The Goldbergs

Who can forget the gruff,

no-nonsense gym teachers of the '80s?

They were true athletic authorities

who demanded respect and ruled our lives with an iron whistle.

None more than William Penn Academy's Coach Mellor.

Well, aren't you a tall glass of Gatorade?

Go get 'em, Ricky!

After a great deal of legal wrangling,

I am excited introduce a new unit...

Full-contact Red Rover.

Oh! Ugh!

Did I hear somebody say "full

But like clockwork, my smother would always save me

from the dangers of physical movement.

I forced Principal Ball to give me an advanced copy of all your units,

and my baby is not doing anything full contact.

It's all very embarrassing, but so worth it.

It sure was, till one fateful day when everything changed.

Today, we will be climbing the celebrated gym rope.

Fear not. This inch and a half of blue cushion

will probably break your fall.

Goldfarb, kick us off.

Sorry, Coach.

My old lady likes to keep all this on safe ground.

She'll be here in three, two, one...

Mama!

Face it, Goldfarb, she's a no-show.

Time to let the rope get to know every part of you.

Thing is, my mom's doing this whole Bevolution to reinvent herself

and kind of dropped the ball on her Schmoopie.

Move!

For the very first time, I was Momless

and had to face the infamous rope on my own.

And like many gym scrubs before me, I sucked real bad.

Coach believes in you, kiddo!

Dig down deep! Failure is not...

And he's coming down!

I'm alive!

Oh, no.

Coach, you okay?

Pain is just weakness leaving the body.

Now, make room for me to acrobatically

leap to my feet like a jungle cat.

Should I call Nurse Steve?

No need! Just a tiny sprain!

It is not a tiny sprain!

I've ruptured my C2 vertebra.

As a result, I can no longer aggressively sneeze

or use my full head to properly whistle.

Man, I feel like this is kinda partially my fault, Coach.

Oh, it is 100% your fault.

And as such, I will unfairly put you on a dodgeball team

with a bunch of weak-armed scrubs

so you get yours.

Game on!

Ah!

Let me just grab a couple ball...

Who did that?

Who laughed at me?

Admit it! I can't turn my head, so I couldn't see.

You will not laugh at Coach!

You will respect your sports leader...

Ah!

* I'm twisted up inside

* But nonetheless I feel the need to say

* I don't know the future

* But the past keeps getting clearer every day *

It was March 21st, 1980-something,

the week my sister hit an important college milestone,

growing to hate her roommate.

And the tipping point...

A box of chewy fruit snacks.

Have you seen my Shark Bites?

I've seen no Shark Bites.

Weird, because, um, when I went to class,

my Shark Bites were here.

And now, my Shark Bites are gone!

Are you, like, suggesting I ate your Shark Bites?

Oh, I'm saying you ate my Shark Bites.

You owe me Shark Bites!

And you owe me half a Taco Bell taco I left out last night!

So, you admit it. Oh, I admit it.

I ate them all. And my tummy is super jacked up,

but it was worth it to even the score.

I will eat everything you own!

Ah!

Stop it! No!

Yep. Living on top of each other finally got to them.

Really?

It's for class, so, suck it.

You know, I'm getting really tired

of how crazy passive-aggressive you are!

Me? You purposely didn't refill the ice tray.

I couldn't because somebody made it all crusty

from the jello shots that she made in it.

I have no memory of that entire night,

so I win this argument.

Did you?

No! My special ice tray!

And things went from bad to worse when Erica came home to a scrunchie on the door.

Back before texting, this message meant your roommate

had romantic company, so go away.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!

Um, hello! Scrunchie on the door.

Just open up. I'm exhausted.

Oh, I'd love to help you,

but I'm entertaining Hector. He plays the flute.

I don't want to know Hector facts.

I want to sleep in my own bed.

I'm sorry, but it's the scrunchie rule.

Go sleep in the common room with the other loveless losers.

Bye!

Wait! The only space in there is next to the leaky microwave!

Then go home!

Bye!

With no bed to sleep in, that's just what my sister did.

Such bull crap.

I used to be best friends with my roommate,

and now we fight over who left the cap off the toothpaste.

It was you, huh? It was obviously me,

but that's not the point. Okay, I think I may have a solution.

When I went to visit my cousin at UCLA,

I found out that there's one thing that overrules

the scrunchie. An out-of-town guest.

I mean, you can't make a visitor sleep in the common room.

That's just rude. And it's perfect.

All I need is an out-of-town guest, and I win!

How 'bout a foxy one who no longer needs his asthma nebulizer

because he went through a year-long course of shots for dust mites?

That was supposed to sound cooler than it did.

Gah!

These CDs are impossible to open!

Yes, Barry! Come back to college with me this weekend!

Him? He's the awful answer to my problems.

You know how you always annoy me on purpose and drive me crazy?

It is my greatest joy in life. Which reminds me...

Hyah!

Yes! You are the worst!

Can you channel that hateful, abrasive energy

at my roommate and drive her away?

Child's play, but my skills don't come cheap.

See to it.

Sure, I'll get crackin' on this while you pack.

Sucker!

What about me? I can be mildly irritating sometimes.

Oh, well, if you want to help,

you can open this because it's impossible.

Okay, fine, but I'm... I'm not gonna clean up the soda that Barry spilled.

I'm just gonna blot it, okay?

Just in case anyone slips and hurts themselves.

I'm off to Dave Kim's. He just got Super Mario Bros. 3.

So, chances are, I'm coming home Sunday night

with some wicked Nintendo thumb.

Enjoy your Italian game, Schmoopaloo.

Ooh, Mom, could you do me a solid

and whip up some of our lemon loaf?

Check your backpack.

No! A fresh one for Coach Mellor.

He got hurt pretty bad,

and it's sorta my fault 'cause I fell off a rope,

which is sorta your fault, 'cause you didn't bail me out.

That's on me. I was just trying to improve my life

by reading a book on boundaries.

Did you know I love you too much?

Does this goodbye feel too long to you guys, too?

Well, enjoy the house all to yourselves.

You know, he's right.

All my squishy-tushes are gone for the weekend.

Listen to that. What do you hear?

Just your loud breathing.

You know, it weirdly sounds both wet and dry.

Exactly.

No kids to ask me for money or touch the thermostat.

No one to feed or clothe or tickle their backs to sleep...

Which is a good thing. It's why you got the whole Bevformation.

Bevolution. And you're right.

I... I need to accept the fact that soon I will have no one to take care of.

Look at me. I promise.

When our kids leave, I will never, ever wash a dish.

That's my gift to you.

With little prospects at home,

my mom decided the best prospect for mothering was elsewhere.

Oh, hi. Welcome to Mellor Manor.

I heard you weren't feeling great,

so I whipped up a healing lemon loaf.

Bring it in. Bring it in.

I can't wait to mash that up and drink it through a straw.

Where are my manners?

Do you want some coffee and cheese?

Oh, my God, Rick, are you okay?

I'm tip-top!

Aside from the fact that I gotta sleep standing up

and I can't take this shirt off.

Isn't there someone who can take care of you?

I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

Aside from washing, eating, and opening damn cheese!

You are coming home with me.

I could never intrude like that.

Oh, intrude away.

My house is empty and lifeless this weekend. It's no bother.