written by john norville and ron shelton
don't you shitheels ever get bored?
 'cuz i got a riddle.
takes about two ounces of brains to figure it out. anyone think they got a brain with two ounces of brains in it?
for chrissakes, boys! a little self-confidence from the players' gallery. we ain't talking long division.
you want to liven things up, earl? that's a hell of an idea. say everyone puts in twenty bucks and the pot goes to whoever solves the riddle.
dewey. i'm the one asking the riddle. i already know the answer. i don't getta guess. although.  we could say if i get to five hundred bounces and no one gets the riddle, i get the pot. and i know what you're thinking. it's an impossible riddle. well, it's not. it's an easy riddle. and if somehow by the grace of fluke luck i win, and you all don't agree it was an easy riddle, hell, i'll refund your money.
okay, a man's driving down the road with his son and they get in a crash. two ambulances come and take the man and his son to different hospitals. son goes into the operating room, the doctor looks at him and says, 'i can't operate on this boy. he's my son.' how's that possible? the clock's ticking boys.
it ain't 'star trek,' earl. no one beamed him aboard.
it's a family riddle, earl. think clean thoughts.
ma'am, i've been called a lot of things -- but no one's ever saddled me with that one.
i'm just a humble golf pro.
i thought i had a doctor griswold
the first thing you gotta learn about this game, doc, is it ain't about hitting a little white ball into some yonder hole. it's about inner demons and self-doubt and human frailty and overcoming all that crap. so.  what kinda doctor'd you say you were?
damn.
what're those?
that stuff's a waste of money.
take it off. all of it. now! you're a smart woman, for chrissakes -- don't you know the work of charlatans when you see it?
then it's 200 dollars of shit.
go ahead. take a swing.
well, you talk like a golfer --
'fuck' 'shit' these are highly technical golf terms and you're using them on your first lesson -- this is promising.
something like that.
'what is the golf swing?' -- by roy mcavoy. the golf swing is a poem.
sometimes a love sonnet and sometimes a homerian epic -- it is organic and of a piece, yet it breaks down into elegant stanzas and quatrains. the critical opening phrase of this song is the grip, in which the hands unite to form a single unit by the simple overlap of the smallest finger.  .  held lightly, a conductor's
to the gods, yes.  that he is fallible. as the weight shifts back to the left pulled now by powers inside the earth -- it's alive, this swing, a living sculpture -- and down through contact, always down, into terra firma, 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 -- and then the follow through to finish, always on line -- the reverse 'c' of the golden bear, the steelworker's power and brawn of carl sandburg's arnold palmer, the da vinci of hogan, the unfinished symphony of roy mcavoy.
i have a short follow through -- my swing can look unfinished.
some say it's because that's the best way to play through the winds of west texas.  and some say it's because i never finish anything. you can decide. the point is every finishing position is unique as if that is the signature left to the artist, the warrior athlete who,
there is only one other acceptable theory of how to hit a golf ball.
grip it and rip it.
call me roy, molly.
waggle it, doc, don't forget to waggle. waggle.  the club head.  .  it's a little relaxing ritual.
let the big dog eat!
the driver, the number one wood --
yeah, woods are metal -- don't worry about it -- and the driver's known as the big dog and i'm just saying to turn him loose, let 'er rip, let the big dog eat!
yes, ma'am, that's why i love it. and if you hit one good shot -- if that tuning fork rings in your loin -- you can't wait to get back.
did the tuning fork ring in your loin?
always quit on a good shot. we'll call that lesson number one.
perhaps i'm chocked full of inner demons?
what did you mean i should try 'being saddled' sometime?
were you being literal or was that some kind of freudian type deal? molly? doctor? what kind of saddle?
a class act there, boys -- probably the first actual `lady type' female ever seen on these premises --
free money, boys, what does doreen know about the fine art of greyhound breeding?
get ready for oddessa-lation, boys. how deep we in?
