have been working on this one thing.
But we need a magician.
Is there a magician on this team?
Hike!
- There he goes! - Get him!
Kill him!
This kid, doesn't have the ball!
Steve, we did it!
Wha...? What happened?
Look, there goes your dad!
Is he crying? Can you tell?
Hey, Steve, before the game, how many ears did you have?
This is going to be great, Roger!
I'm finally going to see my dad cry.
Now, make sure we get most of his tears in the tub.
Oh, my god! Dad!
Now, hang on, Steve. He's still breathing.
Stan, are you trying to kill yourself or thrill yourself?
Is he all right?
He's going to be fine.
I can't help feeling this is all my fault.
Can we see him?
Franny, let me.
I out-coached you.
- Dad, why did you do this? - Because I lost.
Don't you think that's a bit of an overreaction?
So you lost. Nobody cares.
I care! I know I lost,
and I couldn't bear to carry that shame around for the rest of my life.
Don't want to pile on,
but you could've done a better job with this whole suicide thing.
I mean, you own guns.
See, stan, I told you the fair would cheer you up.
You're right! I'm going to enjoy myself.
I hear there's a tent with a bunch of frogs that croak Hotel California.
Oh, my God! That's judge Judy!
No, it's not.
You think judge Judy is coming to the Langley county fair?
That's why I was surprised.
- Well, I'm going to go enter my pie. - Like I did last night, huh?
It's good to hear you making jokes about nailing mom, dad.
I'm just enjoying my last day on earth.
- What?! - I'm still gonna kill myself.
I'm a loser. There's no other answer.
What? No, dad!
You can't do that. So you lost. Who cares?
I lose all the time and I'm not suicidal.
I just cry and get over it.
That's what life is, Dad: losing and crying.
You lose one time and you go straight to hanging yourself.
Wait, that's it! Come with me!
Go ahead, Dad.
Good-bye, son.
One piece of advice before I go: don't marry an actress.
Wait, dad! What do you feel in this moment?
Shame, soul-shattering emptiness, embarrassment.
I'm gonna turn the whole thing off.
No! Instead, go with those feelings.
You know, let them out!
- Of my neck? - No, out of your eyes.
Look, all this time I wanted to make you cry to hurt you,
but it's actually going to help you!
- It will? - Yes!
Now, come on, you can do it.
Think about something that makes you really sad.
Think about...
A bear cub abandoned because someone killed its mother.
You know what's sad about that? No one killed the cub.
Cubs make good eatin'. Sliced thin on a ritz.
Excellent choice, Francine.
Peach Bavarian cream is mayor Woodside's favorite pie.
Is he judging this year?
I had no idea, councilwoman Santos.
Well, I think he'll have a new favorite this year.
- Is that...? - Carlotta Monterey, nice to meet you.
I thought I'd pick up my prize personally this year.
You're Carlotta...
- Wait, I already knew that. - Ladies.
I'm pleased to announce
the winner of this year's county fair pie contest.
The blue ribbon goes to...
Emmilou Sugarbean!
Who?
Oh, my stars!
I've been secretly competing with both of you for years.
What put me over the top this time?
I put fruit and sugar in my pie,
instead of soggy napkins and gerbil meat.
I also made a sizable contribution to mayor Woodside's mouth.
How about the end of Terms of endearment?
When Shirley MacLaine is standing over Debra Winger's hospital bed
as she's dying from cancer.
And as her only child passes away before her very eyes,
she sits there, dumbstruck.
She thought that death would somehow feel like a relief,
but instead she just sobs...
Overwhelmed by a pain
that only a mother who outlives her child can feel.
- That was a funny movie! - Okay, close your eyes.
I want you to picture a boy.
- Is he white? - Yes, he's white.
He's also not popular.
And he gets shot down by every girl that he asks out.
But he keeps his chin up through all of it.
And then he takes a chance.
He takes a chance by joining the football team
'cause the only thing he really wants to win is his father's affection.
And then, his father cuts him from the team.
- Yeah, Steve, I really gotta... - Now, picture that white boy
- is you. - What?!
My daddy cut me from the team?
But, Daddy, I... I tried my hardest.
Why won't you love me?
Why, Daddy? Why?
Oh, God, this feels so good.
That's right, Dad, let it out.
What a wonderful alternative to suicide!
Told ya.
Thank you, son.
Thank you.
Look at this. We're having a father-son moment.
Quit ruining it!