All language subtitles for Balls.Out.Gary.The.Tennis.Coach.2009.720p.1080p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]-English

Subtitle Modified by : SDR

Beer and beef jerky.

The breakfast of champions.

Anyhoo, my name
is Gary Houseman.

I'm a guy who's done
some hard living,

and it all started with tennis.

You know, tennis,
the sport of kings.

A game of beauty, power, grace,

and all that other horseshit.

I was born into a
family of tennis freaks.

I was brought up
to love the game,

whether it was played on grass, clay,
cement or on the table in our basement

wearing only our nut-huggers.

My dad loved tennis.

- Regular tennis...
- Out!

Table tennis, it didn't matter.

Ball nicked. Point to Dwight.

But my old man was a cheater.

- Dwight wins.
- That's bullshit.

I fucking own you, Gary.

And my brother, well,
he was just a dick.

They shit on my game
every chance they had,

and I never got a taste of that
sweet, sweet winner's jerky.

I decided then and there to
go for something far sweeter.

The taste of tennis glory.

After years of climbing my
way up the tennis ladder,

I found myself grinding it out
in the Mexican semi-pro tour,

one small step away
from the big leagues.

But it was hot as balls,
and the prize money sucked.

Eventually,

the pressure kind of got to me.

Sorry.

Based on some on-court issues
and a minor off-court incident,

I was booted off the tour.

But I used my newly-found free
time to meet some new people.

And also do some traveling.

When I reached
Nebraska, I saw a sign.

And when my traveling companions
accidentally left me behind...

Wait!

It was clearly another sign.

I bought everyone beef jerky.

As I stood there in
that lonely road,

I realized that this was as good a place
as any for a man to reinvent himself.

As long as I kept away from tennis
and those fuzzy yellow balls,

everything would be fine.

Not only that, the home prices
in Nebraska are very reasonable.

So I became an engineer.

A custodial engineer
at Lincoln West High.

- Nice shorts, little guy!
- Tennis sucks, dude.

And it's all good,

just as long as tennis stays
the hell out of my life.

What the fuck?

A little help?

Why won't Lady Tennis
leave me alone?

Little help, please.

All right, backhand
drill. Let's go.

Randy.

That was terrible.

Nibbins.

No. Hey, the net's this way.

Mike!

Nice one. That's a winner.
All right, here we go, Nibby.

Nibby. Watch your head.

Playing tennis? Or is that
croquet? What are you playing?

Don't forget to mark it on
the ball. That's number one.

- Let's bring it in, men!
- Okay.

Come on, Chang.

All right, 10 laps around the court
before you take off. Let's go!

Nibby, let's marshal here.

- Awful big forehand.
- Pardon?

I saw you hitting yesterday.

You don't see strokes
like that very often.

Yeah. Me and tennis,
we go way back.

- You want the long or the short version?
- I like them short.

Grew up in a tennis family.

My brother was headed for the
pros before he blew out his knee.

According to my dad, I never
showed the same promise.

But I was still good enough to win the
top spot on my hometown's college team.

I only played with them briefly,

due to a lack of support
from my teammates.

Hey, Gary.

Take that, you cheater!

After leaving college, I led a
tennis journeyman's existence.

But my career was rear-ended
by a total misunderstanding.

What the fuck?

Let the girl go! Let her go!

Take me instead.

I don't want to
talk about tennis

- right now.
- Gary!

After that painful experience,
I fell on some dark times.

I'll save you.

But eventually I got
my shit together.

I found this kick-ass
job, and here I am.

Sounds like you've walked
a rocky road, friend.

But, hell, as the
old man owl says,

"That's what puts hair
on a man's balls."

That's exactly how I see it.

- I'm Lew Tuttle.
- Gary Houseman.

So how's your squad looking?

We might win one or two matches.

Team captain, he's
a real scrapper.

Problem is, it's a big drop
from him to our two man.

Makes it hard to compete

against a Southpoint High
slinger like Tommy Tremble

if he doesn't have any decent
competition in practice?

Yeah.

Say,

you wouldn't happen to be free to bang
a few with him around 3:15, would you?

No. I'm done with tennis.

Sure, I hit a few balls yesterday,
but that was an exception.

Maybe tennis has been good to you, but
she really did a fucking number on me.

I will never go back to tennis.

Ad-in.

Get that bitch!

Yeah! Fuck, yeah!

He got you there, Mike!

- Pretty prime strokes out there, Cappy.
- Thanks.

Couple points here and there, and
I'm on the losing end of this thing.

Great playing, men.

Where'd you learn to
hit that last one?

I haven't seen a 'tweener since
Yannick Noah in the French.

It's a Zen thing.

You gotta be in the moment,
then lose your flow.

Lose your flow?

Hey, if you're always free at this
time, I could sure use an assistant.

I think you'd be a hell of an asset to
this team, especially to Mike over there.

Well, I'm a little tight on time, but I
might be able to fit it into my schedule.

All right, everybody, listen up.

I'm sure most of you heard
through the grapevine

Mr. Houseman here is gonna
be our new assistant coach.

So let's all give him a
warm Cherokee welcome.

That's pathetic.

Okay, everyone, let's warm up.

Coach, I've worked out
some drill patterns

that I think could amplify
your coaching style.

Son of a bitch!

Look at that little dandy.

I've told him a hundred times,

I don't want to see that faggy
two-handed forehand shit.

Nibby, one hand, God damn it!

That boy doesn't have an
ounce of self-respect.

Say, can you hold down the
fort? I gotta go take a dump.

You bet.

Sorry about that. You can't
come in on that like that.

So, are you, like, the only tennis
groupie at this school or what?

I've been around the
tennis scene a long time.

Believe me, I've known
plenty of chicks like you.

What I don't know is which one
of these cowboys you're banging.

And I need to know that
so I can coach around it.

Really?

Actually, I'm Jenny Tuttle.

I work in the training
room after school

and then I come down here to
catch a ride home with my dad.

Oh, shit. I'm sorry.

You're a Tuttle?
That's fucking awesome.

I didn't mean to imply that you look
like some kind of slut or something.

I guess I'm the
dickhead on this one.

- I'm Gary, by the way.
- Yeah, I know.

- School's new janitor, right?
- And the new assistant coach.

I take both jobs seriously.

The school has been looking
really clean lately.

Thank you.

Gary, you are the man.

It's only taken you a few short weeks
here in Lincoln to turn your life around.