yeah, but i got every other dog in the race. i'm just getting even with doreen -- i'm not trying to clean her clock.
hundred.
hundred.
i said get even, pod. i didn't say shoot the wad. we better see that three dog rolling on his ass.
yes, i was saying that.  just before i was interrupted by.  bankruptcy -- a development that the 'doctor lady,' as you call her,
i think i been dating too many big-haired blondes.
you underestimate me, romes.
i'm sure she is.
busy man, courtenay, busy man --
hiya, honey -- lookin' sweet.
doreen.
there. with equity and inventory it's worth twelve grand.  more or less.
only on condition you don't sell right away, and me'n romeo keep our jobs.
equity, inventory, cash flow.  not to mention an enhanced stature in the community, and prepaid membership in the salome chamber of commerce.
let's see.  the tractor kid gets five bucks an hour. romeo, he gets ten cash --
myself?
you're referring to my managerial salary?
i still got two grand to pay off. and i can't see my new salary of seven bucks an hour plus lessons getting it done.
well the hood ain't too lively at the moment.
whoever it is, tell 'em i'm in houston on business.
what's the catch?
then make more birdies.
you ain't that friendly a guy.
you an' me --
 well, put 'er there, partner! these two homeboys are gonna show the world what golf in west texas is all about!
caddie? me?
simms!
i'll take the job.
that man stands for everything i hate in life.
i could.
five percent of your earnings does numb the gag reflex.
you can make that shot.
these fans didn't pay thirty bucks to watch a tour star lay up on a short par five.
no way. you're going for the green. these fans paid good money to see golf shots they can't hit, not golf shots they feel shitty about themselves for having to hit.
thirteen years on tour and you're still a pussy. hit the fucking one iron, dave.
two-fifteen to carry, and the tour star's laying up.
fire me? hell, i should fire you.
how you gonna fire me in front of all these people? especially when i knock it on the green.
you can't fire me. how can you fire me? i just knocked it stiff from two fifty. gimme that bag.
what about my money?
if i had it all to do over, i'd still hit that shot.
you know why i'd still hit that shot?
no.  i'd hit it again because that shot was a defining moment. and when a defining moment comes along you define the moment or the moment defines you. i did not shrink from the challenge. i rose to it.
i was playing to win.
greatness courts failure, romeo. that's why most people, in their whole lives, never ever reach for the brass ring, never know when to dig deep and try for the impossible shot.
it's a business proposition. i'm offering you my winnings from all them tournaments this summer.
my driving range back.
they ain't all strictly minor league. one of 'em pays almost two grand!
now wait, doreen. you gotta do the math, and you gotta look at how good i'm playing. i hit the shot of the tournament at the best-ball. they put it on national tv.
and what does that tell you?
and what does that tell you?
i'm not punching in no time
am i early?
a former paramour once ascribed my fluid sense of time to being born under the sign of pisces -- something about floating through the universe --
waggle.
set up to the ball like i showed you last time.
quit trying to wring that club's neck, molly. show it a little warmth and compassion.
remember, this game's about trust and touch and letting go. so while i'm subtly enhancing your technical prospects, why don't you tell me all about your personal life.
your boyfriend's a golfer -- that's my bet -- and he's why you're taking this game up. hell, i probably even know him --
not him.
he's taking her to miami for the fucking doral! how am i supposed to compete with that?
she must think i'm such a nothing, such a loser.  a lousy driving range pro living in a winnebago, making five bucks an hour plus lessons.
well, she sure as hell knows i ain't taking her to no doral for massages and mimosas all weekend. i gotta do something with my life.
i gotta rise to a level worthy of the women that think i'm a joke.
romeo, that idea has promise.
i ain't.
not just the biggest golf tournament in the world; the most democratic.
i mean it's open. anyone's got a shot at it. you just gotta get past a local and a sectional qualifier, and unlike doral or colonial or the a.t.t., they can't keep you out. they can't ask you if you're a garbageman or a bean- picker or a driving range pro whose check is signed by a stripper. you qualify, you're in.
