Another spectacular performance by George Patrick Owens.
The Scottish Rocket, pushing the ball off the field....
He shoots, he's deflected, he shoots!
Enough with George already!
Score!
Boys!
-Play dead. -Are you okay?
Now, needing no introduction, on the floor in front of me...
weighing a total of 92 pounds...
the wrecking balls of peace and quiet...
the twin tornados of home destruction--
I need help here.
-Dylan, Cole, just get up. -Anybody hurt?
You drive me crazy when you pull these crazy stunts.
You could have split your head open, and just look at Grandma's table.
Mom, get a grip.
It's your cute, adorable twins.
Look at these innocent little puppy-dog faces.
It looks like you got your first shiner. You'll need some ice on that.
I'll get it. You take care of the table.
I see you guys liked watching the game again...
for the 200,000th time.
George Patrick Owens is only the greatest soccer player...
that ever played the game.
The last score he took....
He was 10 feet off the ground. Nobody human can do that.
He might not be human. But unlike Bigfoot, we got him on tape.
Incredible. Thanks again, Dad.
-We're back. -And we bad.
Wait a minute, Termiteinators.
Just 'cause you don't have concussions...
doesn't mean you don't have to clean this mess.
I mean, that table there is a family heirloom belonging to....
-Grandma. -Grandma, of course.
So it's very important to your mom. And to me.
And also to you, if you don't destroy it.
I want you to pick up every kernel of popcorn. I'll get some paper towels.
-One, or both of us, could have been killed. -Knock it off.
Or at least be bloody and have amnesia.
Just get out of here.
Can't you control them? They are chips off of that block of yours.
I had to show them who's boss around the house.
Get real.
We tripped and took a header on the hair loon and wasted the thing.
By the way, what is a hair loon?
Some of Grandma's old leftover furniture that we end up thrashing...
so Dad has to keep gluing it back to keep Mom off his butt.
Hey, Mikey, want to play some soccer?
Can't. Football season's next week.
Dad's got me running laps. See you.
Too bad he's not on the team. He would kick some butt.
His dad wouldn't even let him. He says soccer's for wimps.
You know, besides being a cop, he was a bigtime football star.
But he blew out his knee, and he's been mad at the world ever since.
Copy that.
So, what are you candy-pants doing in our park?
-We're practicing. -What for? The Nutcracker?
We're practicing 'cause we're gonna kick everybody's butts this year.
Especially your team.
Coach says you run so slow, you couldn't catch a baby with a load in his pants.
Oh, yeah? I guarantee I could even kick your coach's butt.
You know what? You got pretty big mouths for such little people.
You eat with those mouths, or use them to get your butts kicked?
-And who might you be? -This is my cousin Jason, from Charlotte.
He taught me to play. He plays for the Yellow Jackets.
We've been state champs forever. Nobody's ever beaten us.
I can't even remember the last time somebody scored on us.
Never heard of no Yellow Jackasses.
They're the ones who broke that kid's leg in that game over in Chestnut...
and the doctors had to--
I bet we can take it all, and even beat you fart-face Yellow Jackets.
I bet you.
Yeah? What's the bet? I'll call my bookie in Vegas.
If you dorks don't win the championship--
If we don't take it all, I'll moon everybody in homeroom.
-I mean, we will. -What?
Better yet, there are three teams here.
The team that wins the championship is clean.
The other teams have to moon the bleachers after the game.
Hold up, half-a-man.
If either of us wins the championship, you have to moon the crowd.
If you win, then both our teams will do it.
That way, we can see the two of you wear your mama's sexy underwear.
Better than the skidmark undies you wear.
Shut up, butt faces. You won't even make it to the semifinals.
You might as well sit your mama's butt on the side of a bus. It's on?
Did I stutter?
Okay. You got yourself a bet. And we got ourselves a ball.
You really did it this time, Dyl.
Give the ball back.
-What did you say? -I said, give it back.
-It's okay. It's just a ball. -It's not just a ball.
Our dad got it for us in Europe.
It's a game ball from the World Cup match.
George Patrick Owens kicked this ball right before he disappeared.
Gee, little buddy, it's probably worth something then.
We should probably return it.
-Hey, Mikey. What's up? -Hey, Russ.
And remember, you've got to drop them.
-Only a coward welshes on a bet, right? -Right.
Good thing you showed up, Mikey.
Those guys were really starting to piss us off.
But even if they kicked our butts...
I guarantee we would've done some serious damage.
And we wouldn't want that to happen now, would we?
-Michael, what did we agree to do today? -To run my laps.
That's right, son, run laps! That does not mean stopping and talking.
Talking does not score touchdowns.
I want to see some hustle out there, young man.
Move it! Hustle!
My shirt. That creepy guy greased me.
Man, think of the germs!
That's an old shirt. When did you start worrying about germs?
I know. I saw you eat that doughnut off the ground the other day.
-The five-second rule. -What?
If you pick it up within five seconds, it's good to go.
Okay, that's totally disgusting.
Suit yourself, honey.
I'll get it.
Guys, I have some bad news.
Dad has to go out of town for a few days.