Damn, beer is good.

Coach Tuttle has given you
a shot at tennis redemption.

Cherish it.

He's Simon, you're Garfunkel

and together you're about
to make sweet tennis music.

We've had a lot of fun
working with rhomboids,

but I can't spend the whole
term talking about rhomboids.

The discussion
today is triangles.

So...

Who can tell me the difference between
an isosceles and an equilateral?

Yeah.

All three sides of an equilateral
triangle have the same length

and each corner has
a 60-degree angle.

An isosceles triangle, only two
sides are the same length and...

What's going on?

- Mr. Tuttle's dead!
- What?

He was just explaining isosceles and
then he bent over and he just dropped.

I don't understand. Triangles?

He just dropped!

Make a path! Get out of my
fucking way! Coach down!

What the fuck!

- Hey!
- He's clear.

Give me the fucking things! You know,
the things! The fucking clappers!

- He's been gone for 20 minutes.
- Bullshit!

You medevac in a baboon's
heart right fucking now.

I'm sorry, sir. You have
to step back. He's gone.

Clear a path.

Coming through.

Come back, Coach. Those bright
lights aren't court lamps.

And, obviously, we're all stunned
at what happened the other day.

Lew was the real deal.

They broke the mold when
they made that son of a gun.

I understand Lew appointed
you to be his assistant.

- Yes, sir.
- Glad to hear it.

That'll make the transition
a lot easier on the boys.

Gary, I've appointed
Steve to be head coach.

Unfortunately, Steve doesn't
know a thing about tennis,

or any other sport,
for that matter.

Well, you know, actually,
badminton is very similar

in that they both use rackets, only
instead of keeping balls aloft...

But, he's the only faculty
member who volunteered,

so, he's in.

I'm sorry I couldn't promote
you to head coach, Gary.

City rules dictate that all
head coaches have to be faculty.

But you can make this a lot easier on
the boys by keeping up Lew's routines.

He ran a tight ship.

So, I want the two of you to think
of yourselves as co-head coaches.

Amy, what are you doing here?

- Sorry, Daddy. I had to leave school.
- What is it this time?

I'm pregnant, and I need
money for an abortion.

Amy, do you remember what
Dr. Saxena said about telling lies?

But I'm not lying!

And last month you had AIDS?

That prostitute made me
shoot up with a dirty needle.

I don't want my baby
to have the AIDS!

That's why I need an abortion!

Honey, I'm in the middle
of something here.

Why don't you wait outside with Meg and
I'll walk you back to school later, okay?

Okay.

That's right,
sweetie, stay with me.

- How old is she?
- Eight.

That's a fun age.

Anyway, this isn't football,

so no one's gonna be overly
concerned about your record.

Let's just try to make tennis
something these boys can fall back on

while they deal with
their coach's death.

Well, yeah, certainly
death is not an easy...

I disagree.

Mr. Daubert's exactly right!
We can help these boys!

Tennis won't die on them.
And they need to know that!

Well, I never meant to suggest
that tennis would die on them.

I'm just saying that
every life form expires,

and it's not easy
for other organisms

in the vicinity of
the dying party.

- Jenny, can you get the door?
- Okay, Mom.

Hi, Jenny. I'm so sorry.

- I brought your family some chocolates.
- Thanks.

- Jenny, who is it?
- The janitor.

And the new head coach.

Yes?

I like them short.

Yes?

Hi.

God damn it! Doesn't make
any sense! Prime of his life!

I'm just worried about the boys.

Coach T. Left shoes too
big for 10 men to fill,

and here my assistant and I...

Do you know Steve Pimble?

I believe our eldest had
him for Chemistry last year.

- Your eldest? Son or daughter?
- Son.

- He's a freshman at the U.
- That's great.

Will he coach tennis
after college?

I don't think so. Brad's pre-med. He's
more of an intellectual than an athlete.

Yes!

Yeah!

Well, the world
needs doctors, too.

Anyway, I just
thought I would ask,

and please stop me if this
is inappropriate timing,

I was hoping that Coach T.
Had some instructional tools,

or anything that might
help our transition.

I remember that he had a student
videotape some of the matches.

That would be great.

Jenny, grab the sun tea off the
porch and pour Gary a glass.

Down! Down! Get off!

Here you go.

Thank you.

So, Jenny, I know how
much you love tennis.

And I just want you to know

that if you ever want to hang
around at practice like you used to,

or if you need a ride home,
or anything, just let me know.

I don't love tennis.

You at least like
it, though, right?

I like watching it, I guess.
But I don't really play.

Volleyball's more my sport.

- Court or sand?
- Court.

I'm more of a sand man, myself.

In fact, I was partying with the Dominican
sand team down in Cabo a few years ago,

and we were just completely
out of our minds on mescaline,

and these two little
nymphos walked by

and they were like, "Show
us your cocks!" You know.

I'm sorry, Jenny, that was probably not
the most appropriate story right now.

So do you play on
the volleyball team?

I played in junior high, but
I'm not good enough for varsity.

Thanks.

Are those Coach Tuttle's dogs?

Yes, they are. Were.

They're quite a handful,
always knocking me down.

They're just so big.

May I pet them?

Whether it was on the court
or off the court, Coach T.

Always had time for his kids.

No matter if they were in
his class, on his team,

or just needed
someone to talk to,

Coach T. Always made
them a priority.

If they needed
him, he was there.

He was unique, and
he was an original.

I want to thank you all
for being here today.

Please sign the memorial
book on your way out.

This will conclude our service.

I remember the first
time that I saw Coach T.

He was on the court, his beloved
boys gathered around him.

My God, what a presence!

Next day, I met him.

He told me this was his year.

With this group of boys, he
would end the 20-year drought

and bring home the Ark of the Covenant,
the elusive Nebraska state tennis title.

Like Moses, Coach T. Will not see
the promised land with earthly eyes.

But I want him to know that
we will fight the good fight.

And with the help of
his guiding spirit,

we will bring home the
state trophy to West High

where Coach always
knew it belonged.

God bless you, Coach T.

We will always...

We will always...

God damn you, heaven,
you son of a bitch!

We're gonna miss the shit
out of you, you old man!

He was a good man.

Maybe the best.

I'm sorry to interrupt.

I'm Gary, the new tennis coach.

May I borrow Mike
for a few minutes?

- She's really hot.
- Yeah.

- What's her name?
- Miss Sanchez. She's from Argentina.