who's intimidated? i just told you i'm gonna win the damn thing!
i got every shot in the book.
you suggesting i err on the side of excess?
well, since you're the authority, how'd you like to teach me how to be what i ain't and never will be?
this time'll be different. i promise.
yeah, well.  my sticks may be in a pawn shop, but i got a rake and a hoe at the range.
and i'll give ya two a side.  i got the title to my car as collateral.
that's cuz you think of it as transportation, boone. think of it as bragging rights. think of yourself sitting around the bar crowing to your buddies about the cadillac you won off tin cup mcavoy. they'll forget all about the winnebago you lost to me.
i'll be playing a pink lady today.
not unless i knock it by you.
yep, i caught this thing way the hell on the toe.
did you hear that, romeo? boone was being profound! he has revealed to me the essential mystery of golf! drive for show, putt for dough.  louisville slugger, please.
front left bunker -- plugged lie.
stand, please. gallery, please, stand.
i'll finish.
listen, swami, your job is to teach me patience and humility, not to advise me on my love life.
not all my thinking occurs below the belt. i actually stand for a few things beside where my next romantic interlude is coming from.
that would make an issue of something that ain't an issue. besides, i'm focused.
i mean, this is my quest!
this is where i stand up for all the little guys everywhere who've had their fill of soulless robots like david simms --
it'll prove to her that i'm not who she thinks i am.
hard-on?! hard-on?! hard-on?! here, touch me, feel -- i don't feel nothing! here!
okay, okay.  maybe i got a semi.
man, ever since i let her dump my ass she just can't resist kicking me in it.
after she ran off with that dallas banker?
romeo.  are you sweet on doreen?
great, romeo, just great.  just when i need you to be my friend and coach, you go get all gooey about one of my ex-girlfriends who just happens to be our boss.
i don't recall asking you for advice. women are tougher to figure out than a feathered one iron from a tight lie --
shut up, romeo.  i wasn't really seeking golf tips.
how far off the back foot?
i'm ready to charge forth in pursuit of my mythic destiny and i can't get time off work to do it.
i'm stuck. buried. my life's a plugged lie in a kakuyi bunker with a tight pin position on a green with a stimp meter reading of thirteen. i need help. i need advice. i need counsel.  i need a shrink.
i know one.
why not?
hose?! hose?! get your mouth outta the gutter! this is a matter of the heart!
i didn't do anything!
i need therapy.
what do i do? i mean.  to do it .  therapy.  i mean, how do i start doing.  it.
okay, okay, let 'er rip.  suppose there's this guy. he's standing on the shore of a big, wide river. and the river's fulla all manner of disaster, like alligators and piranhas and currents and eddies, and most people won't even go down there to dip a toe. but on the other side of the river's a million dollars, and on this side of the river there's a rowboat. i guess my question's this: what would possess the guy on shore to swim for it?
no. he's a hell of a swimmer, see. his problem's more like.  why's he always gotta rise to the challenge?
you don't understand what i mean by the river.
y'mean you're gonna make me feel lousy? i came here to feel better -- what kinda therapy is this?
i ain't just some jerk driving- range pro who drinks too much booze and eats too few vegetables.
well.  i'm smitten with a woman.
not yet.
she's seeing a guy. i don't know how serious it is, but the guy's a real horse's ass, in my opinion.
i'm afraid she'll say no.
christ, i didn't know we were gonna get into my personal life!
well, jeez, i know, but i didn't think it was that kind of therapy.
yeah.
i should ask this woman out.
i should risk coming right over the top and snap-hooking it out of bounds left.
risk hitting it a little thin and --
right. sorry.
