The Dink

Some people are born winners.

Tom Brady,

LeBron James,

Joey Chestnut

and also me.

My name is Dusty Boyd,

but most people on planet Earth know me as The Hammer.

My dad gave me that nickname before he even told me my real name.

Yeah, that's the way to go, Hammer. Yeah.

And he trained me like a tennis racehorse.

Cardio, strength training, taping tennis rackets to my hands.

My dad wasn't like other dads.

He didn't teach me how to read. He taught me how to hit.

We're on our way, Hammer!

And it worked. I broke every single USTA junior record.

Wins, aces, shutouts. You name it, they were mine.

And soon the world took notice.

No, Dave. I don't hit hard.

I hit the hardest.

- -

And before I even graduated high school,

- I lived out me and my dad's dream. - Dusty, over here!

- I turned pro. - Right here! Dusty, over here!

And that, my friends, is my incredible true story.

So, does anybody have any questions?

Yeah, are we ever gonna hit a fucking ball?

This lesson sucks ass.

I meant does anybody have any questions about the story that I was just telling?

And that was very clear, wasn't it?

Very clear story. And I've actually got a question, King.

This is what I was looking for. PJ, go ahead.

Why does it still give me chills every damn time I hear it?

- Gives me chills too. - Seriously, I think, like,

- you're one of the best-- - If you're so good,

how come you work for your dad teaching nine-year-olds?

I think these punks need to hear the Andy Roddick story.

- Oh, you do, do you? - Oh, no, no, no, no.

- Please don't tell another story. - Vero Beach Classic.

- Oh, my God! -

The year was 2000. Me versus Andy Roddick.

He was technically the bigger name, but everybody was there to see me.

- - Love you, Hammer!

We'd played a couple times as amateurs.

And every time I saw him, I used to cream his ass.

No other way to say it.

Pretty sure there is.

But this was the first time meeting as professionals.

- And I was crushing him. - Yes.

Way to go, Hammer.

That's my son.

That's where evil Mr. Andy decided to play dirty.

Yeah. He tried to ice me by taking a bathroom break.

So I ran down there to confront him.

Slipped on a wet spot.

- And shattered my wrist. - Ow!

Roddick!

And in doing so, I shattered my very promising career.

- What? - Obviously, Andy Frauddick,

he'd slicked down the floor with some type of substance.

And that means that all of Roddick's professional achievements,

like winning the US Open and marrying supermodel Brooklyn Decker,

those are all actually Dusty's.

That's actually a really interesting idea.

- I'd never thought of that. I guess-- - I'm sorry.

How does that make his accomplishments yours again?

Yeah, I'm struggling to connect those dots as well.

Well, maybe you need to go to dot-connecting lessons.

Nice burn.

Anyway, I'm done talking to you guys. I've gotten very bored.

I don't think you're gonna learn the lessons.

So you guys wanna hit some tennis balls or what?

- Yes. Finally. Oh, my God! Please. - Yes. Please.

One second.

Something I need to do.

- Hey! - Oh, sorry about that.

- Little help? - Yeah. My pleasure.

Here's your pickleball.

- In the garbage! -

This is a tennis club, lady.

- Asshole! - I heard that.

Good. I wanted you to. That's why I said it so loudly.

Okay, pickleball lady. Let's do this.

Peej. I have a game.

You like games. You play pickleball, right?

- See this quarter? - Yes.

Place it anywhere you want on the court and I got one shot to hit it.

If I hit it, you're banned for life.

And if I miss, I will waive your membership fees for a year.

Oh. I'm banned?

Well, it doesn't matter because I'm not a member here.

I'm just taking a lesson.

So let's do this. I'll sweeten the deal.

If I miss this shot,

I'll toss in these.

Dusty, no. Not your 1999 Buick LeSabre?

Yes. I will toss in my 1999 Buick LeSabre with under 200,000 miles on it.

Now I'm torn. Hmm.

Don't really wanna talk to you anymore, but I do wanna see if you can hit it.

What to do? Okay.

Let's play.

Anywhere?

Anywhere you want.

I choose there.

Ooh, tricky. In the corner.

Yes!

Get out! Get out! Get out!

- - Whoo!

- -

- Jesus. - Whoo!

Get your pickleball ass out of here.

Before you go.

- Smile, you're banned. -

- - Whatever.

Man.

Yeah!

Can you read what it says on my nameplate, Dusty?

Of course I can, Dad.

It says, "Chuck Boyd. President of Tennis Operations."

Holy shit.

- Sounds like a pretty important guy, huh? - Yeah.

Not that type who'd wanna see his son dressing like a slob, showing up late,

- banning people from the club. - Right.

You know, the truth is it's not just you.

This whole club's heading down a bad path and I'm about to right the ship.

I'm hosting a dinner tonight for all the top brass and you as well.

Top brass and I'll be there.

Damn right, you will. And you will not embarrass me.

You will show up on time, you won't wear some stupid headband,

and you'll bring a plus-one to show these people

I did not raise some kind of hopeless loser.

Yes, sir.

You free tonight, my man?

Let me… Let me think about that.

Not him!

Bring that girl you've been seeing. You know, the pretty one.

Uh, unfortunately, Marisa and I… We broke up.

Well, go over and apologize and get her back.

- It's complicated. - Go.

Okay. I feel like we spent this whole time talking about me.

How are you doing?

I'm gonna get going. I'm gonna go do what you asked me to do.

Come on. You got it.

Well, well, well.

Look who came crawling back like I knew he would.

- Nope. Changed my mind. Not doing this. - Wait!

- No, I can't do this, Marisa. - Yes, you can.

- No, I actually can't. - Come back.

What do you want?

- I need a favor. - Okay.

I need you to pretend we're back together for one night

and come to a dinner at my dad's house.

Oh, my God!

You boys love your little games, don't you?

One minute, I'm the worst person ever. You never wanna see me again.

I believe you even called me "unfaithful."

I called you that, Marisa, because you cheated on me.

Dusty?

- What? - It was one time.

It was eight times.

Yeah, but it was with one guy.

It was with nine guys!

Oh, my God.

What, are you Rain Man? You remember everything.

Look, Marisa, will you please just do me this favor?

- Please. - Okay, fine.

Thank you.

- - Yeah, it's so true.

Oh, have you read anything by that author Malcolm Gladwell?

His piece about The Beatles being good because they practiced.

Well, it knocked me on my goddamn ass.

- - No, I-I think about it constantly.

- Really? - Yeah. I'm serious.

- Dad, look who I brought. - Marisa.

I hope we're not late, Chuck.

We were, uh, trying to make you a grandson.

Well, actually, you're not late at all for a change, dirty dog.

I'm a dirty dog.

- I just love the way sex feels… - Yeah.

…with my girlfriend.

Oh.

Very good.

Very good.

- Please, have a seat, everyone. - Please, have a seat.

- Thank you for having us, sir. - Yeah.

Tennis.

Elegance.

Aesthetic perfection.

But tennis isn't just a sport.

She's a living, breathing animal,

and she needs our protection.

An epidemic is sweeping across our once great nation.

And its name is…

- …pickleball. - Ugh.

- The novel coronavirus of sports. - Yeah.

We gave these clowns Mountain Crest's worst court

as a sort of hand sanitizer/mask type of deal.

And now these pickleballers want more courts.

I can't hold off the expansion vote much longer.

And if we lose, the spread may never stop.

Our club is one of the final strongholds.