- You banging her?
- No.

So I've been watching some of your
junior year work against Southpoint.

Watch this and tell
me what's wrong.

Get your damn head in the game!

Yeah, Mike. Pull your
damn head out of your ass!

- My approach shot was down the middle?
- No, that's fine.

And forget that bullshit about
always approaching to the backhand.

Down the middle takes
away passing angles.

- My approach shot was too soft?
- That's not it.

I should've sliced my
approach to keep it low.

Forget the fucking approach
shot! Look at your footwork.

You run to the net like a maniac.
You can't cut off his angles.

Do you know what
a split-step is?

- I'm not sure.
- I'll show you.

Okay, I start off to the net,

and just as my opponent hits the
ball, I stop. Just for a second.

Now, I can volley
in any direction.

And if the cocksucker decides to
get tricky and throws up a lob,

my momentum is already stopped

and I can just back-pedal into a
Jimmy Connors sky-hook overhand.

End of story.

Okay. Yeah, I'll work on that.

Good, because if we're
gonna beat Southpoint,

you've got to take out that
swinging dick Tommy Tremble.

By the way, was that your
dad yelling on the tape?

Yeah. He's pretty competitive.

- And the boy?
- That's my little brother, Ronny.

I've been there, man.

You were at that match?

No, I mean I had a dad with a cob up his
ass and a brother with a fresh mouth.

Anyways...

Now, Miss Sanchez. Portuguese.

Thank you for waiting. Can
I take your order, please?

Yeah, give me two cheeseburgers,
two fish sandwiches,

three large fries and a
large strawberry shake.

- Would you like a hot apple pie with that?
- Yeah, okay.

Here we go, Gary. Your
first day as head coach.

I feel awesome. Like
I'm walking on sunshine.

And this food is so damn tasty.

And you better believe this meal's
gonna feel twice as good coming out

as it did going in.

Come on, guys. Bring it in, men.
Let's go, boys, bring it in.

In my hand I hold every match score
sheet and tournament draw sheet

this team has played in
over the past 20 years.

Seven years ago, you qualified for
state and finished in 11th place.

Rad. That's your one and
only highlight, gentlemen.

Anyone want to go through your
low lights? I didn't think so.

Nibby! What is all this?

Our records?

- How about it, Chang?
- Crap.

Well, I guess that's true.

Cappy, what the hell
is all this crap?

- The past.
- That's right! It's the past.

Yes, it's shit.
But it's past shit.

Does anyone wanna know what I think
about all these shit showings?

Raise your hand if you want to know
what I think about all this shit!

- What do you think about that, Cappy?
- I'm not sure.

A purging! That's what we
need! A fucking purging!

We've got a little Cherokee
spirit jumping out here!

- Come on, you feel that, Nibby?
- Yeah, yeah. I think so.

That's what I'm talking
about! Come on! It feels good!

A fucking fresh start, Chang!

- Fuck, yeah!
- Fuck, yeah! Fuck, yeah!

- Coach Tuttle would have understood.
- Heck, yeah.

Sometimes we need to mold beauty
out of the clay of ugliness.

That said, I still should have immediately
cleaned the vomit off those courts.

No problem at all. You know I've
always got time to talk football.

I'm glad you've got confidence
in your offensive line, Jeffrey.

That'll help me sleep at night.

Hey, and tell your old man
he still owes me a sixer.

It's been 20 years and
he still hasn't paid up.

- All right, I'll tell him, Mr. D.
- Thanks.

Is this an emergency, Steve?

No, not an emergency,
necessarily, but it is about Gary.

- He vomited.
- Good! Let's talk later.

Mr. Daubert's office.

He's a pretty busy guy.

I liked your energy
out there today, guys,

but energy and motivation
are only half the game.

A lot of you boys
are weak. Physically.

Especially in those little
chopsticks you like to call legs.

Can't do anything in tennis if
you don't have the legs for it.

Coach P is going
to jump on my back.

Come on, Coach, go ahead.

Get up.

Okay, guys, pair up!

Fifty Popeyes each.
One, two, three.

- Feel that burn, Cappy?
- Yes, Coach, I do.

Actually, Steve, can you
get off my back, please?

Steve! Can you get off my back?

What the...

You guys keep going.

It's gonna be a
tough season, men.

You're gonna have to dig deep to
make Coach T's dream a reality.

Wipe that goddamn smile
off your face, Paul!

I'm not talking about
muff diving here.

I'm talking about digging
for the state title!

Come on, Chang! Let's start
off the season with a win!

- God damn it!
- God damn it.

Oh, boy.

This team really sucks.

Cappy, move your legs. That's
where the power comes from.

Nibby, what are you doing?
What are you choking up for?

Move your hand down the shaft.
You know how that feels, right?

Right foot forward. All
right. Bring your arm up.

Yeah. You know what? Just
go take a seat. It's okay.

Jenny sure looks down.

But, Gary, sometimes you got
to give people their space.

And right now, you need to
focus on your second match.

Yeah!

Close means squat. You've got to teach
these boys to go for the damn jugular!

- That's the win.
- Yeah, Paul!

- Yeah!
- Yeah.

It always feels good to
take one from behind.

But I think we may be a player short
for making a real run at state.

It might be time for Plan
Foreign Exchange Student.

But you've got to admit, Gary,
the team's coming together.

And it sure is nice to see
Jenny coming back around.

Excuse me, Jenny.
God damn this cold.

You won't be late for dinner if I
run in here real quick, will you?

No, I'm fine.

Great. I'll just be a minute.

So, Mike, how's your
lame-ass tennis team doing?

We're two and three now.

Right.

- Hello, is Mike Jenson there?
- Mike.

- Hello?
- Hey, Cappy.

You're not gonna believe this.

Here we got fucking Southpoint on
Friday and I got a head cold in spades,

but I was calling to
tell you the news.

You remember that foreign exchange
student I thought I could bring in?

The 20-year-old Swede?

No, no, no. That fell through.
The other one. The Filipino.

- I thought you said you were misled.
- More of a misunderstanding.

Turns out he's the fricking junior
Ping-Pong champ of the Philippines.

He never played tennis, but he must
have out-of-this-world hand-eye.

He's on an overnight
layover in the tropics,

but he'll be here in
time for Southpoint.

I just need a damn host family.
Think he can crash at your pad?

- I don't think so.
- Why not?

My dad doesn't like foreigners.

