Original subtitles

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Okay, Dooley, let's hear about your science project.

My potato grew eyes.

I hope she likes... "The Rocks of Rainey Street."

It's all I could come up with

on the way to the bus. ( door opens)

PRINCIPAL MOSS: Sorry to interrupt.

Just wanted to remind everyone

to sign up for the "Fun Run" on Saturday.

Have a good time and raise money to buy the school

somethin' nice or essential.

I usually try not to motivate kids this way,

but if all your friends are doin' something,

shouldn't you be doin' it, too?

Nancy invited us

to a progressive dinner this Saturday.

You know, where you eat a different course

at each person's house?

Well, that sounds pointless.

Exactly. So I suggested a progressive breakfast!

This Saturday, it'll be juice at the Gribbles',

eggs at the So up ha no us in phones', and then back here for toast.

Uh, wouldn't it be easier

just to eat it all together someplace?

We eat breakfast like that every day, Hank,

and frankly, it's getting old.

Sorry, Mom.

I can't make it Saturday.

I'm running a SK.

You're what?!

Wait, is "running a 5K" some kind of rap thing?

No, Dad.

It's a bunch of kids running to raise money for the school.

Well, that's great!

When you cross that finish line,

I'll be right there with the video camera.

Even though it brings out certain instincts in you.

Oh... now you're both going?

Fine. I will host the breakfast by myself--

A breakfast that, apparently, will not be videotaped.

It's official.

I need to start wearing suspenders.

Mr. Boomhauer, how would you like to sponsor me

in the Fun Run?

You would be sending a positive message

to the generation of today.

Unless, of course, you want us to start doing drugs.

Got-dang, man. Between ol gettin'

them dang ol' Girl Scout cookies, and the band candy,

don't, never gonna stop, man.

Thank you, Mr. Boomhauer.

Are you interested, Mr. Dauterive?

Interested in what, Bobby?

The stuff I just said.

Tell it to me again.

I like it when people talk to me.

HANK: Bill!

Three dollars per.

Sorry, I'm sponsoring Joseph.

He's not running.

Just the same.

Check out this goodie bag!

Sport gum, squishy ball,

banana-nut protein bar...

(gasps)

A Whattaburger head band!

Well, the real "goodie"

is that you raised $121 for your school, Bobby.

You even got Joe Jack to pledge

and he doesn't even pay his alimony.

OFFICIAL: Let's have all the kids

at the Fun Run starting line!

Better line up now, son.

I'll wait for you at the finish line.

OFFICIAL: Kids on your mark...

get set... go!

( Panting )

Hey, Hank.

You believe the things I do for this school?

{ cell phone ringing )

Hank Hill.

BOBBY: Hi, Dad.

Can you pick me up?

I'm at the Mocha Bean.

The Mocha Bean?

Right by the starting line?

So you just quit.

You didn't even make it one K?

It's a "Fun Run," Dad.

I ran until it stopped being fun.

Happened quick.

What about all the people who sponsored you?

Okay, how's this-- why don't you shoot some video

of me running across the finish line?

I'll just put my face over my latte

so I'll work up a sweat.

( Sighs)

What has the MTV done to you, son?

Wow, there sure was a lot of toast left over.

That is what happens when people decide

to stuff themselves on juice.

HANK: Bobby,

this is a pedometer.

It measures how far you walk.

By the end of today,

I want five kilometers on there...

that's 3.1 miles.

You know what I'd really love to do?

Learn how to fix a car.

Get moving.

( Sighs)

Feeling it in your calves now?

That's ten isotonic massaging plates

working at 3,000 pulses a minute.

Yeah...

HANK: You were gone all afternoon

and you only walked a half a mile?

Maybe when it gets to 100 miles, it flips over.

Get in the truck.

Only two and a half miles to go!

Ugh...

I'm chafing!

Great effort, runner!

Sorry, Coach, I'll get him out of your way.

My son's a few hundred yards

into being taught an important lesson.

We'll finish up at the reservoir.

COACH: I like the way you were gutting it out out there.

That's just the kind of guy I want on my team.

How'd you like to join track?

On the team?

Uh, Coach, this is the first time you're seeing him.

You might be getting the wrong idea.

Yeah, I hurt my knee putting my sneakers on.

As long as you listen and are willing to be taught,

you'll always have a place in my system.

You hear that, Bobby?

You're gonna be part of a system!

Look at those guys.

They're gonna expect me to run and compete and finish!

I'm just gonna bring the whole team down!

Bobby, the thing about middle school athletes is

they don't care if you win.

They only care that you tried.

( Sighs)

I'm gonna try.

Hey, Booby Hill, what are you doing here?

The lunch room's that way!

Good one.

Heh-heh...

Well... looks like I'm your new teammate.

What? Huh?

If you mess up, we'll mess you up.