Listen. Remember, you work for me, okay?
You were still decorating your diapers when I won my first Purple Heart.
I know you love that story, but it's true.
Listen, I feel bad because I have to leave the kids.
I'm sure they will be proud of me.
It doesn't matter right now. How soon?
You got to be kidding me.
He feels really bad, but he'll miss your first couple of soccer practices.
-No way! -Not now!
Right, I understand. I'll see you soon.
-So, what's the deal, Presscott? -I've got to go to D.C. It's an emergency.
Yeah, but what about the team? You're our coach, man.
What are we supposed to do?
I'm sorry, but somebody needs my help really bad.
But we had a deal.
This is the last time it's ever gonna happen. I'm up for reassignment.
But you can't go! You're our coach...
and practice starts on Monday.
-lt sucks like a tornado. -Don't talk like that.
Listen, guys, it's only for a few days.
Boy, that was quick. That's my cue. I've got to go.
I love you guys, and I promise to make it up to you.
Listen, Mom has a roster with the names and numbers of all the guys...
that can help coach while I'm gone. It's gonna be okay.
-I love you guys, and I'll be back soon. -Bye, honey.
-Come on, guys, give me a hug. -Get in there.
I love you, boys.
He has no idea....
How important this is to us.
Guys, when life--
If you try that line about life, lemons and lemonade...
I'll lose it.
All right. How about I just promise that we'll do the best that we can?
We'll make it work, all right?
What an ugly ending to a beautiful day!
Corner kick.
Boys, we have to hurry.
Are you sure you called everyone on the list?
Did you forget anybody?
Let's see.
Dexter's dad had to work.
Mr. Hunsucker had a furniture convention.
Mr. Pope hurt his back again.
Mr. Wickham has a big law case.
Mr. and Mrs. Foldes have to look at real estate. And Mr. Whaley's fishing.
Everybody else said no.
Look, it's only for a few days.
And I have something for you. It's from New York.
"Dear loved ones...
"l need a break from the Big Apple, and will be coming to visit.
"l need the family love, and I miss my little monkeys.
-"Much love, Aunt Louise." -Aunt Louise is coming back?
-But it doesn't say when. -She never says when.
That's probably why Dad calls her a flake.
All right, guys, let's go. We're gonna be late.
-We're gonna ride our bikes. -See you there.
Wait a minute.
I left the lights on again. God.
Showtime.
Louise!
Sis, I'm so glad to see you. Hop in, we have to go.
-Where we going? -You won't believe it.
Did you drive here all the way from New York?
-Yes. -God, I missed you.
I'm so glad you're here. It's nuts.
So now I'm the coach until Presscott gets home.
Any cute single dads?
I'm scared to death, but the kids need me to take over.
My babies are riding their bicycles to their first practice...
because their goofy mom's been forced into coaching...
and they're too embarrassed to arrive in the same van as me.
Can I have your attention?
May I have your attention, please? Thank you.
I'm your coach, Mandy Martin.
I thought our coach was a Mr. Martin.
You're not a mister.
Yeah, misters don't have boobs.
My husband is your coach.
But he had to go away on business for a few days.
So I'm going to fill in until he returns.
-And who is she? -She's my little sister.
Nothing little about her.
If she's little, I'm a T-Rex.
You best mind your manners, young man.
-What does she do? -Let's just say she's my assistant.
We can't have a bunch of women telling us what to do.
We'll be laughed off the field.
For your information...
I just flew from overseas, where I was training Olympic athletes...
in motion and dance technique.
I thought I'd teach you a few training tricks, but everyone has such a snotty attitude.
I'll just take my big-hearted talents somewhere where I'm more appreciated.
But before I leave, I just wanted to say hi to my nephews...
Dylan and Cole.
Okay, guys.
That's it for today. Any questions?
I'll assume that's a rhetorical question...
and if anybody speaks flatulence, and would like to translate--
When are we gonna get to play soccer?
A question I can answer.
Please pick up your game schedule from Louise as you leave.
Don't forget to memorize the A.Y.S.O.'s six pillars of character.
Trustworthiness. Respect.
Responsibility.
Caring.
Fairness.
Citizenship.
Don't forget, do your homework...
eat your vegetables, get plenty of sleep, brush your teeth.
And please make sure your parents read the Kid Zone guidelines...
on the back of the schedule, before they tape it to the refrigerator.
And remember...
when you are out there playing soccer, that field is yours.
It's your time, okay?
See you next time. Pick up a schedule.
-Excuse me. -Give me one.
I just wish Presscott hadn't left.
Yeah, on-the-job training blows.
Jeez, Louise!
I'm trying to not let the boys talk like that.
Okay, sorry, Grandma.
Should I go wash my mouth out with soap?
I'm sorry.
I guess I'm just an overprotective mother who wants to keep an eye on her boys.
I'm not a coach.
I'm a case study.
Who the heck is that?
I don't know. He helped me start the van this morning.
I'm gonna ask Presscott about him.
Creepy.
I'll get it. It's probably Dad.
-Hey, Mikey. -Hey, Miss Louise. You're back.