All right. See you, Cappy.

- Who the hell was that?
- It was just Coach Houseman.

The janitor?

Sorry about the
extended pit stop.

- What's in the bag?
- NyQuil and some beef jerky.

Hey, hey! Let me have that!
My germs are all over it.

Why did you buy condoms?

Well... Jenny, did Coach
ever talk to you about...

- Have you taken Health class yet?
- You don't think I know about sex?

No. Yeah. It's...

- Please don't open that.
- Who are you going to hump?

Nobody in particular. I
just realized I'm out.

Gross! Why does it have ruffles?

Those are called ribs, Jenny,
and they're for extra pleasure.

- These are for pervs.
- No. A lot of people enjoy...

You know what? This
is awkward, okay?

You really shouldn't be
touching that at your age.

And it smells funny.

- Thanks for the ride.
- No problem.

Yeah, I'll see you later!

I shouldn't even be looking.

Fifteen will get you 20.

Know what I mean?

Yeah.

So when is your
dad getting back?

When his research is going well, sometimes
he stays on campus past midnight.

- Where's your mom?
- Visiting her sister.

- In China?
- Omaha.

Let's start the game. Come on.

My grandpa used to
play tennis in Hanoi.

Okay.

- What the fuck you doing?
- Your flag dropped. Good game.

Jesus H., Chang! You're not gonna
win on a technicality, are you?

God damn it!

- I'll spot you five minutes.
- You're too kind.

- Checkmate.
- That's a crock.

You fucked me up with
all that timer horseshit!

- What the fuck is he laughing at?
- He just likes to laugh.

Look, Chongers.

Now, I pulled some
strings with Congo Air

to get this Filipino kid here
in time for Friday's match.

But I need a
goddamn host family.

- So, is your dad gonna step up or what?
- I don't know, Coach.

It's kind of last minute, and
my dad's not big on surprises.

Well, shit, ask
your grandpa, then.

He says okay.

Thank you.

Man, I'm sick of being sick.

But at least on the tennis
front things are looking up.

That Filipino ringer you
wrangled is finally on his way.

So just be Zen, Gary.

Drink up your patented
Houseman health shake

and let life's juices flow.

For the love of Christ,
Jones and Nibbins,

don't fucking shy away
from the goddamn ball!

God damn it!

Jones! Nibbins!

Hey, Gary! What are you doing?

Why the fuck are you two so
scared of a little yellow ball?

- We're not.
- I've been sitting in my house

watching you two shy away from every
goddamn ball for the last 10 minutes!

Tell me you haven't! Say it!

- We haven't.
- Really?

- Gary...
- Not now, Coach.

That hurt?

Hey, hey. Hey, stop crying.

- Nibbins, look at me. Are you hurt?
- No.

- Jonesy, you hurt?
- No.

You see? There's
nothing to be scared of.

It's just a little yellow ball.

- Stings though, don't it?
- Yeah.

Listen, when you're at the net

and some jokester is taking target
practice at you, guess what?

He can't hurt you.

And if you stay on top of the goddamn
net, you can take away all his angles!

You can see that tennis is
a game of angles, can't you?

- Yeah.
- Okay, then.

Sorry about that, Coach.

Except for Jones and Nibbins,

it looks like you got practice
running pretty smoothly.

Thanks.

Don't look so worried.
My fever broke.

Attention, students.

- Hey, how you doing?
- The harvest dance is this Friday night.

Hey, Mr. Daubert, do you have a minute? I
need to talk to you about the tennis team.

- Is there a problem?
- No.

- Well, yes, sort of.
- Hey, how you doing?

There just seems to be some
wrong things happening.

Been some wrong things with the tennis
team for quite some time, Steve.

As a matter of fact, they've pretty
much sucked for the last 20 years.

- Get that History grade up, Jeffrey.
- Yes, sir, I will, Mr. D.

- Well, that's not what I mean.
- What is it, Steve?

Well, it's Gary. There was an incident
in front of the cross-country team.

He was only wearing
an athletic supporter

and he was hitting the
boys with tennis balls...

Not the blind boy.

No, no. He was hitting our boys. You
know. And I just thought you should know.

I see.

Hey, listen, if you happen
to talk to Gary about this,

would it possible to not discuss
where you got this information?

No problem, Steve.

I mean, I got budget cuts up the ass,
half the football team is failing History,

and my daughter subscribes to
Leather & Bondage magazine.

But don't worry, Steve, I'll just
drop everything and deal with this.

Jesus, I never had you
pegged as an informer.

Hey, how you doing?

Okay.

Look out, Johnny, I hear
this little fatherfucker

can suck the skin off a potato.

- I gotta go to class.
- All right, butt-monkey. Go to class.

But don't let me catch you
eye-balling my Johnson again.

Nibby, what the fuck?

You just open wide when
they feed you shit?

- Tit for fucking tat!
- He'll beat me up!

Fucking A, Nibbins! Don't
shy away from this, too!

- I can't.
- God damn it, Nibby!

You don't do
something right now,

I'm gonna fucking yank you
from the team, you hear me?

I got no fucking
time for pansies!

Dick!

Hey! What the fuck is going on?

That kid just knocked
my shit on the floor.

Why you grabbing his
ass, quarterback?

You like little boys'
tight assholes? Is that it?

Man, I know some mean muchachos

who wouldn't think twice about putting
a dent in your little boy-loving skull

and shoving a fucking
shiv down your dickhole.

Hey, QB, good luck against
Creighton Prep Saturday.

Pitch the ball every once in a
while when you run the option.

You do know you have the option
to pitch the ball on that play?

That's why it's
called an option.

Hello, señor Houseman.
How are you today?

Very well.

So, señor Houseman, where did
you learn to speak Spanish?

Lived in México for a few years.

So, I saw that we're both signed up to
chaperone that harvest dance tonight.

- Sí. Sí. Yes, I...
- Yeah.

You know, it's like...
Maybe you and I, we could...

You know what I mean?

I gotta Ping-Pong airport later.

You know?

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

It's all coming together, Gary.

The seeds of romance
have been planted.

Now we'll see if that Filipino
Ping-Pong popper pans out.

At least there's something to be said
for being sick and having loose stools.

That's it, Gary. Get it
all out of your system.

That was just a little
psych-ops mission.

I don't know what they told you
about us in the Philippines,

but America isn't all cream cakes
and crates of Pepsi, Maricar.

