Most scenes together: Roy McAvoy & Dr. Molly Griswold (21), Roy McAvoy & Romeo Posar (16), Roy McAvoy & Simms (3)
Mr. McAvoy, I can appreciate that you have a fairly laid-back lifestyle, but I have hours to keep.
All right. A former paramour once ascribed my fluid sense of time to being born under the sign of Pisces. Something about floating through the universe.
Oh, you amuse me, Roy. But I'm the only woman born after World War II who thinks astrology's bullshit.
Roy, Roy... why are you here?
Therapy.
You've come for therapy? Okay, look, Roy, you know, you really need to make an appointment. Because I have a client in a half an hour.
That's enough time. Thirty minutes? Hell, I'm not THAT **** up.
That was incredible! That was the shot of the tournament!
I just gave away the U.S. Open.
It doesn't matter.
One time in my life I know the safe play to hit and I still...Shit, I still can't make myself do it.
It doesn't matter.
My whole career, my whole life on the line...I just made a 12 on the last hole of the Open!
You sure did. It was the greatest 12 of all time. No one's going to remember the Open 10 years from now, who won...but they'll remember your 12! My, God, Roy, it was...Well, it's immortal! I am so proud of you!
There's no such thing as semi-platonic.
Well there ought to be.
You've got a beautiful swing.
I'm a beautiful guy.
Look, Roy, I came to apologize, okay?
For what?
You did what I said and I poured cold water over your efforts. I didn't get it. I'm a terrible shrink, probably. Should've stayed in real estate, shit, actually, I should have never left Ohio for that cowboy in Amarillo, but... Have you ever been to Amarillo?
Cowboy?
Yeah. It's not as romantic when you're actually with one, trust me. So, the oil man in Dallas or Houston, I don't know where he was from. Anyway, he looked great. After that, I went to the Gulf and ended up in trailer sales. Then condos in Corpus Christi. The bottom, just, boom, fell right out of the market so I needed a new gig.
A new gig?
Yeah, therapy. I took all the classes. I'm legitimate. Legal. Certified. ****! I'm certifiable. I'm really sorry.
Oh, boy.
1981 Fort Washington Golf Club, Fresno, California- Ring a bell? Final round of the Tour qualifing school? Tried to hit that same impossible cut 3-wood into the wind from a hilly lie- 5 in a row out of bounds. Until you finaly pulled it off and tapped it in for a crowd-pleasing 13... when a 12 would have got you on the Tour. Now that was a defining moment. And the definition was "shit."
Greatness courts failure, Romeo.
You may be right boss, but you know what? Sometimes par is good enough to win.
Now that was a defining moment. And the definition was "shit."
Greatness courts failure, Romeo.
You may be right, but you know what? Sometimes par is good enough to win.
This is the last ball in the bag. This gets wet, we're disqualified.
I can make it across.
Then do it. Quit **** around.
He's crazy.
Oh, God. He's right. You're right, Roy! Just knock it on! Let her rip!
You're losing it.
I have lost it. But so has he. He's crazy.
So are you.
You know what I think? She's got you by the huevos.
Your job is to teach me patience and humility. Don't advise me on love-life. Not all my thinking occurs below the belt. I stand for a few things besides my next romantic interlude.
You'll have no trouble telling her you can't teach her until after the Open.
That'd make an issue out of something that's not an issue. Besides, I'm focused. I am! This is my quest! This is my stand for the guys who've had their fill of soulless robots like David Simms.
Well, He may be a soulless robot, but he's a rich, happy, soulless robot... with a beautiful doctor-lady girlfriend. Besides, how's getting in the Open going to change what she thinks about you?
Well, it'll show her that I'm not who she thinks I am.
But you are who she thinks you are!
You're humble now, homes.
I was hungover.
Maybe that was a coaching mistake.
Yeah, maybe it was. Thanks, amigo.
"Not tonight" means maybe some other night?
No, I didn't mean it that like that.
Maybe consciously you didn't mean it that way, but how about unconsciously? Come on, you're the expert... did you mean it unconsciously?
Roy, unconsciously, I have no idea what I'm talking about.
Well, I feel we're making progress...
Well, I do too. I have no idea what it's progress towards, though. None.
"What Is The Golf Swing," by Roy McAvoy? Well, I tend to think of the golf swing as a poem.
Ooh, he's doing that poetry thing again.
The opening phrase of this poem will always be the grip. The hands unite to form a single unit by the simple overlap of the little finger.
Right.
Lowly and slowly, the clubhead is led back, pulled into position not by the hands, but by the body, which turns away from the target, shifting weight to the right side without shifting balance. Tempo is everything; perfection unobtainable as the body coils down at the top of the swing. Theres a slight hesitation. A little nod to the gods.
A, a nod to the gods?
Yeah, to the gods. That he is fallible. That perfection is unobtainable. And now the weight begins shifting back to the left pulled by the powers inside the earth. It's alive, this swing! A living sculpture and down through contact, always down, striking the ball crisply, with character. A tuning fork goes off in your heart and your balls. Such a pure feeling is the well-struck golf shot. Now the follow through to finish. Always on line. The reverse C of the Golden Bear! The steel workers' power and brawn of Carl Sandburg's Arnold Palmer!
Unnhh, he's doing the Arnold Palmer thing.
End the unfinished symphony of Roy McAvoy.
What's unfinished?
I have a short follow-through. It has an unfinished look.
Why?
Some say it's the easiest way to play in the winds of west Texas...some say it's because I never finished anything in my life. You can decide. But the point is...every finishing position is unique. That's what the golf swing's about. It's about gaining control of your life and...letting go at the same time.
Jeez Louise.
There's only one other acceptable theory about how to hit the ball.
Oh, boy, well, I'm afraid to ask. What's the other theory?
Grip it and rip it.
A lost and desperate soul stands before you. I assume I have the confidentiality of the doctor/client privilege in regard to this outfit?
Of course. What happened?
I got the shanks.
Are you taking penicillin?
There's a glitch in my swing.
That's Romeo's department.
He thinks it's your department. Says it's a head thing.
Any of you shitheads ever get bored? You ever get bored? 'Cause I got a riddle. Takes about 2 ounces of brains to figure it out. Anybody think they got a brain with 2 ounces of brain?
There's a rumor Earl does.
For chrissakes, boys, come on, a little self-confidence from the gallery. This ain't long division.
Fifteen years on the tour an' you're still a ****in' pussy.
Thirteen years on the driving range and you still think this game is about your testosterone count.
