(theme music playing)
CHORUS: ♪ The Simpsons ♪
(bell ringing)
(tires screeching)
D'oh! (screams)
(tires screeching)
(indistinct chatter)
Well, your cholesterol level
is lethally high, Homer,
but I'm more concerned about your gravy level.
Now, wait a second.
You doctors have been telling us
to drink eight glasses of gravy a day.
(laughs)
Well, you're a little confused.
Oh, confused, would we?
OK, gentlemen.
I want you to raise your hand
when you hear the tone.
You can't tell me what to do.
(tone)
(louder tone)
Nothing yet.
(louder tone)
(people grunting)
Now, make no mistake.
When I say "first aid,"
I'm not talking about some sort of charity rock concert.
(laughing)
I'm talking about treating serious injuries.
(laughing)
(chuckles)
Serious injuries.
Oh, that's gold.
(woodenly) Mom. Mom.
I stepped in a bear trap.
Sounds like you need some first aid.
(murmuring agreement)
-Bravo. -All right.
(grunts)
Come on. You can't do one sit-up?
(panting) I loved your last McBain movie,
Mr. Wolfcastle.
Quit stalling, fatty.
(inhaling)
We can wait.
-(exhales) -Come to papa.
-(grunting) -Come on.
Even my fat mama can touch her toes.
-(cloth tearing) -Hey, Bart.
We wear the same underpants.
Results from yesterday's health fair are in
and the news is not good.
Springfield is in terrible shape,
particularly our young boys.
(grunting)
(cloth tearing)
(laughing)
Hey, tubby.
Want another pop-tart, tubby?
I'm comfortable with who I am.
(muffled) You're a disgrace to this family.
In this reporter's opinion,
it's time for our lard-laden lads to shape up,
get out and try fun activities, like military service,
frenetic dancing,
or good, old-fashioned peewee football.
There you go, Bart.
Peewee football will melt away
those unsightly pounds and inches.
Yeah, but I could get seriously hurt.
Then it's settled.
We don't have to play football, do we, Daddy?
(chuckles) You betcha.
Team sports will keep you away
from temptations like rock music and girls.
(cheering)
You know, Milhouse,
you are getting a little doughy.
Aw! Can't I just have the surgery?
He's going to need a...
You know-- protection.
Sure. One helmet coming up.
I was thinking more like protection for...
(quietly) Down there.
Oh, why didn't you say so?
Knee pads. You got it.
(nervous laugh)
I'm talking about his...
(mutters) Personal area.
Aha! Say no more. I read you loud and clear.
The old shoulder pads.
Look, I want a cup!
"Cup"? Could you spell that?
C-U-P.
I want a C-U...
Oh, my God!
OK, Milhouse, let's try out the new cup.
-(grunts) -(laughs)
Again!
-(grunts) -(yawns)
(grunting)
MARGE: Milhouse, stop that!
-(grunts) -A little higher, Wendell.
-(grunts) -(chuckles)
-A lot higher, Martin. -RALPH: (grunts)
Uh, Ralph, that's a basketball.
(grunts)
(gasps)
OK, Nelson's our quarterback.
Thanks, four-eyes.
Ralph, you'll be on special teams.
I'm special!
And, uh, Bart, you'll be a tackle.
Cool!
(grunts)
Careful, Bart! You'll break my calculator--
By which, I mean my head.
LISA: What position have you got for me?
BOYS: What? Huh?
That's right.
A girl wants to play football.
How about that?
Well, that's super duper, Lisa.
In fact, we already have four girls on the team.
-You do? -Uh-huh,
but we'd love to have you on board.
Well...
Football's not really my thing.
After all,
what civilized person would play a game
with the skin of an innocent pig?
(chuckles) Well, actually, Lisa, these balls are synthetic.
And for every ball we buy,
a dollar goes to Amnesty International.
I've got to go.
Who are we?
The Wildcats!
Who are we gonna beat?
The Wildcats.
Hey, Flanders!
You're the worst coach this team has ever had!
He's the only coach this team has ever had,
and the season hasn't even started yet.
Yeah, well...
He's wearing that hat like an idiot.
You know, Homer, it's very easy to criticize.
Fun, too.
All right, Wildcats, are you ready to give 110%,
take it one game at a time
and go the whole nine yards?
Yeah! Nine yards!
Okely-dokely. Let's put on our game faces.
(indistinct chatter)
(grunts)
Got it.
Gimme the ball, and your lunch money.
I love this game.
(cheering, whistling)
Ooh! He's quite a little dancer.
Oh, you got lucky, Flanders.
And fix that hat!
Yeah. Thanks for the tip, Homer.
OK, Simpson, you're blocking for me on this play.
All right!
(growls)
Oops.
Hut-hut, hike-hike, hut!
(grunts)
It's clobberin' time.
(grunting)
You OK, Bart?
(squeaks) Yeah.
-(whistles) -(cheering)
I'm special!
(gasps) (laughs)
(cheering)
Eh, big deal.
I been carried out of Moe's like that hundreds of times.
Yeah, I'm telling you, Flanders can't coach at all.
Now, I'm not the type to have a grudge for no reason...
Sir, if I could just break in for a moment.
HOMER: Yes, Roy?
Do you have a question for Sandy Koufax?
Yes. Mr. Koufax, don't you think Flanders is a big jerk?
-(line disconnects) -Y'ello? Y'ello?
(keypad beeping)
Yeah. Homer again. I think we got cut off.