-Hey, Mrs. Martin. -Hey, Mikey. Where have you been hiding?
Football season. They're working me pretty hard this year.
I thought that was my dad. I better get home.
-His dad drives him way too hard. -Yeah, his dad is a jerk.
No, he's just not a very happy guy.
It was Dad all right.
He's not gonna make it before our first game.
Yeah, he skunked us.
Okay, guys, you've worked your butts off these last two weeks.
Today's payback time.
How about a round of applause for Louise, for helping whip this team into shape.
All right! Let's show them what we got. Come on, go!
No, the other way! Our goal is down there.
Kick it!
Go, kick it.
The other way. Our goal is on this end. Go!
He tripped him! No. Help him up.
-What time is it? -Why?
I want to go home to watch TV.
Get out there and play ball!
Hey, ref, how much time is left in this game?
Just one minute, cutie. I mean, Coach.
See you here on Monday. We play the Roosters.
-I hear they're pushovers. -Cut the crap, Coach.
They beat the Pirates by 10 points, and the Dynamos by 12.
We've had it.
Thanks for that inspiring pep talk, Sal.
See you here Monday.
I'm the worst thing that ever happened to soccer.
It's the world's fastest-growing youth sport, and I've set it all back 25 years.
Don't be mad at yourself, Mom.
It's not really you. The whole team stinks.
You never claimed to be a soccer coach.
-We need Dad. -I know.
Don't be mad at him, please.
I'm sure he's trying to finish up his work and get home to you.
Look, messages. Maybe one of them's him.
Hey, I know nobody's there, but listen...
I had to leave the country for a while on business.
I know I broke my promise, but I won't do it again.
I know soccer's going great, and you guys are kicking butt.
I love you all, and I'll be there soon. I'm very sorry.
You're always being told not to trust strangers...
and we can't even trust our own dad.
-We're gonna clean out the van. -Stay here. I'll handle this one.
Mrs. Martin, this is Sterling's mother.
I wanted to let you know that Sterling won't be playing on the team anymore.
Thank you.
I don't know what kind of team you're running...
but you don't sound like the real thing to me.
Sal ain't playing for no team run by some den mothers.
If I want him to get his butt whooped...
I'd send him off to join the Marines, like I did.
Hello, this is Eduardo from the team.
I was talking to some of the other guys tonight.
I don't think I want to play anymore.
Thanks. Bye.
And my dad says that when you get a real coach, to call us back.
It'll be okay. I used my Aunt Louise magic.
Then go and use your magic, and tell them that half the team just quit.
I don't blame them. I wouldn't want to play for me, either.
Oh, please. I'll talk to them when they come in.
You go take a hot bath, and I'll bring you some tea.
Thank you.
No way!
They ran right in front of me.
-That man, he saved us! -Who?
Okay, let's get you guys inside.
They're fine. I think they're just a little shaken.
-All right. -Thank you.
-We got to find this guy tomorrow. -Man, we're gonna find him.
Is he over there?
What if he's on the left side?
He's on the right side. Bet you.
Did you see that?
-Hello under there. -Leave me alone.
-Can we help you with anything? -No. Go away.
-Thanks for saving our butts. -Yeah, we would have been road pizzas.
You thanked me. Now go away.
I just want to talk about those incredible moves.
They were awesome. I've never seen anybody kick like that.
-You didn't see no kicks. -Yes, we did.
-You did not. -Did, too.
No kicks.
We didn't see any kicks, but whatever you did was really cool.
I tripped and fell down. It was an accident.
-I wish I could have accidents like that. -We told all our friends.
-Why did you tell everybody? -Because we love soccer.
We didn't start off loving soccer at first. We wanted to play basketball.
We're just too short. And baseball....
See these glasses? I'm blind as a bat.
Once I swung at a hotdog wrapper that blew away.
But the truth of the matter is we stunk at it all.
-Hitting, catching-- -And football.
We weigh about 50 pounds each.
We could hang-glide in a tortilla chip.
But since we were kids, we wanted to be like Dad.
He played everything in high school and college.
And was good at it all.
He even used to fly jet planes for the Navy.
We would never get too close to a Navy jet, but soccer....
We did make the soccer team.
We're gonna fill up our shelves with trophies, just like Dad.
What do you expect me to do about it?
Coming!
Hi, guys. I'm sorry about the team. We tried.
That's life, Mrs. Martin. Are the terrible two at home?
No. I thought they were off with you. They didn't show at the arcade?
Mrs. Martin, are they all right in the head?
I know they were really upset about the team.
Why? Do you think something's wrong?
I think they've completely lost it. All they talked about in school today...
was this soccer dude who materialized out of nowhere...
kicked a million balls into the van, saved their lives...
and then disappeared.
What's that expression that your mother uses?
Esta loca.
So that's how my mom got sucked in.
If my dad were here, he'd have a solution.
-But he went out of the country. -Out of the country?
And to top it off, we got phone messages from the guys.
Everybody bailed. Now we don't even have a team.
-No team? -That's it.
So we had to forfeit to the Roosters this week.
