Tin Cup

Oh, man.

Hey, you derelicts, you know what time it is?

Yeah. What's up?

It is bug betting time, all right?

First bug to get fried wins $2.00.

I got this green one right there.

All right, Earl, you gotta actually let go of the money

in order for it to be a bet.

All right, come to daddy.

All right. Round and round she goes.

Where she stops, nobody...

Number 2!

Aah! Winner, winner, chicken dinner!

any of you shit heels ever get bored?

Huh?

You ever get bored?

I got a riddle.

You got a riddle?

Takes about two ounces of brains to figure it out.

Anybody think they got a brain

with two ounces of brains in it?

There's a rumor Earl does.

Well, for Christ's sakes, boys, come on,

a little self-confidence from the players' gallery, all right?

We ain't talking long division.

How much we got to lose?

You want to liven things up, Earl?

That's a hell of an idea.

So everyone puts in 20 bucks.

Pot goes to whoever solves the riddle.

You're gonna get the riddle, tin cup.

Dewey, I'm the one asking the riddle.

I already know the answer, okay?

I don't... I don't get a guess.

All right.

Although we could say if I get to 500 bounces

on the old wedge here

and no one gets the riddle,

I get the pot.

Now, I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking it's an impossible riddle.

Well, it's not. It's a easy riddle.

And if somehow, by the grace of fluke luck,

I win, and y'all don't agree that it was a easy riddle,

well, then, hell, uh,

I'll refund your money.

I'm in!

- All right! All right! - Money in the bank.

I'll hold the money. Come on. Give it up.

Now, a man's driving down the road with his son,

and he gets in a crash.

Two ambulances come

and take the man and his son to different hospitals.

Okay? Different hospitals.

Son goes into the operating room, all right?

The doctor looks at him, says,

"I can't operate on this boy."

He's my son.”

Now, how is that possible, hmm?

How is that possible?

Clock's ticking, fellas.

The father's still over at the other hospital.

I mean, he didn't sneak back in, right?

This ain't Star Trek, Earl.

Nobody beamed him aboard.

All right. What about if, uh, if the father married the son's daughter?

This is a family riddle, Earl.

You got... you gotta think clean thoughts.

Hey, give us a little hint.

You want a hint, Clint?

Little hint.

All right.

The doctor's a woman.

The doctor's a woman.

See, the doctor's the son's mother.

Feminists posed the riddle

to reveal how deeply our sexual stereotypes run.

L, uh, take it you're a feminist.

Ma'am, I've been called a lot of things before,

- never been saddled with that one. - Ah.

Smell of leather, sting of a whip.

- Ooh! - Mercy.

Well, I'm just a humble golf pro.

Could I help you?

You're Roy mcavoy, the golf pro?

Mm-hmm.

Oh, well, I-I pictured something, uh, different.

I have a 7:00 lesson.

I thought I had a Dr. griswold.

Uh-huh...

That's me.

Okay.

First thing you gotta learn about this game, doc,

is it ain't about hitting some little white ball

in some yonder hole.

It's about inner demons:

Self-doubt, human frailty,

and overcoming all that crap.

Oh, yeah.

So what kind of doctor did you say you were?

I'm a psychologist.

In layman's terms call me

Neo-jungian, postmodern, freudian, holistic, secularist.

Okay.

I mean, inner demons and human frailty,

well, that's my life's work.

I used to practice in El Paso,

but I moved here now.

What is all this stuff?

Oh, I ordered all this from the golf channel.

It's a... it's a waste of money.

Well, no, I'm... look, I'm sure

that there are some excesses and repetitions here,

but I believe in the gathering of knowledge,

and I thought, you know, there must be some truth

to the golf swing illustrated by some of these devices,

and that you would just kind of help me, you know,

sort through it all.

I have dozens of golf videotapes, too.

I'll bet she's got a golf watch.

You got a golf watch?

Yeah. I-I think I got a pretty good one.

Right there.

Well, take it off.

- Take it off? - All of it, right now.

Just... all of it now.

You're a smart woman, for Christ's sakes, right?

Jeez.

Don't you know the work of hustlers when you see it?

Well, no.

I mean,

I can always tell when someone's lying to himself, okay?

But I'm quite susceptible and frequently wrong

when that person lies to me.

I mean, Christ, this stuff cost me over $200.

Well, it's uh, $200 of shit.

Well, that's just great.

Why don't we do this the old-fashioned way?

Just go take a swing.

All right.

Okay.

Come on.

Excuse me.

= oh!

Fuck.

Well, you talk like a golfer.

That's a pretty girl to have such an ugly swing.

= oh! God!

Oh, that hurt.

Shit!

Fuck. Shit.

Those are highly technical golf terms.

You're using them on your very first lesson.

This is promising.

Right.

Okay, wise-ass.

Show me. Just go ahead.

Something like that.

That's impressive.

You know, look, I tend to process things verbally,

so do you think you could break down into words

how you just did that?

You mean, what is the... What is the golf swing, by Roy mcavoy?

Well, I tend to think of the golf swing as a poem.

Oh, he's doing that poetry thing again.

Critical opening phrase of this poem will always be the grip,

which the hands unite to form a single unit

by the simple overlap of the...

Little finger.

Right.

Lowly and slowly...

The club head is led back, pulled into position,

not by the hands, but by the body,

which turns away from the target,

shifting weight to the right side

without shifting balance.

Tempo is everything, perfection unattainable.

As the body coils now to the top of the swing,

there's a slight hesitation,

a little nod to the gods,

uh, a nod to the gods?

Yeah.

To the gods.