I'm sorry you had to watch me drop
a heavy on your first night here.

Number one singles for Southpoint,
I've got Tommy Tremble.

Number one singles for
West, Mr. Mike Jenson!

You shouldn't have
shit on our courts.

- What?
- Don't listen to them.

Players, the match begins now.

This is not Ping-Pong,
Maricar! Hit over the net.

It's over.

- A lot of tennis to be played.
- Different year, same shit.

Come on, Ronny.

Damn it, Paul!

If you're gonna be the team
videographer, I need some decent shots!

Come on, man! Tennis
Filming 101! High angles!

What a beautiful day.

It was so kind of you to stop
by and get me out of the house.

My pleasure.

- What's Nibbins' score?
- He just went down a set.

I've got to change the MO.

The kid's foot-faulting!

- Who?
- Who?

Tommy Tremble, bro! He's been
doing it all goddamn day.

Coach, you're out of line.

If you have a complaint against
Tommy, I'll watch, and I'll see it.

No wonder Southpoint never loses.
The fucking ump's on the payroll!

That's enough, Coach. You have
five minutes to leave the match.

Fine! I'm already gone!

- What happened?
- The old-timer tossed me out.

Said I have five minutes
to vacate the premises.

Bring them home, Coach.
See you at the dance later.

Where you going, Gary?

I'm still having some issues
with the scoring system!

Oh, God.

Oh, no!

Life's nothing unless you
take some risks, Gary.

That's why tonight you
need to let it all hang out

and sweep Miss Sanchez off
her little Portuguese ta-Ta's.

Hello.

Punch.

So, you win big matches?

From what I saw it wasn't
looking too good, Miss Sanchez.

I'm sorry to hear that.

You can call me
Norma, señor Houseman.

So... Hey, you want
to go out there and...

Yes?

Thanks for the punch.

Hello, Miss Sanchez. You
look muy Bonita this evening.

So, maybe I could start stopping by after
school for some one-on-one tutoring.

No. I don't like waste time.

So, what was the final damage with
that little dingleberry Tommy Tremble?

4-6, 5-7.

Hey, not bad. It's not
a win, but not bad.

Jesus, Cappy, why aren't
you out in your car

getting your dinky stinky in
some tight little cheerleader?

What is that? Punch?

I'm a little thirsty. I'm
gonna get myself a coffee.

Ask someone to dance! Jesus! It's
not that hard to say, "Hey, Norma",

"would you like
to dance with me?"

Or, you know, Sally, or
Betsy. It don't matter.

Hey, what about her?

- Yeah, right.
- Come on! Give it a shot. You never know.

- But I don't know any moves.
- Moves?

This isn't Soul Train, man. Just
get out there and explore your vibe.

Watch. I'll show you.

So, Jenny, I thought you were
having a great time dancing,

but then I look over, and poof,
you're off by yourself, all sad.

Things have just gotten really
heavy, ever since my dad died.

- It's hard to explain.
- I get it.

I mean, I've never lost a parent, but
I feel like I never really had a dad.

But that's a whole
other kettle of fish.

Jenny.

Hey.

It's natural to
want... You know?

I mean, losing your
dad, and I'm older...

I know I'm sexy.

It's just been really hard
without him, you know?

Oh, hell.

There you go.

Jenny, I don't think we
should be doing this.

It's really not a good idea.

I'm sorry.

Breathe into the pain, Jenny.

Breathe into the pain.

Jesus!

Fucking guy.

Coach Tuttle's Rottweilers! Knock it
off! Hey, Amy. Mr. D! How you doing?

- May I have a word, Gary?
- Sure.

I was just informed
you were caught

dry-humping Jenny Tuttle
at the school dance.

Who told you that damn lie?

It was an anonymous phone
call, Gary. Do you deny it?

Of course not!

If you say you got an anonymous
phone call, then I believe you.

No, I mean do you deny dry-humping
Jenny Tuttle at the dance?

God, yes!

- I'm suspending you from the team.
- Because of an anonymous phone call?

Look, Gary, I like you.
You've got cojones.

- Fish?
- No. Balls. Big ones.

But the shit keeps
rolling downhill.

My ex-wife, these budget cuts, and
this damn fall Sports meeting...

But, we just got to win one
out of the next three matches

and we qualify for state.

Then we make Coach
Tuttle's dream a reality.

I just can't be dealing with
a loose cannon now, Gary.

I'm sorry.

Maricar! Inside! Inside!

Damn it, Gary, this is exactly
what I'm talking about!

I thought he was
staying with the Changs.

So did I! His grandpa was on board.
But his dad is not a team player.

Let's go, Amy! Stop
playing with the dogs!

Who got dry-humped, Daddy?

So it's really not a big deal.

Actually, I wanted to focus
more on my custodial duties,

so the timing of this
thing is pretty good.

- Pretty good.
- But why were you suspended, Coach?

Hey, I've got some weekend
hallway buffing to do.

Let's go. Come on.

Come on, let's go.

Well, you guys should probably pair
up and do some volleys or something.

If you have to know, Nibbins, I
got caught in the girls' bathroom

finger-blasting Mike's Spanish teacher
at your oh-so-precious harvest dance!

Is that what you wanted
to hear, Nibbins?

Sorry.

You guys will be
fine without me.

Cappy?

You could've been a champion.

- One, two, three, four,
- One, two, three, four,

- five, six, seven...
- five, six, seven...

Fore!

Move it!

- Sit the fuck down!
- Out of the way, jerk!

Fuck the Huskers! Fuck
football! Fuck all you fuckers!

- You big fucker!
- Not the face! Ear!

Maricar? What are you
doing here? Is Gary here?

Gary? Are you in there?

Gary?

So you're just gonna run away?

I told your dad that I'd
bring home his state title.

Now I've lost my team,

and broken my promise to the only
man who ever gave me a helping hand.

My dad's gone and now
you're leaving me, too.

You're a damn quitter,
Gary, and I hate you.

Awful big forehand.

Hey, if you're always free at this
time, I could sure use an assistant.

I think you'd be a hell
of an asset to this team.

I like them short.

I just wanted one!

One goddamn stick
of winner's jerky.

I'm so sleepy.

Dig deep, Gary.

Come on, Coach.

- It's time to change the mold.
- Fuck me.

It's beautiful, isn't it?

I love you.

Daddy?

It doesn't take a Ph.D. In dreamology
to know what that was all about, Gary.

