Tin Cup

You derelicts know what time it is?

What?

It is bug-betting time! All right?!

First bug to get fried wins $2. I got the green one.

$2 on the June bug.

You must actually let go of the money in order for it to be a bet.

Round and round she goes, where she stops... Number 2!

Any of you shitheads ever get bored?

You ever get bored?

'Cause I got a riddle.

Takes about 2 ounces of brains to figure it out.

Anybody think they got a brain with 2 ounces of brain?

There's a rumor Earl does.

For chrissakes, boys, come on, a little self-confidence from the gallery.

This ain't long division.

- How much we got to lose? - Want to liven things up?

That's a hell of an idea!

Everyone puts in 20 bucks. Pot goes to whoever solves the riddle.

You'll get the riddle.

I'm the one asking the riddle.

I already know the answer. I don't get a guess.

Although we could say if I get to 500 bounces on the wedge...

...and no one gets the riddle, I get the pot.

Now, I know you're thinking it's an impossible riddle.

It's not. It's easy.

And if somehow, by the grace of fluke luck...

...I win and y'all don't agree that it was an easy riddle, then...

...I'll refund your money.

I'm in!

Money in the bank.

I'll hold it.

Give it.

A man's driving down the road with his son.

He gets in a crash.

Two ambulances come...

...and they take the man and his son to different hospitals.

Different hospitals.

Son goes into the operating room, all right?

Doctor looks at him, says:

"I can't operate on this boy.

He's my son. "

Now, how is that possible?

How is that possible?

Clock's ticking.

Father's at the other hospital?

He didn't sneak over?

No one beamed him aboard.

All right, what if the father married the son's daughter?

This is a family riddle.

Think clean thoughts.

Give us a hint.

You want a hint?

The doctor's a woman.

The doctor's a woman.

The doctor's the son's mother.

Feminists pose the riddle to reveal sexual stereotypes.

I take it you're a feminist.

I've been called many things, but never been saddled with that.

You might try being saddled.

Smell of leather, a whip's sting.

I'm just a humble golf pro. Could I help you?

You're Roy McAvoy?

I pictured something different.

I have a 7:00 lesson.

I thought I had a Dr. Griswold.

That's me.

First thing you must learn is this game ain't about hitting...

...a ball in a hole.

It's about inner demons, self-doubt, human frailty...

...and overcoming that crap.

What kind of doctor did you say you were?

Psychologist.

I'm a neo-Jungian, post-modern Freudian, holistic secularist.

Okay.

Inner demons and human frailty is my life's work.

I used to practice in El Paso, but I moved here now.

What is all this stuff?

I got it from the Golf Channel.

Well, it's a waste of money.

I'm sure there are some excesses and repetitions here,

but I believe in gathering knowledge.

There must be some truth to the golf swing illustrated here...

I thought you would kind of help me sort through it.

I have dozens of golf videotapes.

I bet she has a golf watch.

Got a golf watch?

I think I got a good one.

Right there.

Take it off.

Off?

All of it, right now. All of it.

You're a smart woman, for chrissakes.

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.

But I'm susceptible and frequently wrong when a person lies to me.

This stuff cost me over $200.

It's $200 of shit.

Well, that's just great.

Let's do this the old-fashioned way. Just swing.

All right.

Come up.

Excuse me.

Fuck.

You talk like a golfer.

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

Oh, God!

Oh, that hurt.

Shit!

"Fuck. " "Shit. "

These are technical golf terms.

You're using them on your first lesson.

This is promising.

Great.

Wise-ass. Show me. Just go ahead.

Something like that.

That's impressive.

I tend to process things verbally...

...so can you break down into words how you did that?

"What Is The Golf Swing," by Roy McAvoy?

I think of the golf swing as a poem.

He's doing that poetry thing again.

The opening phrase of this poem will always be the grip.

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 the body, which turns away from the target,

...shifting weight to the right side without shifting balance.

Tempo is all, perfection unattainable, as at the top of the swing...

...there's a hesitation, a little nod to the gods.

A nod to the gods?

To the gods that he is fallible.

That perfection is unattainable.

Weight shifts to the left pulled by the powers in the earth...

...it's alive, this swing, and a sculpture...

...and down through contact...

...striking the ball crisply...

...with character.

A tuning fork goes off in your heart, your balls...

...such a pure feeling is the well-struck golf shot.

Then the follow-through to finish...

...always on line.

The reverse-C of the Golden Bear...

...the steelworkers' power and the brawn of Carl Sandburg's...

...Arnold Palmer!

He's doing the "Arnold Palmer" thing.

And the unfinished symphony of...

...Roy McAvoy.

What's unfinished?

I have a short follow-through. It has an unfinished look.

Why?

Some say it's the easiest way to play in the winds of west Texas...

...some say it's because I never finished anything in my life.

You can decide. But the point is...

...every finishing position is unique.

That's what the golf swing's about.

It's about gaining control of your life and...

...letting go at the same time.

Jeez Louise.

There's only one other acceptable theory about how to hit the ball.

Oh, boy, well, I'm afraid to ask.

What's the other theory?

Grip it and rip it.

Well, you know...

...while I do appreciate your poetic sensibility, Mr. McAvoy...

Call me Roy, Molly.

Call me Dr. Griswold, Roy. I think I'm more of the grip it and rip it school.

Then let's tee it up.

All right, waggle.

Waggle.

No, look.

He's got her waggling now.

Waggle the...

...club head, okay?

It's a relaxing ritual we do.

Just waggle it.

Waggle it and let the big dog eat.

What big dog?

- This is metal. - All woods are.

The driver's known as the big dog.

I'm just saying let him loose, let it rip...

...let the big dog eat.

You know, this is without a doubt the stupidest, silliest...

...most idiotic, grotesquely masquerading game ever invented.

Yes, that's why I love it.

If you hit one good shot...

...and that tuning fork rings in your loins...

...and you can't wait...

...to get back.

Try it again.

The big dog just ate something.

Did that tuning fork ring in your loins?

Well, I wouldn't go that far.

I always say quit on a good shot.

Okay.

And...

...if you wouldn't mind...