yeah, so?
who the hell areyou,the barbecue police? tell youwhat,i've got the note pad, so i'llaskthe questions: do youwanta baked potato with that?
'cause i changed my name, that's why.
you like it?
it ain't fine. it's fine.
downtown!
shit. it's been a pleasure serving you. clarence tosses his note pad on the table and his mother tosses him his duffle bag.
stay outta my stuff!
panties are silk. briefs are cotton. i'm out of here.
yo, jackie, is the washing machine broken? angle on: a few workers are taking out the washing machine.
forget that. i need my own locker.  for the panty dropper. clarence reveals his 'panty dropper' a brown full-length leather coat.
firepower? who'd you hire?
not everyone sits around dreaming of playing in the nba, you know.
no one calls me clarence.
don't think i don't know what you're doing. you're doing that thing where you pretend to mean what you say, but you don't.
yeah. how'd you like that sarcasm smacked off your face?
i got this, alright? monix squares off with a smile that says 'hit me.' clarence takes off his leather full length and folds it nicely.
how'd you like a knuckle sandwich?
i do motherfucker. i'm gonna pound you so hard, you're-- monix rears his fist back, about to release a strong popeye
wait!
there's no way we can make it to fourth place. it's mathematically impossible.
eighty-two percent? isn't that a lot?
my mom cooked your ass a whole damn meal, why you gotta go asking what's in it?
if it's good, then it's good. why do you gotta know what's in it? what's in hot dish? hot dish is in hot dish, asshole. bee bee and scootsie look over the seat, facing them.
isn't it a little embarrassing wearing that thing everyday?
you call yourself a celtic? you sat through every single playoff game. you didn't see action once. and now you walk around wearing the ice like you're bill russel. well you ain't.
whatever. at least i never sat on the bench and then called myself a champion. you didn't do shit for that celtic team. if i was dave cowens, i'd yank that ring right off your neck. that was a pretty heated exchange. monix looks like he's got something to say, but he doesn't. clarence has the last word.
he doesn't wear it on his finger because he knows he didn't earn it. he didn't even play.
i ain't guarding my guy anymore.
he's too'damn sweaty, man. look at me.
right on! i'm open baby! try a behind-the-back! monix delivers a nice two handed bounce pass, but clarence isn't ready for anything fundamentally sound -- the ball hits him in the nuts.
ah, shit.
i brought us some ice. monix is startled. clarence, his roommate for the night, enters.
i don't know, it's free. clarence takes some ice, pops it in his mouth and starts crunching.
want some?
i don't watch people play basketball. they watch me. with that, clarence pulls out a joint and lights it.
it's a fucking egg-mcmuffin. monix opens the window, clearing the pot smoke out of his face. jackie exits the bathroom, having just taken a shower. he's wearing a very small robe. this is now the fourth player who's sleeping in this tiny room.
what do you mean?
take that back.
yeah, in the yard.
it's sweet grass.
what's wrong, my mom's weed ain't good enough for you?
that's it, i ain't sleeping in the same bed as this motherfucker.
check it out. i sewed it on the bus.
jumping johnny johnson. the asshole, petrelli, wanders over near the tropics side of the court.
kiss my ass, petrelli.
jumping johnny johnson.
why do we have to put the court together?
monix should be here helping us.
what's wrong?
shit. winning is going to be hard. but getting 2,000 people to watch is going to be impossible.
what kind of huge idea?
monix. reveal: clarence.
johnny for short. two coffees.
listen, i know you and i haven't always been the best of buddies.
so maybe we won't. but like you said, i don't want to look back on this with any regrets. i know what you think of me. but i'm willing to put our differences aside. i'm telling you right now, i'll do whatever it takes to win.
i would consider passing, yes.
i'm not just talking about you playing point guard.  i'm talking about you teaching us.  monix could not be less interested.
monix, you know more about basketball than any man who's ever set foot in flint. monix drinks, not into it.
all i'm saying is, instead of getting so pissed off at us all the time, why not just show us what the hell you're talking about? coach us a little. i mean, we can't get any worse.
i know you. you've got all that basketball shit stored up in your head. i know you're dying to pass it down to somebody. why not us?
jackie's got his hands full, trying to sell tickets. he's obsessed.
so that's the way it's going to be? monix doesn't answer, he just drinks. clarence gets the hint and walks out.
are we going to practice or what?
jackie, i asked monix to coach us.
jackie. don't be like that.
don't make us elect monix, man. alright, show of hands. who wants monix to step in as player-coach? everyone feels bad, but they all raise their hands.
don't take it so hard, jackie. you're a great owner. we all know that.
yeah. everyone thinks so.
we mean it. for real. monix is just more of an x's and o's kind of guy, that's all. jackie is emotional. it's a bittersweet moment. he takes off his whistle, then walks over and hands monix his whistle.
would everyone let the man talk please? clarence is serious. this shuts everyone up.
i don't get it.
what.
we've been running this play for a long time, man.
i think he's talking about vomit.
he's worried about the corn dogs.
if we score a hundred points, everyone gets a free corn dog. there are signs everywhere.
what is it?
damn. vj day? that's cold.
why don't you write a song yourself? then you wouldn't feel like a fake any more.
hold up. are these girls wearing underwear?
nice to meet you.
well tough shit. this team did make it this far. rules are rules.
thought i might find you here. i got traded.
i guess the san antonio spurs are picking up the players they want, before we're eligible for the expansion draft.
they won't let me finish out with the tropics. so, we'll be playing against each other in the last game. that's pretty weird.
listen i'm sorry about--
i mean, i just want to say that, this year, you really--
we worked so hard.
so, that's just it then?
thanks petrelli.
i can't. i've got back spasms. the coach stares him down, then picks another player.
jackie!
i'm going to my team.
my name ain't coffee. it's clarence. with that, clarence walks across the floor. the crowd erupts.
is he okay?
i'm with you guys.
no.
okay jackie, so what's the play?
amen.
he shoots them granny style.
wait, there really is a trophy?
we did it.
thanks for bringing me on board, coach.
do we really have to live in new jersey?