You got to get back on the team

if they're going to have
a chance at tennis glory.

It's also clear you need Jenny and
Maricar to help make it happen.

I just don't see where...

Wait. Found it!

It feels a lot
worse than it looks.

- So have you talked to Gary lately?
- No. Have you?

I kind of got mad at him yesterday. I
feel bad. He was really down, but...

Well, he hasn't said a word to
me since Coach Pimble took over.

- How's it going with Pimble?
- Sucks.

I mean, we were all pumped about
being one win from making state,

and now we're all bummed out about
being one win from making state.

So I saw you dance with
Molly Sharpe the other night.

Is it nice and tight,
or all loose and floppy?

I don't...

Floppy?

You know, I didn't...

Molly and I are
just friends, and...

Your shoe. You should keep it
nice and tight to avoid blisters.

Right.

Nice. Nice call.

Well, I should get
back to practice.

Hey, by the way, you were looking
pretty prime at the dance.

Prime?

So, boys, I know we've had a
couple of really tough losses,

but I don't think you're
hitting the balls hard enough.

So I think we should do some
push-ups, you know? Get stronger.

Coach Houseman said tennis
players should never do push-ups.

Why not?

Is there any chance Coach
Houseman will come back?

I think we should just
focus on the push-ups.

Everybody down.

Maricar, everybody.

Hey. Hey, buddy? Lower to the ground,
there, and you're gonna push up...

God damn it.

Coach P. Should know better
than to make them do push-ups.

The last thing a tennis player needs
are man-tits obstructing his strokes.

I feel better than
I can ever remember.

Coach Tuttle may well be
skin-walking in my body.

Miss Sanchez! I'm
really glad to see you.

- I wanted to ask you for a favor.
- I hear rumor, señor Houseman.

I hear the kids whisper that you
lose your whistle because of me.

They say we play the
sexy fingers at dance.

- Kids!
- Did you say this?

No!

Yes. I'm sorry.

I made up that stupid story as an excuse
for getting suspended from the team.

Well, this very stupid.
It's no nice for me

and my reputation as good
teacher and good coach.

You're definitely
right. I'm really sorry.

And it's interesting that
you're bringing up coaching,

because I wanted to ask you a favor
regarding your volleyball team.

You know Jenny Tuttle, right?

Yes, I know Jenny Tootle. She quit
my volleyball tryout last year.

Would you ask her to try
out for this year's team?

She's had a rough year, and it would
mean a lot to her, and her father.

Okay, señor Houseman.
Maybe I do this.

- But no more stories, okay?
- Done. Thank you.

I like the sexy fingers.

What's happening here?

Jenny.

- Gary?
- Yeah.

- What are you doing in here?
- Replenishing the tampon dispenser.

- Would you like one?
- No, thanks.

On the house.

I'm sorry about last night.
I understand if you hate me.

I don't hate you, Gary. I like
you, that's why I was upset.

That's good to hear, because
I need to ask for a favor.

You said that Mr. Daubert and
your mom are friendly, right?

Yeah.

Do you think you could get your mom
to talk to him about reinstating me?

Yeah, I'll ask her to.

- I'm glad you're no quitter, Gary.
- Me, too.

Yes, I believe her when she says
Gary didn't make a move on her.

But that's not the point,
Phyllis. Gary's a loose cannon.

If he screws up, it's my
cojones on the chopping block.

I know in my heart it's
what Lew would have wanted.

Can you feel it?

Yes, I think I can.

Look, the point is, the tennis
team is obviously causing problems.

So, why don't we just cancel
the rest of their season

and funnel their budget into the
football team's sideline mist system

that we supposedly can't afford?

- Yeah!
- Yeah! I don't like tennis! Or golf.

All right, people, settle
down. Settle down. Look...

Okay, Maricar. Again.

I rob Couch Hoseman.

"I love Coach Houseman!"

I lub Hooch Cooseman.

Do we have any tennis boosters
here who care to make a comment?

Okay. Steve, want to
add something here?

Well, you know, I don't think
we've been doing that badly.

We've actually won
quite a few matches,

and the boys seem to be learning
a lot about sportsmanship.

And as far as Gary's
suspension goes,

well, the boys actually seem to miss him.
I think they looked up to him quite a bit.

He's prone to outbursts, but
his heart is in the right place.

Come to think of it,

I think we made a pretty
damn good coaching duo.

Let's watch the language, Steve.

"I love Coach Houseman."

I rob House Couchman.

- "I..."
- I...

- love...
- love...

- Coach...
- Coach...

- Houseman.
- House-cinnamon.

So I suggest we give them
one final chance to perform

by reinstating
Gary as assistant.

If they fail to
qualify for state,

we'll cut the team and
give the money to football.

- Any objections?
- Why are we still talking about tennis?

Good Lord! Can we
move on to football?

Now, you've scheduled an
away game at Scottsbluff.

Now, that's seven hours away...

I rub Crotch Horseman!

I think we're actually gonna do
it! I think we're gonna make state!

Play it cool, Steve. Making
state's not that big of a deal.

You got to learn to start
setting higher goals.

Yeah! We're going
to state, baby!

Oh, my hammy.

Jesus, Nibby! I set
you up perfectly!

Why the hell didn't you
accept a groin-muscle rub

from a sexy girl
like Jenny Tuttle?

I don't know. I just didn't.

Were those jocks right?

- Are you some kind of fag?
- No.

Hey, if you are, you are.
It's not the end of the world.

But you're in the ninth grade.

You've got plenty of time
in the future for gay sex.

If you want to come out of the closet,
great. If not, that's fine, too.

Play it cool, man.
Just do your own thing.

When you get to college,
then have your cock-fest.

But I don't think that I'm gay.

Hell, you can still have sex
while you're in high school.

Just spin her over and pretend
you're pumping some dude.

- But I...
- Come on. We're on.

- Go, Cherokees, go! Go, Cherokees, go!
- Go, Cherokees, go! Go, Cherokees, go!

And this makes
five years in a row

that our football warriors
have qualified for state.

What's up?

Let's give them one
more Cherokee cheer!

I almost forgot. Our tennis team
qualified for state as well,

so let's give them a round
of applause, shall we?

I'll take it from here.

Allow me to introduce to you

public enemy number one,

Southpoint High's Tommy Tremble.

And now meet the team
who's gonna take him down.

Your Cherokee Tennis
starting lineup!