dr. griswold -- i think i'm in
from the moment i first saw you i knew i was through with bar girls and strippers and motorcycle chicks, and when you started talking i was smitten and i'm smitten more every day i think about you -- and the fact that you know i'm full of crapola only makes you more attractive to me because usually i can bullshit people but i can't bullshit you and in addition, most women i'm thinking about how to get into their pants from day one but with you i'm just thinking about how to get into your heart --
stunned, eh? so what about dinner and we can talk about `us' and if we have a future and how to drop that horse's ass boyfriend of yours --
hey! i just hit a eight degree driver off a cart path here, i'm staring eagle in the face --
i'm acting from the heart so i can't make a mistake?! right?
would your advice have been different?
i'm gonna qualify for the u.s. open and kick your boyfriend's ass.
whatever you think of me, you should know that your boyfriend hates old people, children, and dogs.
dollar bills.
dollar bills.
if she was a par three, i'd'a made a nine.
dollar bills.
you perverts did that for me?
thanks, boys -- a man couldn't have better friends. now move the hell back and shut the fuck up. you're messing up my concentration.
debt collection? process server?
-- and big, beautiful green eyes -- i'm a beautiful guy.
for what?
a cowboy?
a new gig?
i got a little carried away, i guess. i shoulda just layed up, made my par, and moved on.
tee it up.
but you said you were a lousy shrink?
i got no money to pay for you.
you'll be with david.
i'm feelin' like par's a bad score, podnuh -- fifty-eight's within the realm!
didn't i tell ya? she's gonna be your guru partner. you handle my swing mechanics and she handles my brain mechanics.
me an' the 'big guy' have an understanding. he's gonna lie low till i get in the open -- then.  then.
the big dog'll hunt, that's for sure.
quiet in the gallery! a man's trying to do his job.
got my 'a' game with me today, folks.  you're in for a real treat!
dollar bills.
nutted it.
ben hogan? who's he?
the way i'm swinging today,
i said i want the big dog.
i'm not going left of those trees. i'm going over those trees.  with a little draw. that way i get home in two. that way i'm putting for eagle.
qualify? i want the course record! now gimme the lumber!
i think i'm gonna get penalized for slow play if you don't give me that fucking driver.
then let's ask the head doctor. dr. griswold? dr. griswold, should i hit the big dog or the two?
ha! gimme the driver and shut up.
i changed my mind. gimme the three wood.
wanna bet?
guess i'm going with the safe shot, boys.
sometimes i fan that two iron. better gimme the three.
sometimes i catch that three a little thin.
and i've hooked my four iron.  .  and hit flyers with the five.  .  and shanked the six.  .  and skulled the eight.  .  and fatted the nine.  .  and chili-dipped the wedge.  .  and bladed the sand wedge.  .  and then there's mister three-putt.
but the seven iron, i never miss the seven iron. it's the only truly safe club in my bag.
you happy, romeo?
what's this? you're quitting? first sign of adversity, you're quitting? anyone want to bet me i can't par in with a seven iron? doc? take the bet?
an easy game, this golf.
thanks, boys, what'ya think was my best shot -- the seven iron on twelve, the seven iron on fourteen, or maybe it was the bunker shot on eighteen which, to my recollection was a -- seven iron?
how'd i do, doc?
what?! i parred the back nine with a seven iron, i qualified for the regionals, i --
you said to 'trust my feelings'!
he always quits, he always comes back.
'regression, delusion, denial'? you gotta use all this psychological language?
i shot 65 -- parred the backside with a seven iron.
swear to god, doc, this guy is not who you think.
yeah, don't forget the dogs.
you ever shoot par with a seven iron?
i'll bet you a thousand dollars against my car that i can beat you in any game -- any game, you name it -- with a seven iron.
you a coward? you gonna lay up the way you did at the masters last year?
awright, awright! let's measure,
awright! what's the game?
it's a lock! i hit the seven like john daly hits a three!
from right here, okay?
dr. griswold, i know what i'm doing.
dollar bills.
that ball's about 2-2-7.  toed it a bit.  but it'll do.