Track spikes are sharp...

and we're not afraid to use them.

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I know how you can get kicked off the team.

Take a javelin and throw it into the crowd!

I mean, it would do something.

( Sighs) I better get down there.

There are ten hurdles in the race,

but the highest one

is right here.

Remember that.

Hey, Hill, grab that shot put!

Let's see what you've got.

( Grunting )

{( laughing )

( Mutters )

You sure you don't want to cut me?

Hill, track is like a picture puzzle.

Sometimes the weird-looking piece is the one you need.

Yep. Bobby's gonna be wearing sweatpants

for the right reason.

Still, I must say,

track and field doesn't really seem like a full sport.

It's more like leftover scraps from other sports.

Hey, Bobby, how was your first day of practice?

I'm really tired, and I think all the guys hate me.

They're just giving you the business, Bobby.

In football, we used to make the new kids

breathe through Bill's sock.

I was happy to contribute.

And, oh, yeah,

Boomhauer used to do this hilarious bit

where he told me my mother died.

{( laughing )

Took the sting out of it when she actually did.

So the guys don't really hate me?

That's right. Just hang in there,

keep listening to your coach, and do your best.

You'll see. It'll pay off.

Okay.

Is there any lesson sports can't teach?

If you want, I'll think of you when I'm throwing.

Wassanasong, you're throwing next. Why aren't you warming up?

Why get warm when I'm already hot?

{( laughs )

You're a 30-foot shot-putter

with a ten-foot mindset.

You're out. Hill!

What?! Coach, it was a joke!

A funny joke!

Grab the shot put. You're throwing next.

What? But you saw me throw!

Landry, next thrower.

It's easy, Hill.

Visualize the action,

then actualize the vision.

Okay.

Watch closely, Wassanasong.

This isn't Hill's throw.

It's your throw.

All right, Hill!

You blew it for us, Chane.

Maybe your girlfriend wants to see me kick your ass.

...99... and a hundred.

Okay, girl.

Dad, we won!

And I competed!

I actually shot the put.

Or did I put the shot?

Either way, I threw it.

Well, what did I tell you?

You showed the coach you had heart,

and he gave you a chance.

I must have had more heart than Chane Wassanasong,

'cause he sat on the bench.

You competed while another guy sat on the bench?

There's a bottle of sport drink

in the garage I've been saving.

Let's open it.

Hey, Chane, if this were an egg,

it'd take some kind of crazy bird to lay it!

I'm trying to hyper-focus, okay?

You're eating sugar right before the hundred?!

Hill, sweats off!

( Gunshot)

(gasps)

( Panting )

The finish line is inside of me.

Now you've tasted chocolate and failure.

Which is more bitter?

Um... I like chocolate more than failure.

So that means I should eat more chocolate?

I... I don't understand.

Understand this, gentlemen.

Anytime, anywhere, if I think someone's dogging it,

he'll be "Bobby Hilled."

Winning is the carrot, and Bobby is the stick.

Whew!

I had to stop.

They were putting up hurdles for the next race.

Hill, you're going to take this team

to the District Finals.

Boy, I sure wish

I could have gone to Bobby's meet today.

Why do I always have

to be Mr. Strickland's character witness?

Well, I think it's an honor.

Mom, Dad, we won!

I need some ice.

My hand's sore from all the high-fiving.

Great! Did the coach let you throw the shot put again?

Nah. I was busy doing the 440.

You ran the 4407

Coach said I'm a secret weapon he can deploy anywhere.

Oh, and guess what?

I've got a nickname.

The guys call me "The Stick."

Sure. That's because you stuck it out.

Yeah. I'm actually starting to have fun.

That's right.

See, I don't punish you to make you miserable.

I punish you to make you happy.

I'm gettin' it!

PEGGY: Jump long, long jumpers!

Get some altitude,

pole-vaulters!

Boy, this sport

does not lend itself to good cheers.

Hank, we have a situation.

HANK: Bobby's doing the high hurdles?!

Sometimes it takes him two tries

just to get on the couch. ( gunshot)

Oh, I can't watch.

Oh, the humanity.

I wasn't brought up to second-guess a coach,

but this makes no sense at all.

I'm gonna find out what's going on.

You think Bobby's bad?

Imagine if we had a child.

{( laughing )

{( laughing )

I'd love him anyway.

You're halfway home, Hill!

Still think curfew is "bogus"?

Excuse me, Coach Palmer?

Don't worry, Mr. Hill.

I've got Bobby working on falling on his hands.

You know, I'm not one of those dads

who gets mad if the coach doesn't play my son.

Matter of fact, Bobby shouldn't be anywhere near a hurdle.

He's embarrassing himself.

No, he's embarrassing the guy he's replacing.

You're using Bobby to shame the good athletes?

Since I started using Bobby as the Stick,

the team's been on fire.