And let's not forget the
man behind the scenes,

Coach Steve "The
Bunsen Burner" Pimble.

And I'm Coach Gary Houseman, the
guy who's guaranteeing everyone here

that you've just been introduced to the
next Nebraska state tennis champions!

And tomorrow I expect
each and every one of you

to call in sick and
come support our squad!

Bitch!

The pep rally was a total
success. Total success.

My only concern is
where Mike's head is at.

Is he ready to win?

Ready to be a
champion? Be a man?

Maybe Coach P. And I should
have a word with him.

Coach, I don't think we should
be giving alcohol to a minor.

- Why not? You an informer?
- No! No way!

Actually, I probably shouldn't be
drinking a beer the night before state.

You two need to fucking
relax. It's just a beer.

This is exactly why I
called you here, Cappy.

- To drink a beer?
- To be a man.

- By drinking a beer?
- Yes, by drinking a fucking beer!

By understanding that you're
not going to be intimidated

by that little piece
of shit Tommy Tremble.

Well, I don't think
I've been intimidated.

Well, you haven't beaten
him yet, have you?

He's just a kid.
And you're a man.

And that's why you gotta drink a fucking
beer. Because you are a fucking man.

Hey, Gary, I thought you said it was
going to be just us three here tonight.

- We got to hide this stuff.
- It's all good, Coach.

Hi.

- Hello, boys. I'm Steffi Nash.
- No, it's "Graf"!

Whatever.

You gotta take that thing off. We
got ourselves a first-timer here.

Okay.

Tunes.

No, this is who you
need to focus on.

Okay. Gary, I think I'm
just gonna head out.

No way. Just stay for
one song and a beer.

Don't set a puss
example for Cappy.

We're trying to make a man
of him, for Christ's sake.

Feels awesome, doesn't it?

Yeah.

I'll change the tape.

Hey, Coach? I think
I got to get going.

- We have her for another 20 minutes.
- I'll see you tomorrow.

Proud of you, Cappy!

Why don't you take
those pants off?

I left my comb in my car.

Sweet dreams, Coach.

All right, Steffi Nash. Buckle up
that strap-on and let's get weird.

Okay, sweetie.

Okay! I'm definitely bleeding! Oh,
God, I've got puncture wounds! Gary!

State. It's a two-day
tournament, gentlemen.

You can't win it on the first day,
but you can sure as hell lose it.

We've got to start strong
and finish even stronger.

Okay, when we get out of the van, nobody
goes to the bathroom, nobody talks.

We go straight into
our pattern. Got it?

Let these babies fly
during our pattern.

When you all get out,
leave the doors open.

Let's see if this baby rocks.

Damn it, Coach P!
Get them up! Up!

Attaboy, Coach.

That's what I'm talking about.

Up top, Cappy!

How long before you do
one of my boys' rackets?

Got this one, plus two more
I'm doing for Tommy Tremble,

so I'd say about an hour.

These don't have
any broken strings.

For big tournaments, Tommy likes
fresh strings each morning.

- Fucking prima Donna.
- Mom's kind of hot.

Yes!

Great day today, guys.

Good match, Chongers. I'll
see you at home, Maricar.

Nice job, Paul.

Hey, Cappy, hold up a minute. We
surprised a lot of people today.

But it's day two that counts.

You beat Tommy, and tomorrow we
make Coach T's dream a reality.

Hey, Coach? Why do you
respect Coach Tuttle so much?

I mean, I think he was a
nice guy and everything,

but you seem to
really look up to him.

Cappy, if God didn't exist,

would you invent him?

I'm not sure. Why?

Never mind. Doesn't
matter. God does exist.

And Coach Tuttle really was
a good man. Maybe the best.

You're gonna do great tomorrow.

Coach, will you run them through
warm-ups? I gotta use the head.

Yeah, okay.

Okay, boys. Don't forget
your tennis rackets.

Or your balls. Tennis balls.

- Hey, old timer, how you doing?
- Pretty good.

Good.

Well, looks like you got your hands
full with Tommy's rackets already.

Yeah.

We're warming up next to Southpoint.
If you want, I can drop it off for you.

- Sure. Saves me a trip.
- Good.

Hey, so the guys are outside warming
up. They seem pretty confident.

I got to tell you,
Mike is really...

Hey, are those Tommy's rackets?

I need you to guard the
door for two minutes,

don't let anybody in.

- What's going on?
- Jesus, Steve! Listen!

- Watch the fucking door!
- What are you doing with those rackets?

Forget about the
fucking rackets,

and for once this season, step up and
make a tangible fucking contribution!

Can you do that?

Tangible contribution?

Gary, what's happening here?

Brian saw you in the locker
room shaving my strings, Gary!

You're a fucking cheater, man!

I didn't shave your strings!

Okay, so I shaved a few strings.

- Fucking cheater, man!
- Fucking cheater, man!

- The hell were you doing in there, man?
- Nothing.

- But Tommy's rackets...
- Hey.

Relax. I didn't do
anything to the rackets.

I just needed to clear my head.

I couldn't find Tommy anywhere.

Yeah, I figured. He was in
here looking for his rackets.

You must have just missed him.

Well, I'll just leave his sticks
here, then. Sorry about that.

Nice young man.

I can't believe Nibby and Jones.
They didn't shy away once!

Okay. Get your mind off of señorita
Tight-ass and stay focused.

- I am focused.
- Good.

- I bet she's got puffy nipples.
- What's that?

- Nothing.
- Coach?

- Do you think I can win?
- Of course I do.

No, I mean do you really think
it? It's just... I don't know.

Look at me, Cappy.

Don't you fucking worry
about what I think,

or your dad thinks, or Tommy
little-peckerwood Tremble thinks.

Worry about how deep
you're gonna dig.

Worry about not leaving
that goddamn court

until you've donated a
pint of AB fucking Negative

to the green fucking
pavement out there!

Whether you can win or not.

Worry about that when it's over.

- Got it?
- Yeah. Thanks, Coach.

He's never gonna win.

Gentlemen. Two
out of three sets.

If you split the first two, you'll receive
a 15-minute break before the final set.

This match will determine which
team takes home the state title.

- Any questions?
- No.

Okay. Begin!

Let's go, Tommy!

Settle down.

Take it to him, Mike!

Deuce.

- Sweet!
- Yeah!

- Out!
- What? It was on the line!

The call stands. Too close to
overrule. Advantage Tremble.