take a minute to limber up, fine with me --
take your jacket off?
you're gonna need to muscle up, big guy -- give it the old steroid jerk.
hey, honey.
i broke my clubs -- don't ask why, my caddie's pissed off at me, i lost my wheels in a sucker bet, and my shrink thinks i'm a fool -- 'cause i probably am.
yeah, what's wrong with that?
you're so shallow. the good doctor and i are dealing with my regression and denial --
that's me.
yeah. you looking for a game?
excuse me, dor', the man's having trouble with his grip --
no, grip it like this, so you're holding on with the last two fingers of your left hand.
the grip and address are about 90 percent of the golf swing, so pay attention here.
 now the stronger right-hand grip can help ya draw the ball, which i plan to do at the regionals next week in tulsa.  just shift the hand over a little bit.  blah, blah, blah.
nothing to worry about, boys --
don't need him till the open -- he'll be back.
oh no, i got her. right here.
she can't travel to arizona for the regionals -- she's got a busy practice, y'know.  so she made me this tape to play while i'm out there.  keep me calm, cool, and collected.
a little james taylor, little george jones, little kahlil gibran, little this, little that.  and a lotta the voice of the smartest chick i ever met.
since when is therapy personal, eh?
a little more confidence there, earl.
shut up and hand me the big dog.
the force is with me, pods.
we need this one big time, earl, whattya think?
straight?! thing's a roller coaster breaks four ways and dies at the hole -- you're blind!
i got a blind caddie.  just hold the stick, earl -- and be sure to pull it out.
doc? doc? earl, earl -- the tape's jammed! she's abandoning me!
yeah, yeah.  i'm flying solo now.
i gotta make this putt.
 just pick the line, feel the speed -- bad timing, doc, jesus.
like a million others you made in your life, roy. just see it going in. just feel it.  right in the back of the jar.  just pull the goddamn trigger, you pussy.
pull the stick, earl, pull it!
choking dogs die!
romes! you've come back! you shoulda been there, romes, i drained a 30-foot snake to qualify! earl gave me a straight read -- the thing broke half a dozen times -- missed ya, pods!
okay, don't talk to me -- but you're still my guy.  it's a little late to be pissed off! we're in the open! you and me!
awright, be that way -- -- say.  has molly been around?
what's this? garbo speaks? of course i have the hots for her and i'm doing a damn good job of keeping things platonic and professional till i kick simms' ass and show her i ain't who she thinks i am because, in fact, i am who she thinks i am but if i win the open i won't be.
i made it this far! i just got to hold it together for 72 more
you're complaining again! romeo's back! whining, bitching, pissed off -- you're my man!
he was a wheezing heart attack waiting to happen -- cost me three strokes a side.  i carried my bag the last four holes. i love ol' earl but i need you.
i love you, too, god damn it!
i don't know! yes, yes, as much as earl -- more than earl!
if you can remove the sexual connotations and overlay a golf theme, romeo -- i am your juliet.
podnuh.
awright.  now that we got that bullshit outta the way, i'm gonna hit me some balls and start oilin' that sweet swing o' mine for the big boys.
nobody heard from molly, eh?
somethin' about that chick.
hmmm.  little chili dipper there.
romeo!
it ain't no chili dipper.
what am i doing wrong?
romes! something's terribly wrong. what's your guess?!
i thought you said it was a virus?
what do i do?
y'know why they named this game 'golf'? 'cause the words 'fuck' and 'shit' were already taken!
what is this? everybody like to watch a train wreck?!
unless it's a 'swing thought,' i'm not interested.
but i got the shanks --
is it really that obvious?
awright, awright.
you expect me to pack that around?
i'm being sponsored by a sewage disposal system?
i'm supposed to wear this shit?
hell, i won't even make the cut!
look, everybody, this is great. i'm sorry i'm acting so pathetic but my swing's never abandoned me before. i just need a little time to work it out.