'Cause we didn't have enough players.
-By the way, I'm Dylan. -And I'm Cole.
-Dylan. -And Cole Martin.
Hi, I'm Rudy.
Since we need a coach--
And since you're gonna be here for a while--
-No. -Why not?
Y'all don't understand.
We understand. You're just too busy being Mr. Greaseball Adult Guy...
to come spend some time out with these poor little kids...
-who have a mother for a coach. -We wouldn't want anybody...
who can do a bicycle kick four feet off the ground.
We're just happy with Mom, whose main concern is wiping our noses.
-Thanks a lot, mister-- -Wait.
All right.
-What's the one thing you want to learn? -I want to learn how to fake people out.
I can't head the ball.
All right. Let's go, little partners.
All right, little fella, I want you over here.
Sonny boy, get over there.
All right, bend your knees. On the balls of your feet.
Move your head like this, like you're a chicken.
You're a chicken. You're a funky chicken. You ready?
This ain't volleyball. It's soccer. Let's try you, all right?
That's right, you're a chicken.
There you go. Imitate your brother.
You ready? That's right.
We'll work on passing now.
Where are they? It's getting late.
-I talked to Mikey's dad, the cop. -Not in that outfit, I hope.
He hasn't seen them, and said you should keep a better eye on them.
Spare me.
We know how sensitive and compassionate he can be.
Sorry we're late, Mom.
Dylan and Cole Martin, you can't just disappear like that.
Where have you been?
We found the best soccer player in the world...
and he's only four doors down, living in Dr. Peter's garage.
-You should see him! -Dr. Peter's garage?
What I want to see right now is the two of you in the bathtub.
-No, not that! -Please.
And after you're cleaned up, I want to see you buried in your homework.
You know how much we love homework.
Then could we clean our room?
And then we can iron the sheets, too.
-And then wash the car. -And then paint the walls.
-And then dust the floors. -How about shining the silver?
-And then scrub the tables. -And then alphabetize the books.
Now, you know what to do.
We take this basket over to Mrs. Hubbard's house...
even though she calls us out-of-control little hoodlums.
We tell her not to get up, and she wouldn't...
because she's a hypochondriac and a sourpuss anyway.
You didn't hear that in this house.
We shove the meatloaf into the refrigerator, although it's already full.
We put the other dish into the oven, but we don't turn it on.
We leave the brownies on the counter...
and be sure to ask her about her swollen ankles...
her blood pressure, and her burglar alarm.
I am so proud of you boys.
-We're ready to rock and roll! -What?
-You must be getting old. -Yeah, Rudy.
You're losing your memory. That's sad.
-Why do you like to bug people so much? -Because we're good at it.
Yes, you are.
That was better. A whole lot better.
Really? No bull?
No, but it's getting late.
You stay out too long, it's gonna worry your mama.
She doesn't care.
Actually, she's very thankful.
She sent you some of her home cooking as a thank-you present.
It's been a while since I've had home cooking.
Nothing like a home-cooked meal.
So, you really knew George Patrick Owens?
The real Scottish Rocket?
-No way, Jos�! -Way.
He's the best soccer player ever.
I always thought he was a bit overrated and kind of strange.
Good-looking guy, though.
The ladies loved him.
If I tell you something, you promise not to tell anybody?
We promise.
You mustn't tell anybody.
He's in danger, and was forced to disappear.
Why was he forced to disappear?
Some criminals tried to make him play bad...
-so Scotland would lose the cup to ltaly. -Why?
Sometimes people make big-money bets on games.
Heck.
George Patrick, he played the best game of his life.
Beat the tar out of them ltalians.
Some bigtime criminals got pretty upset.
So mad that they tried to kill him.
But Rocket, he could run.
So he hid.
How long does he have to hide?
One day, when the coast is clear...
George Patrick will come back.
But that can take forever.
We got his last game on tape. Our dad got it for us.
That last play he made....
That was the best play he ever made.
Yo, twin pimples, we missed stomping you guys at the game.
You were so scared, you had to forfeit.
We're looking forward to the Thanksgiving game. Aren't you?
I could just see your wimpy little moons rising now.
We're gonna make a comeback. We have a secret weapon.
Wait till you see him in action, dude.
You'll pee in your jeans, turkey!
Haven't you got us into enough trouble?
Yeah, nobody wants to hear about your stupid phantom soccer player.
But, you guys, I swear he's the best.
I just promised not to talk about him.
But I know you guys can keep a secret, right?
He knows George Patrick Owens.
What? You don't believe me?
Dylan, remember the time you guys kept seeing the black bear...
over by the woods, in the golf course?
-lt looked like a bear. -lt was a St. Bernard.
It was big and hairy, and--
Come with me after school, and we'll take you to his house.
No way, he'll freak.
I'll believe anything that would allow me to think...
that I wouldn't have to moon the crowd.
-Come on, you guys, it'll be great. -Dylan, don't do this.
You heard what he said. Man, count me out.
You guys wait here.
Let's go.
No, come on, you guys, let's hang out. I know he'll be back here any minute.
You hang out. I'm out of here.
