Necessary Roughness Page #4

A squeaker, 35 - 1 2.

Damn!

Sh*t!

The ArmadiIIos are 0 - 8,|with two games Ieft in the season.

Wyatt, you dumb cowboy a**hole!

lf you opened a hole for once,|you'd know who to block!

- Blame me.|- Right!

You couldn't catch a cold in Alaska!

Why don't you bang a kangaroo?!

Enough! Cool it!

Cut it out! Cut it out!

You got energy, considering we lost!

- You don't have to play both ways!|- No sh*t!

We're sick of reading about you.|''Blake, Arm of the Armadillos''!

lt's not his fault.|The whole team sucks.

- Hey, b*tch!|- Hey, hey!

What's wrong with y'all?|Forget about football.

- We need to get crazy. Amen.|- Amen!

- We need to get wild!|- Yeah!

- We need to 'partay'!|- Yeah!

Party! Party! Party!

- Blake, come to Billy Bob's tonight.|- l've been.

lt wouldn't hurt for the guys|to see you hanging out tonight.

Buy them a round, would you?

Yee-haw! WeIcome to BiIIy Bob's!

The bar with its own|indoor buII-riding arena!

Hey, Wyatt, nice riding!|You must be hungry.

l ain't eating nothing|l might've rode in here!

Charlie, Manu...

- How you doing?|- How you doing?

Andre, look who's here. Flat-top.

Guys, see who's here?

Texas State, they're the pussies|that ain't won a game yet!

Well, if it isn't the By God|Number One Texas Colts.

- Wow!|- You say something, Sugar?

- You OK?|- Yeah...Paul.

He's all talk.

Party's over, guys.

We're on probation, you know that.|And you know that, too.

What are you thinking about?

lf l wanted a big brother,|l wouldn't have killed mine!

You don't want to mess with us.|We're nobodies.

You guys are undefeated, 8 - 0.

We'll just take our party|somewhere else.

OK...OK.

Tell you what l'm going to do...

...l'll buy you a beer, and we can|forget this incident. lt's on me.

Now it's on you.

Guess you wanted a light beer.

Maybe you better buy me a keg.|Or put a spigot in that fat Buddha!

Easy.

We were getting along so good,|and now you insult my centre.

My centre!

This is my throwing hand here.

Sh*t!

He bought you a beer!

- You all right?|- Great until a chair hit me.

Sheriff?|Yeah, it's Billy Bob's again.

You finally threw something|that connected!

Next time we invite you out,|keep your white butt at home!

l thought you said|you wanted to 'partay'.

What took you so long, Dean?

l'm Dean Elias,|l heard about the brawl on my beeper.

So...where's the brawl?

- Brawl? There ain't no brawl.|- ''There isn't any brawl.''

- There ain't no brawl?|- You hard of hearing?

Buy the sheriff a coffee,|l'll take care of this, huh?

That's a good idea.

Don't get yourself in 'no' trouble,|you hear?

Let's go.

'Any' trouble.

Hurts when they poke you|in the chest like that, doesn't it?

l don't think|you get the idea, Elias.

lf our boys get caught in a brawl,|that means the Colts get caught.

You don't get elected sheriff|by embarrassing the pride of Texas.

For a quarter, you can jump in.

Another game, another time,|Coach Gennero.

Blake!

Let's talk.

Put this away for me.

l'll be seeing you on the field.

l'm really looking forward to it.|See you around, Flat-top.

Come on, boys, let's get out of here.

We're just blowing off steam.

You can't afford to act like normal|students. You can't blow off steam.

Dean Elias is looking|for any excuse to bury us.

Coach, l'm sorry.

You'll never win unless|you control your team.

- l'm just trying to...|- Just answer one thing for me.

Who threw the first punch?

All right.

Get that thing looked at.

- Hi.|- What are you doing here?

l'm kind of bleeding in your doorway.

- Can l come in?|- Yeah, come in.

Didn't l tell you to wear a helmet?

l went because l thought|that's what he wanted.

l'm trying to read this man's mind.|Should l protect him? Drink with him?

Thanks.

l just can't seem to win.

Tell you what, l'm too old for this.|He's treating me like a kid!

You've got to talk to the man.

He's a coach, l'm a football player.|He can't talk to me like l was human.

Have you tried?

l tried with you.

- lt's hard to get...|- ...respect as a female teacher.

l know.

You ought to try getting respect|as a football player some time!

OK, let's clear the board|and start again. Square one.

- Truth?|- Truth.

OK.

Paul Blake. Freshman quarterback.

Suzanne Carter.|Cheerleader, Hollokan High.

- What?|- 4 7-6, State Finals, 1 975.

Oh, sh*t!

You know, we thought|we had a real chance!

You threw for five touchdowns,|420 yards in the air.

You decimated us.|You decimated my boyfriend.

You have no idea|what you did to me!

Wait a second.|ls this all about a grudge?

A grudge?

No! l cut your picture out|of the sports page.

l made my friends|drive past your farm.

l used to call and hang up.|l was nuts about you.

Can we take a walk?

We play the Jayhawks Saturday|and we have no kicker.

- We'll find a kicker.|- Where?

We'll find a kicker, l guarantee it!

- Wally, this way.|- No, let's get some air.

Walk off that pasta|you're always shovelling down.

- Did you look at that play?|- lt'll never work.

Sorry. l forgot, you're a genius!|That's why you have a bigger whistle.

Now he's got whistle envy!

- Hell of a kick, huh?|- Yeah, 40-50 yards, they can...

No! Wrong gender!

There's nothing to say|a woman can't play football!

Wally!

Hey, Rig! ls that what you wanted?

Look at that!|A bloody sheila on the team!

- We'll be a laughing stock.|- What do you think we are now?

l'm ready. Let's try one.

Hut!

Manu! Snap me the ball!

Snap the ball, dammit!

Hello, Manu! Hike me the ball!

Hut!

Relax, big guy,|you've already got the job.

Hut!

- Nice kick.|- lt was a little off.

Take it back ten yards!

- You kidding me?|- That's the pressure of TV.

Like with wrestling,|women take over the sport!

Take it back ten yards!

Wow!

- She can kick!|- Yeah!

Man, that was 40 yards.|40 yards!

Can you believe that?

l don't even drive that far!

- She's got some foot!|- Keeps getting better on the way up!

Hey!

Lucy...this is Manu.

Nice to meet you, Manu.

l've got a feeling about tonight's|game. Maybe we've got a shot.

An amazing game!

The ArmadiIIos have put|on a tremendous defence,

not aIIowing a touchdown|in three quarters.

AIso, we have word|from University HospitaI

that the homecoming queen|runner-up is in satisfactory condition,

foIIowing that freak Iightning|strike at haIf time, so...

With Iess than a minute to pIay,|we traiI the Jayhawks 3 - 0.

But in a typhoon,|it's anybody's game.

All right, guys! Come on!

Hut! Hut!

Yes! Yes! Yes!

Edison is down at the 37,|though he hydropIaned to the 19.

First down, 'DiIIos. But time|is running out, down to 20 seconds.

Shut up!

All right! First down!

Quarterback throw on two. Ready?

- All right?|- Follow me.

- Come on!|- Here we go.

Set! Hut! Hut!

BIake's going aII the way!

- Come on, Paul!|- Hit the big guy!

He breaks a tackIe, he sIips,|the baII's Ioose...

It's a fumbIe!|They're aII piIing on.

Who's got it?

Fumble! Blue ball!

Sit down, you jerk!

Tough break!|BIake couId've scored.

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