maybe it's my grip.  maybe i'm opening up too soon.  too late.  coming over the top.  no, dropping underneath.  oh, sweet jesus, why have you abandoned me?
i need to be alone.
aarghh.
dr. griswold.
the therapist laughs at her patient? is that how it works? a man is laid bare before god and he's the butt of the cosmic joke?
some of this shit might actually
well, god damn.  a lost and desperate soul stands before you. i assume i have the confidentiality of doctor-client privilege in regards to this outfit?
i got the shanks.
it can't be treated! it's much worse than whatever you thought it was. there's a glitch in my swing.
he thinks it's your department -- says it's a head thing.
i don't want therapy. i want you.
look at me -- well, not right at the moment -- but listen to me. you're with the wrong guy. i'm the right guy. everyone tells me my face is all screwed up tight as a drum 'cause i've been crazy about you from the day you showed up wearing this stupid stuff and the whole damn thing has both inspired me to get here on the verge of greatness yet it's also caused me to get the shanks which could humiliate me in front of a zillion people. such is life. so dump that phony bastard and come to the open in my corner -- you can delay your romantic urges, which i know are lurking in there among the excess of brain cells you possess -- until the appropriate time.  tell me you're not at least moderately attracted to me.
tell me which ones are my moments and i'll try to duplicate them.
now?!
my inner child needs spanking.
c'mon, let's have a drink. call it therapy. charge me 75 an hour. little cuervo, little freud.
i know a spot along the river's great to watch the sunset?
'not tonight' means maybe some other night?
consciously you didn't mean it like that -- but how about unconsciously, you're the expert, did you mean it unconsciously?
i feel we're making progress.
put your money on me, doc, the odds are fabulous and god knows i'm overdue.
goin' to the u.s. open with the shanks. gonna be chili dipping my way around the course on worldwide television.  sure, relax.
molly and i are circling each other.  i can feel it.
naw.
tell me something, romes -- the absolute truth -- you think i can go 72 holes without falling apart.
you heard me! i don't want no bullshit.  do you think i can do it?
i bet this is the first winnebago they ever saw here.
roy 'tin cup' mcavoy. representing the great american southwest.
there's a mistake here, fellas!
hiya, david.  nice sweater.
which way to the practice range?
look at these balls. brand new titleists. lookit 'em, every one a brand new titleist. sneak a few in the bag when you get a chance. we swipe enough free shit we might even pay for this fiasco.
i think it's a dead giveaway, romes.  but if i still got the shanks we're gonna be found out real fast.
good thought, pods.
dollar bills.
who hit that shot? anybody see?
a little fucking thin?! i still got the shanks! everybody's watching! christ, simms is here.
if you're the mexican mac o'grady, romes, you gotta figure out why i'm still shanking the ball. what's the problem? i'm catching it on the hosel, right? moving my head? i'm laying off it, i'm pronating, i'm supinating, i'm clearing too early, i'm clearing too late, i'm off plane, i ain't dropping in -- oh, god, my swing feels like an unfolding lawn chair.
anything. kill me now!
i'll look like a fool.
okay, okay.
how'd i do that?
fuck you.
that's it?
that's rarely been a problem. what now?
get drunk?
it's three in the morning, romes, what time i tee off?
that's four hours from now?
no time for a bucket, eh?
no, i've learned my lesson. gonna play it safe, smart, conservative. fairways and greens. hand me the two iron.
thought of the day is -- `be humble.'
eleven bogeys and seven pars. i didn't make a three. i didn't make one goddam three all day.
i was hungover!
thanks, amigo.
the anti-christ shoots 67, you believe it?
what? it's about cheating and racism and bullshit!
coulda been worse.
i missed a four foot putt on the eighteen for an 82, that's how.
molly, it's okay, go away.  i don't need any attention right
molly, please.
i wanta go back to texas.
one swing? four to one odds.
kind of a thin lie.
what is this all about?
dollar bills.