Yeah, the soccer phantom ought to be here any century now.
-What did you tell them? -Nothing.
Well, just a little of it.
You promised me.
Now you can't be trusted. Leave me alone.
But they wouldn't believe us. I only wanted to help.
-Come on, please. -Go away. Now, get!
Get out!
Boys?
Dylan, I can't believe you did that. He was like our savior.
If you say so, Colester.
What are we gonna do?
No team. No coach. No skill.
And pretty soon, no pants.
So you gentlemen want to learn soccer?
I don't get it. This is the soccer player?
-The phantom? -Yeah. This is Rudy.
Rudy, these are our pals, Eduardo and Sal.
How you doing?
Anybody home?
Hello?
Anybody home?
I'll teach you real good.
That over yonder is a goal.
I want you to dribble and pass the ball.
Wait a minute. That's not a goal.
That's just a couple of trash cans.
Looks like a goal to me.
Now go to it.
Let's play.
Over here! Come on!
What are they doing?
That hurt.
-You play? -I play football.
Kick it.
Why do you call it "football"?
That game, you don't ever hardly even use your feet.
-Over here. Come on, pass. -Oh, man.
I'll show you football.
No, daggummit. Give me the ball.
-Look at that. -This here, this is real football.
-He's good. -Juggling...
trapping, dribbling.
All right, you guys got that? Who wants the ball?
Me!
Okay. Good catch. All right. How you doing?
-I don't know if I could ever do that. -Then you play goalie.
Pass the ball. Good pass. Pass it again.
Go, Eduardo.
To the goal.
-All right. Good save. -Come on. Pass.
Right on center. Good pass.
Wait. You turn around, you're gonna lift the ball.
Keep going, you got one more shot. Shoot.
Good save again. All right, here you go.
All right, y'all whippersnappers, you done good.
I gots to be going.
-See you, guys. -Bye!
See you, Eduardo.
What y'all following me for?
I ain't the Pied Piper.
What the hell is going on here? Greaseball, I'm talking to you.
What the hell's going on?
-I'm teaching them to play football. -Football?
-He means soccer. -Soccer.
That figures. Mikey, in the car.
You better watch your step, weirdo. I'm gonna be keeping my eye on you.
Boys.
Don't mind that jerk, Rudy.
He's just the local blowhard, hiding behind a badge.
I know the type.
We're supposed to be at the Purple Daisy at 6:00.
Where are those boys? I'm starving.
Where have you two been?
I was starting to think you were MlA again.
All right, you. Let go of them. Now.
Louise, it's okay, honey. Really.
Calm down, Aunt Louise.
The biggest crime in this town...
is when the paperboy throws the paper in the birdbath.
This is Rudy...
the mysterious soccer player we've been telling you about.
Sorry, Rudy. Reflex action.
Mom, Rudy. Rudy, Mom. I mean, Mandy.
It's nice to meet you, Rudy.
Boys, what was my empty food basket doing at Rudy's house?
We got sidetracked, okay?
It's a male-bonding type thing.
Ma'am, I've been seeing the happy looks on their faces all day today...
and I was wondering if I could help coach the team.
Really? That's good news, isn't it, Louise?
Yeah.
Okay, the babysitter's gonna be here in five minutes, boys.
Go get cleaned up. She's bringing pizza.
That was a fantastic meal.
Yeah, thanks for encouraging me to have that hot-fudge cake.
God, I should just glue two big slices on either butt cheek.
Did the boys tell you how Rudy ended up living here?
You know what? If all he ever wears are those awful coveralls...
he must have left in a big hurry...
or, unlike me, he's learned to pack really light.
You'd make a great detective.
I'm just so curious.
I mean, Presscott says not to worry, and that we can trust him...
but I don't know, I just can't help it.
Something just doesn't seem right about the whole thing.
I know what you mean.
It looks like he should be holding up a sign that says:
"Will kick soccer balls for food."
I don't know. He seems nice enough.
And he is incredible with the kids.
What's that all about?
Just spending a little quality time together, I guess.
Please. You call punting a million footballs at 9:00 p.m. quality time?
Come on, Mikey. Come on, go!
Poor Mikey.
What are you gonna do when they're rushing you?
Come on now, I want that ball going all the way down the field. Let's go.
Kick it. Kick it harder!
What are you doing? Wasting my time out here?
Look where that ball went. Would you?
Now, come on. Kick! That's it!
I see all the quitters and the deserters decided to come back.
Should have heard me on the phone with the parents.
I should run for public office.
I see the new coach has yet another change of dirty clothes.
Someone still needs to take that man shopping.
Tomorrow. Same time, same place.
Wait.
The boys ain't too good on their feet, the way you are.
I thought maybe you could teach them some movement.
They might not like it...
but I always thought that you'd make a good teacher.
This isn't working.
I can't do it like this.
I'll be right back.
Now that you've all learned to dance...
I want you to imagine you can fly.
You have wings on your feet.
So fly like a bird!
-Fly! -Man, I hope no one saw us.
-We look like the world's biggest geeks. -You got that right, fart blossom.