We haven't lost a meet.

Huh. Well, that sounds good,

but it's making me feel kind of sick.

All'I know is, Bobby's teammates

are setting personal bests,

and we're headed for the District Finals.

Excuse me. I just saw my pole vaulter

light a cigarette.

Hill, forget the hurdles! Pole vault!

I'm on it.

How was that?

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Well, I guess it's nice that the coach

calls Bobby his "go-to guy," but...

feels like one of those fairy tales

where the genie gives you a wish,

but you ask for it in slightly the wrong way

and you end up with a solid gold head or something.

The correct strategy with genies

is to wish for more wishes.

It just seems wrong.

Nothing's expected of him.

Bobby never did pole vault.

He just limbo'd under the bar.

( Sighs)

In a way, life was simpler

when Bobby was making collages out of People magazine.

( TV playing )

Hey, Dad. I'm carbo-loading.

Yeah, uh...

Here's the thing.

Bobby, do you understand

why the coach is playing you so much?

'Course I do, Dad.

My input delta yields, you know, a tangent

to a winning hypotenuse or something.

Well, it's mostly

because you're really bad.

The other guys try harder

so they aren't humiliated by being replaced by you.

I knew I was contributing.

I just wasn't sure how.

I'm a motivator!

I'm like a big Rally Monkey.

Bobby, you don't motivate anyone by being lousy.

You motivate 'em by giving a heartbreaking speech

or dying or something.

You know, I'm thinking you should quit this team.

Quit the team I brought to the finals?

No way!

Oh, by the way, tomorrow night's the letter ceremony.

I need $90 for the jacket.

$907!

I went for the leather sleeves.

COACH: Jeff Clifford...

Hank, I bet this reminds you of when you got your letter.

Oh sure. Only I led the league in rushing

and sacrificed all the cartilage in my knees.

Other than that, deja vu.

Gary Anderson.

Dad, I know what I want to do with my life--

Be a professional motivator.

I just need to find a field

in which I have no potential.

Hmm...

I'd make a terrible dam builder.

Why don't you just try to be good at something?

Don't try to motivate a motivator, Dad.

And the man who brought us to the District Finals...

Bobby Hill!

Excuse me.

( Chanting ): Stick! Stick! Stick!

What do you think, Coach?

Any sprinters acting lackadaisical?

High jumpers showing enough grit?

Everyone's brought their "A" game, Bobby,

because of you.

The Stick| be taking a nap if you need him.

Well, the meet's almost over.

I wonder if Bobby's gonna humiliate

anyone... besides himself.

There's Bobby. Look, right there.

Oh...

He's curled up in his little letter man's jacket.

He's sleeping?

Damn it, that does it.

Wake up, Bobby.

We're going home.

( Yawns)

But the team needs me.

Is there a problem, Mr. Hill?

Yeah, there is.

A real coach brings out the best in his players.

A jackass puts his worst guy on display like it's a sideshow.

In the future, when every team has a designated "Bobby Hill,"

and I'm in the Track Hall of Fame,

maybe you'll feel differently.

There's a Track Hall of Fame?

The relay is about to start.

We take this, we win the meet.

Coach--

I hyper-extended and I can't run the relay.

You what?!

I stretched too hard.

I saw you talking to the Stick

and I got scared I was gonna get Bobby Hilled.

Landry!

I need a runner or you're disqualified.

Murphy's still long-jumping.

I-I-I don't see Chane...

Landry!

I-I-I don't, I don't have anyone left.

|- never envisioned a no-sub scenario.

You don't have to.

You've got Bobby. You can put him in.

What? What?

This isn't a Stick situation.

Failing would actually hurt us here.

Okay. Okay, I can do this.

Hill, any good paradigm can be inverted.

Imagine another you-- we'll call that

"Bobby Hill sub-negative one..."

Forget about that nonsense, Bobby.

You just have to do two things:

Move this leg, then move that one

and don't quit until the race is over.

You can do it, Bobby.

You can fry.

ANNOUNCER: It's Tom Landry in the lead!

One foot... in front of the other.

( Thudding steps )

I wish Bobby wasn't such a butterfingers.

Bobby! Pretend the baton is the remote!

Ho, yeah!

ANNOUNCER: With one leg to go,

it's Tom Landry's to lose!

Maybe not.

Keep going, Bobby! Don't lay down with them!

( Panting hard )

ANNOUNCER: The Landry runner is the only one still on his feet!

TEAMMATE: Bobby! All right, Bobby!

Yeah, you're the Stick! All right! Yeah!

You did it!

That's how you motivate a team.

Well, Bobby, you lost a huge lead

and it took a bunch of guys falling down, but you did it.

I think I'm gonna throw up.

Go ahead, son. You've earned it.

I'm serious, guys.

You don't want to be under me.

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DALE: Oh, the humanity.

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