actually i thinned it a little or that pelican'd be flying around with a titleist up his ass.
i kinda shanked it, eh?
tempo is everything.
mighta rushed it on the downswing.
yeah.  well, as walter hagen once said -- 'sex and golf are the only two things you can be bad at and still enjoy'
nope.
what the hell. you ride 'er till she bucks you or you don't ride at all. i can save par from here.
well, it wasn't from clean living.
yeah. and i'll go for it tomorrow and i'll go for it sunday, cuz i didn't come here to play for no second.
gimme the three wood.
i know.
this is for venturi, up there in the booth, thinking i should lay up.  dollar bills.
that's a long fucking ways. gimme another ball.
what?
you're right. what the hell was i thinking?
i saved par, didn't i?
you don't think i can knock it on from there?
so am i! look at me. i'm playing for.  .  rio grande short-haul trucking, brink and brown sanitation, first state bank of salome, wally's smokehouse.  you think a guy like me bothers to think about the percentages? --
nothing to celebrate yet. plus these are my people. i'm a waffle house guy -- gotta stay in touch with that.
if the boys from salome was in town -- this is where they'd be.
we're home now!
doreen, meet dr. griswold.  er, molly.  my shrink --
it just don't get much better than this.
yeah, i'm nervous. so's everybody else. but i only gotta come and catch simms. sixty-seven guys gotta come and get me.
it won't always be like this.  y'know.  with me.  surrounded by all these guys.  snoring.  a stripper ex-girlfriend on the floor.  my caddie sleeping next to her.  all of us damn near broke.  won't always be like this.
musta got too much sleep last night. how you choking?
no one's ever been ten under for the open, not even nicklaus.
that's always been your problem, dave. you don't think about winning; you just want to look good. thing is, this ain't a beauty pageant. and it ain't a rain-shortened quad cities or a greater greensboro you can back into. this is you'n me, pal. this is match-play, and this time you ain't getting no three shots.
fairways and greens, dave.  and don't forget to wave as i blow by.
do me a favor. bet me a buck i don't put it in the fairway.
okay, good. puts things back in perspective.
just keep making pars, asshole.
and i will own you.
fifty bucks says i knock it on.  with a seven iron.
beauty, dave. par written all over it.
that's right, peter. you'n me. that's all there is.
jacobsen's laying up. you ain't gonna have that luxury, dave. not if you play to win.
i didn't catch it all.
so birdie wins it.
you or me, dave?
he's laying up. birdie to tie, eagle to win, and that gutless wonder's laying up.
you know something, romeo? eagle puts me ten under. no one's ever finished an open ten under, not even nicklaus.
this is everything, ain't it? this is the choice it comes down to. this is our immortality.
one swing, roy. one good swing. dollar bills.
we're home.
 little gust there, romes.
i nutted that thing. little gust from the gods cost me.
i can make this shot.
now.
i'm playing it from here.
gimme another ball.
i can make it across.
dollar bills.
someday you can tell your grandchildren you finished second in the u.s. open.  -- just don't tell 'em how.
good job, tubbsy.  you won it.
my god.  i just gave away the open.
it's not difficult to talk.  it's difficult to explain.  i coulda laid up and still won. i made a twelve on the last hole of the u.s. open. you know how much money that cost me?
i gotta get outta here.
molly, i'm an idiot. i gave away the open. the one time in my life i know the play is to hit the lay up -- my whole life and future and career on the line, and i still can't make myself do it. i am a twisted human being and a cautionary tale. and i guess i'm a fool?
some people don't like west texas but i think it's the most beautiful place on earth.
damn, i didn't know that.
then i wouldn't see you.
there's a lotta head cases out there, you could make a bundle.
y'know.  a man goes through what i've gone through, he's supposed to learn something. i'm trying to figure out what i learned. did i learn anything?
and that there's a time in life to play it safe.
c'mon, molly, when did you ever take a crazy risk?