Hey, wait a minute. That's my title.
You all better recognize, I'm gonna get this if it takes all night.
My brothers Daman and Dejaun always say...
you learn to dance, and the honeys will be jockeying.
All right, yeah!
Nice going, man.
I saw some really good stuff out there today, guys.
Real nice going, Dyl.
I know you're disappointed that we lost...
but if you're happy with how much we improved, give me a big cheer!
And how about a big round of applause for Rudy?
He's mad that we lost. I bet he quit. We're never gonna win.
Come on, now. Save the drama for your mama.
Rudy obviously had to rush off.
He'll see you at practice tomorrow.
Other teams don't have to practice the day after a game.
How bad do you guys want to win?
All right, then. We'll see you here tomorrow. Get outta here.
Dylan, you can stop blaming yourself any minute.
I never get it right!
I always use my hands. It's because of these stupid glasses.
I'm gonna go cut my arms off.
Wait.
After you do your homework.
Think about it. You can talk...
but you can't coach.
He can coach, but he can't talk. It's perfect.
I guess it's okay until Presscott gets home.
You know, if he was here, we wouldn't have to have anybody else.
Don't let me hear another word about that "if Presscott were here" speech.
It's been going on since the beginning of time.
It's not about Presscott. It's about the twins.
I mean, thank God Rudy came along.
He's like the world's weirdest guardian angel.
Where are those little termites?
Rudy, look what we got you.
"And the much-improved Cole Martin...
"kicked the ball into the net...
"as the game clock ticked to a close...
"giving the Terriers yet another victory.
"The Terriers are heating up as we get down to crunch time.
"A dark horse on the rise?
"We shall see."
We're stars. Check to see if they're lining up for our autographs.
Tell them no pictures, Aunt Louise. Hold back the crowds.
That'll be easy.
When I sign my first soccer contract...
I'm gonna get both of you new cars.
And for us, a matching pair of cherry-red Porsches.
We'll be babe magnets.
But until then, your mommy will still have to drop you off at the mall.
-Louise! -Whatever.
Would you please tell the monkey boys breakfast is ready?
Hey, Mikey, come on in.
Just in time for breakfast. You want a bowl of cereal?
Thanks anyway, Mrs. Martin, but I'm not hungry.
Would it be all right if I hung out a while?
Sure. Are you okay?
We lost last night, and Dad's on the warpath again.
I'll go home once he calms down.
Why don't you come and see the team play this morning?
Big game today. It would mean so much to them.
-You know how they look up to you. -Okay, I'm there.
Reading about yourself in the newspaper, it's a nice habit.
-Come on, Mom. -Yeah, read it out loud.
All right.
"Terriers fight to a big comeback. Must hang on for one more battle...
"with the top-seeded Roosters to win junior soccer title.
"New coach, key to success."
-Look, there we are! -We're on the sports page.
So, Eduardo, what do you want on your gravestone?
"Here lies Eduardo, eaten whole by a pack of wild animals...
"his flesh ripped off his skeleton, and his blood splattered all over the--"
Knock it off, Eduardo. You've seen too many horror films.
You know, we've got a chance to win, just like they do.
-We're gonna win. -When bats fly out of my nose.
-Ready, men? -We can do this.
Let's kick some butts and take some names.
Pass it!
Go!
Pass the ball.
Hey, hold it there. Unnecessary.
-Come on, Rusty. -Hey, you all right?
Hey, guys, give me a shot.
Ice cream!
Come on! Ice cream!
Hey. I know you. The big mouths.
What are you doing here?
I just came from Greenville. We slaughtered the Phantoms.
Thirteen to zero. I scored five points myself.
So, the word is, you losers got lucky and beat the Roosters.
We didn't want them to look too bad, so we took it easy on them.
It's bad enough that Rusty's gonna have to show off his dumper.
So you remembered our bet. If I remember correctly...
if either us or the Roosters win, you guys have to drop them.
You can't possibly think you have a chance against us.
Can't wait to see the lint balls on your pale butts.
This is Bobby, our goalie.
He eats kids like you for breakfast.
Bobby, I'm gonna give these boneheads something to remember.
See you on the field, fools. That is, if you make it to the finals.
Enjoy the shake.
Greetings, fashion plates.
Guess what I've got? Our new schedule.
We play the Mudcats in Newburn at 2:00 p.m.
I got a package here for Dylan and Cole Martian.
Hey, I guess our fan mail's here.
It's probably our soccer contracts. And it's Martin, sir.
Well, don't you wanna see what's in the box?
Sign here, please.
Thank you.
Wait. Don't we know you from somewhere?
You look like that soccer guy from the team--
You know, I get that all the time.
Hey, guys, let's open the package.
Cool. Terrier sweatshirts!
It's nice to have been able to serve you.
Let's see.
"l wish I could have delivered them myself. Wear with pride.
"l love you all. Good luck, Presscott."
All right, guys. Let's go.
Wake up, Rudy. It's game time.
Shoot.
Go!
Handball! No hands, son.
-Say "cheese"! -We lost the game.
Stupid soccer!