Jesus Christ!

Whose dick do we have to suck to
get some fucking calls around here?

That's a warning, Coach. Next rule
violation will be a point penalty.

Easy, big fellow. Easy.

Quiet down, please.
Quiet, please. Thank you.

That's it, Cappy! No free points!
Not today! No free points!

Game Tremble.

The score for first set tie-breaker
is now five serving five.

Shit! What the fuck?

Have some respect
for the game, please!

Warning, Southpoint. Next
violation will be a point penalty.

Cappy!

Stand inside the service
box for the return.

His serve will hit my feet!
No way. It's set point.

Am I the fucking coach of
this team or not? Do it!

Go for it, Tommy!

Five serving six.
Set point, West.

Out!

Damn it, Tommy! Don't
kill it! Just get it in!

Second service.

Yes!

First set goes to Lincoln West.

Game Tremble. Southpoint
leads four games to one.

Come on, keep that
leg loose, Cappy!

Set point, Southpoint.

Second set goes to Tremble.

Players, you've got 15
minutes before the final set.

Hey!

What the hell
happened out there?

- His leg's cramping.
- Looks more like menstrual cramps!

Let's stay positive!

Mike's gonna get this
bastard in the third.

You actually think
he can beat Tommy

after shitting all over the
court the whole second set?

Nobody's shitting
on anybody's courts!

I don't know what match
you were watching,

- but from where I was standing, it sure...
- Hey!

I'm about to play the biggest set
of tennis of my whole fucking life.

Is that okay with you, Dad?

Or would you like me to run away
like you do when things get tough?

Pretty impressive
back there, Cappy.

I don't think I could
have said that to my dad.

- Thanks, Coach.
- It's no good. Your legs are burning up.

We've got to get your
core body temp down.

- Take your clothes off.
- What?

Come on! Hurry! We only have a few
minutes. You need a cold shower.

- No, no, I don't...
- No time to argue.

- Okay! Okay, I'll do it.
- Hurry!

You get back out there, you get to
the net every point. Chip and charge.

You don't have the legs
to work the baseline.

- Okay.
- Constant pressure.

Come in tight and cut off his
angles. Make him play our game.

Show him how the big
boys play hardball.

Okay.

Cappy, you pull this off,

I'll pay Steffi Nash to
let you do her up the poo.

That's enough. We're late.

- Cappy!
- Jesus, Coach!

You can't put those
sweaty clothes back on.

They're weighing you down.

- Wear mine.
- Oh, no. No, no, Coach!

- Please, don't make me do that.
- Don't make it weird, Cappy.

This is state, God damn it! You
need fresh clothes! Put them on!

- Those aren't fresh!
- They're fine! Let's go!

Put them on.

Oh, God.

Game, West.

Game, Southpoint.

Shit! Jenny, we need a trainer!

- How long for an injury time-out?
- Three minutes.

If your player cannot
continue, it's a default.

- Is he still locked up?
- Yeah, he is.

Shit!

God damn it! We got
a man down out there

and you guys are just sitting
around tossing each other's salads?

- What should we do?
- Well, Jesus H., Chang!

You're so ever-loving
smart, figure it out!

Grow a pair and do something!

Come here, come here. Come here.

Damn it, Cappy. This
is it. Get up, man!

- Come on, Mike!
- You can do it, Mike!

- Let's go, Son!
- You can do it, Bro!

Mike! Mike!

Mike, you bitch! Get up and rip
this motherfucker's butt open!

And make him lick his own shit
off your huge fucking cock!

She really misses her mother.

It's time to Cherokee
it up, God damn it.

Come on, Mike.

Jesus, man! Put that thing
in its holster! Concentrate!

Sorry, Coach. She's
got great hands.

Time. Resume play.

It's almost over.
You got him, buddy.

Find me, Mike.

I'm in the now.

Be here. Lose your flow.

Thirty all. Quiet,
please. Quiet.

Thirty serving 40.

Cappy!

Not like that. Not on
match point. Back it up.

Out.

Second service.
Match point, West.

Get there, bitch.

Game, set, match, West High!

Holy shit!

Yeah!

He did it!

- Nice match. Way to dig deep.
- Thanks, Tommy.

Mike did it!

We're the winning team!
I'm part of a winning team!

Hey! High five me.

Hey, Coach.

- Why the long face, Gary?
- I don't know.

I've just been so focused on
turning these boys into champions.

Now that I have, where
do I go from here?

I can't tell you
where to go, Gary.

But I can tell you one thing. Those
boys will never forget this day.

Days of youth fondly remembered,

those are worth something.

Those are worth a hell of a lot.

- You're a good coach, Gary.
- Really?

Maybe the best.

We rub Crotch Horseman!

No! No, Maricar! No!
The lid! The lid!

Life is just so crazy, Gary.

You came to Nebraska to
get away from tennis.

Yet here you are, basking in the
greatness of tennis triumphs.

You big beautiful old lug.

Mrs. Tuttle was so
lucky to have you.

Gary, never forget what
Coach T. Taught you:

That life is short, and
you need to find balance.

Tennis, while it is the sport of kings,
can never take the place of a good queen.

- Are you ready?
- Miss Sanchez!

Gary, after you marry Norma Sanchez,
you should get a teaching degree.

I bet you'd turn some dead-end
dipshit into a future president.

Damn, it's fucking
bright out here!

I love you guys.

♪ Could it be I'm
alive after all that?

♪ Picking pennies off the
floor with my cold, cold hands

♪ Look at me, no hands,
ain't it cool, yeah?

♪ Look at her falling
out of a taxi cab

♪ If you really want
some understanding

♪ You will learn it can
be quite frustrating

♪ If you really want
to understand it

♪ You will learn it
can be quite demanding

♪ You and me trying
hard to remember

♪ How we ever started out
with our sights so high

♪ Looking down, seeing
your yellow fingers

♪ And if you don't understand
then at least that's why

♪ If you really want
some understanding

♪ You will learn it can
be quite frustrating

♪ If you really want
to understand it

♪ You will learn it
can be quite demanding

♪ Could it be I'm
alive after all that?

♪ Picking pennies off the
floor with my cold hands

♪ Look at me, no hands,
ain't it cool, yeah?

♪ Look at her falling
out of a taxi cab

♪ If you really want
some understanding

♪ You will learn it can
be quite frustrating

♪ If you really want
to understand it

♪ You should talk to
Mr. Understanding ♪