Man, I hate my life. I'm so dumb.
I hate all of this. And my dad.
I feel so dumb!
Stupid!
No!
Dylan, honey, it's all right to be upset.
You don't know how hard it is to be a geek.
Dylan, enough. We'll be fine.
You're wrong. We're already fine.
No more lemonade stories.
Let's just chalk this up as an okay ending to a pretty ugly day.
Come in.
-Hi, Mom. -Hey, feeling any better?
Here's a very nice article about the Terrier heroics.
It's a great way to close out the season.
Hey, you guys, come on. You've been in here for over 24 hours.
Let's go with Aunt Louise and see a movie or something.
Sure, Mom.
Thanks, Mom.
Check it out. Look.
-No way. -Yeah, way.
-Where's the fire? -You're him!
-What are you talking about? -I was looking at the paper...
and I was looking at the poster, and, Rudy, you're him!
You're George Patrick Owens!
This ain't....
This is not good.
If you know, then other people know.
I'm telling you. When we see him, we're gonna waste him.
He's got to be in this town. We saw him in the paper. He's around.
I was stupid for going out in public.
-We're sorry, George Patrick. -Not George Patrick. You can't call me that.
Sorry.
Rudy, all right?
Rudy, don't forget.
No George Patrick.
Look, guys, there'll be some dangerous men here soon.
We can go get Mikey's dad. He's a cop.
No, guys, you can't tell anyone.
Look, I came here to hide. A friend told me about this place.
It would have been perfectly safe, but I got lost in this fantasy.
Then with you wee snappers and the team, I started to play again.
I shouldn't have gotten careless. Now I'm in danger.
We can help.
You can help me only if you promise not to tell anyone.
Not like last time, Dylan.
-Nobody, no one. Do you promise? -I promise.
Stab me with a freshly sharpened pencil, right in the eye.
Dip me in boiling oil, I won't breathe a word.
I'm counting on you.
Now go home.
-But, Rudy-- -Look, guys...
one day George Patrick Owens, not Rudy, will come back.
And then I'll teach you to perfect everything I know.
Now go. I want you to be safe. Go!
That's the man, all right. Chief.
Book me on the next flight to the States. I'm going to handle this one myself.
-Hey, guys. How was your day? -Fine.
What did I do with that piece of paper?
You know, I don't know if it's the e-mail or the printer...
but I can't make heads or tails of this. Can you read this?
It's not hard to read, Mom.
It says that the Mudcats are disqualified from competition...
due to a rule violation.
"The Terriers are now slated to take their place...
"in the first round of the State Championships..."
Oh, my gosh!
"...against the Yellow Jackets of Charlotte."
-We're dead men. -We're real goners.
We need Rudy.
Boys, what's wrong?
Guys!
I bet those are the bad guys.
We'd better get out of here.
Is it okay to break a solemn oath if someone's life is in danger?
What are you talking about?
Are you guys in trouble?
No, worse. Rudy.
Work with us here. We got a plan.
Come on.
Hide in here. When my mom falls asleep, I'll come back to get you.
But no late-night trips to the fridge.
Why? Do I look fat in this dress?
Short notice or not, the boys were so excited.
I guess they've been off with Rudy. Should be home any minute.
What, the Yellow Jackets? They're just boys. They can't be all that bad.
Listen, I have a few more parents to call...
so have him there at 7:45, and we leave at 8:00 sharp.
See you then. Bye-bye.
Hey, guys. Ready to tear them up tomorrow?
Yeah, sure, Mom.
You guys don't seem very excited.
You know, it's a big honor to be in the state finals.
Rudy's sick. He has laryngitis.
Who's that? Oh, you mean "laryngitis"?
It's a flu in the throat...
and he's throwing up big chunks all over the floor.
-Poor guy. Should I get him something? -Mom, this is serious.
Oh, no, not his appendix.
Poor Dexter.
Of course he can't play.
Okay, give him our best.
What are you doing here?
I kicked a bad punt at the game, and we lost.
-My dad's really upset. -You have to go home.
You really should be there when your dad wakes up.
Go home before it gets worse.
Okay, boys. Let's go. We have to meet the rest of the team.
Where's he going?
No goalie. And there goes Rudy.
-Hi, Mom. -Hey, what are you staring at?
Did someone run over a cat or something?
No, it's nothing.
By the way, when you were in the shower this morning...
-Rudy said he'd meet us at the game. -I drew him a map.
What? You can't even find your way to the bathroom at night.
Mom, have faith. I've never peed in the kitchen sink.
I know what I'm doing.
All right, then. Let's make like horse poop, and hit the road.
Where's Louise?
I meant to tell you that she'll be meeting us there, too.
You idiot. You let him get away. The boss is gonna kill us.
I mean, you.
-Louise, you saved my life. -What happened to your accent?
You fell for that caveman act?
George Patrick Owens. Pleasure to meet you.
-So this is the bigtime? -All I got is bigtime butterflies.
You smell something?
Look, guys, it's the smalltime heroes, come to get their cans crushed.
Yeah, where's your dirtbag coach?
He's probably in the trash, digging for their lunch.
-Rudy will be here any minute. -Sure enough. Any minute.
We have been driving around forever. Where is this place?
-I'm gonna get directions. -No directions.
We don't need no stinking directions. Cole drew me a wee map.
I can't read it. Keep driving around. We're close. I can feel it.
Okay, guys, when you get out there, I want you to pass.
And help each other.
We're gonna kick butt and stuff.
We're gonna go for it today. I want you to get fired up, okay?
We're gonna just do everything that Rudy taught you.
Rudy should be here any minute. He must have car trouble.
Believe me, guys. You can do this. We're a team.
I know we lost him. You try keeping up with his muscle car.
We'll get him, I'm telling you.
Excuse me. Where are the kids that usually play soccer here?
-Maybe that way. -Memorial Park?
-That way. -Sure, thanks.
And do all the stuff that you've been doing lately.
You know, everything that Rudy taught you.
Let's do it.
Okay, so I want you to go out there and think of everything Rudy taught you.
Two minutes to game time. Two minutes.
All right, men. I wanna win. You got that?
Now first, intimidate the crap out of them.
Use your bodies. Slam them hard.
Especially the goalie.
Take him out, and then all we've got to do is run in and score whenever we want to.
Now, crush the little cretins.
Claw the little buggers. Go! Get out there and punch them.
What's the big deal? So I took a bath.
-Hey, big mouth, who's your dentist? -Dr. Price, why?
Better make an appointment with him...
because you're gonna be spitting up all your teeth.
You need him more than I do, unless that's the crap sandwich you ate I smell.
You're dead.
You better send your soul to heaven, 'cause your butt is mine.
Come on, pass the ball!
That's right, you're doing it!
He's so bad.
Pass the ball. Run!
Great first half, laddies.
All right, will everyone sit, please?
On your behoochies.
We have a very important half of the game to play.
And I owe all of you a large explanation.
-Coach, are you really-- -Aye.
And I was tired of not being me.
I felt like a wilting plant in need of sunshine.
I started off just like you wee lads, playing football...
or as you say, "soccer."
And as I grew, my love for the game grew.
Before I knew what happened, all my dreams had come true...
and I was on the Scottish National Team, playing for the World Cup.
Then, about a year ago, I realized my passion in life, football...
was not a game anymore, but a business.
Certain men demanded that I lose a game to make them money.
They threatened me. I refused and agreed to testify against them.
After I did...
a friend convinced the authorities to help me hide in this country...
till these hooligans could be brought to justice.
I learned I couldn't trust anyone, except for my friend.
So I came to your town.
You guys....
You brought back my love for the game.
I had to be with you today, even if it meant putting myself in danger.
Now, you can win.
I've watched the other team. They don't pass when they should.
They're just a bunch of ramgunschohs, skivers, and blethering idiots.
But we are a team, and we'll play as a team.
Now, sprint out on the field, pass the ball, help your teammates.
Pass. We will run this team into the ground.
I believe in you guys. I really do.
Now let's do it!
-That must have hurt. -Oh, beautiful.
Sterling, are you okay? God, you're heavy.
What are we going to do? We don't have anybody else to play goalie.
-I can be goalie. -Mikey, what are you doing here?
We hid him in the back of the van. We accept full responsibility.
All right. Let's get our new goalie in the game.
No, wait. It's illegal. He's not on the roster.
I took care of that months ago, before registration.
-Then, let's do it. -All right, go, Mikey.
Remember, you're an animal!
Pick it up. Come on.
-Do what? -Look at Cole. He's open.
Look at your teammates.
-He's a freaking hooligan. -Did you see that?
Come on, now.
Pass. Pass the ball.
Get the net.
Go! Get down the field.
All right!
Hustle up.
Over there.
Go!
That's my boy. Go get them!
Go, Mikey!
Go, yes!
Come on. We got to get one more goal on this guy.
That's my boy out there!
Yeah, Mikey!
Direct kick. You're up, son.
Come on, Mikey.
That's it!
Put your leg into it!
Look at that thing go.
Don't use your hands, Dylan!
You have to jump, Dylan!
Fly like a bird, Dylan!
Wait, don't be a mom. Be a coach.
-Right in your face, you little twerp. -That's what you get, stinkweed.
-Second effort. -Cole, the ball!
-Come on, follow up on that. -Second effort!
-Stay down. -Now that's using your head!
Get your hands off me!
Dad!
-Did you see the game? -I saw the good part.
-Presscott, what are you doing here? -I came to see my family.
And George Patrick Owens in action.
This is the man I was talking about, the man that saved me.
No way!
Way.
I see you've met our Louise.
Not so fast, dweebs. We had a bet, remember?
-No way! -You said a bet's a bet.
Only a coward welshes on a bet.
-Are you a coward, Rusty? -No way!
Then drop them!
Dylan, maybe we should let them slide.
Aside from Eduardo's underpants, I can't imagine anything I'd wanna see less.
Cole, this is the only time it ever paid for me to speak up.
Now drop them.
Hey, look!
-Another ugly ending to a beautiful day. -Copy that.