-(line disconnects) -Y'ello?
(keypad beeping)
BOY: 5F03, hut!
(all grunting)
(audience cheering)
Flan-ders!
What?
Flan-ders!
What? What is it?
Game's out there.
(laughing) Made you look.
(grumbling)
They're just words, Neddy.
Words can't hurt you.
Ow! That's it!
Dad, that was really mean.
I know, sweetie,
and I got him right in the... Uh-oh.
(nervous chuckle)
H-hi, Flanders.
(quietly) Go, Wildcats.
Do you have a problem with the way I'm coaching?
No, no, no, no, no.
It's just that, well, like I was yelling earlier,
it seems like anyone with half a brain
could coach better than you.
Uh-huh! Half a brain, huh?
Well, you know what?
It sounds like you just volunteered.
Me? But you were doing such a great job.
(groans)
(yelling)
You're not going to make the team
with that kind of attitude.
I don't want to make the team.
Then why are you running the obstacle course?
Are you wearing my self-defense whistle?
You never use it.
-(grumbles) -(whistling)
Good morning, everybody.
Wipe that smile off your face.
What did I do?
I'm tired of watching you dog it
on that football field.
From now on, I'm going to work you like a dog.
Now, go fetch me 20 laps.
-Oh, man. -Do it.
You shouldn't pressure Bart like that.
Well, if you know a better way
for me to live through my son,
I'd like to hear it.
(panting)
I knew it.
Slowing down already, huh?
How can you treat him that way?
Don't you remember how bad your father made you feel
when you played sports?
Well, that's the end of the girls' floor exercise.
Now, let's bring on the men!
Wish me luck, Dad.
Just don't screw up like you always do.
("Music Box Dancer" playing)
Wow! He's dy-no-mite!
What's his name again?
(inhales sharply)
You're going to blow it!
(gasping)
Ah!
That's what I get for havin' faith in ya.
(sadly) Oh, my father never believed in me.
Well, I'm not going to make the same mistake.
From now on, I'm going to be kinder to my son
and meaner to my dad.
Quit running, son.
I just want to give you a big hug.
BART: It's got to be a trick. Run like the wind.
I believe in you!
Hug me!
(grunting)
Will you hug me?
Hug me!
(whistle blows) Good practice, team.
OK, it's time for the easiest part of any coach's job--
The cuts.
Now, while I wasn't able to cut everyone I wanted to,
I have cut a lot of you.
Wendell is cut.
Rudy is cut.
Janey, you're gone.
Steven, I like your hustle.
That's why it was so hard to cut you.
Congratulations. The rest of you made the team.
(all sigh)
Except you, you and you.
Bart didn't get cut.
What a surprise.
Now, just because I'm his father,
he'll get no special treatment.
He calls me "coach" just like everyone else,
which he'll be doing as our new starting quarterback.
What? Get out of here!
Aw, man! No way!
What a rip!
-But, coach... -What is it, sweetie?
Nelson's a great quarterback.
He's carrying this team.
ALL: Yeah, that's right.
Not anymore.
From now on, you're my main man.
OK, now, everyone,
give me five laps and hit the showers.
Oh, Rod, you don't have to. You're cut.
BART: But I can't play quarterback.
I don't even know how.
Son, you can do anything you want.
I have total faith in you.
-Since when? -Since your mother yelled at me.
-Now, how about that hug? -(tires screech)
Dad, the car!
I got it.
Good luck, Homer.
No hard feelings.
Not so easy to keep your mouth shut now,
is it, Flanders?
Ready, set, hut!
Hut!
(grunt)
(screams)
It's OK, son.
You'll do better next time.
No, please, Bart, don't!
Ooh!
Help. Help, help.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Look at him go!
No, no. Uh.
Excellent poise, son.
You panicked, but you didn't lose your cool.
(groans)
Bart, over here! Come on!
(all yelling)
Just throw it, doofus.
Aw, crap.
Great debut, son.
You really settled in after some early jitters.
Are you kidding? I reeked.
Oh, really?
Do reeky players get the game ball?
Hey, everybody, let's hear it for Bart!
Give me a "B"?
I won't give you a "B",
but I'll tear you a new "A."
If I wasn't your friend, I'd tell you you sucked.
You ruined our undefeated season.
You ruined everything, ruiner!
My sister likes you.
Listen here, daddy's boy.
You cost us one more game, and you're dead.
You're going to heaven.
Oh!
Oh, it's going to take a miracle
for me to become a good quarterback.
(gate creaking)
Excuse me, son.
Wow, Joe Namath!
That's right. My car broke down in front of your house.
I cannot believe you are here.
Do you think maybe you could give me some pointers?
Sure. There's only one thing you need to know
to be a great quarterback.
-(car engine revving) -WOMAN: Joe, honey, I fixed it.
It was just vapor lock.
Ah. Oops. Hey, look, I got to run.
Remember what I told you.
OK, Bart, concentrate.
NAMATH: Remember what I told you.
Just one thing.
My car broke down.
I'm Joe Namath.
My car broke down.
WOMAN: It was just vapor lock.
Vapor lock... Vapor lock... Vapor lock.
I'm dead.
So if I play, the guys are going to kill me.
If I don't, I'll be letting Homer down.
What am I going to do?
Well, I know you don't want to disappoint Dad,
but how do you feel about lying to him?
Good.
Oh, you guys are so cut.
Dad, I got some bad news.
Oh, your mother's not pregnant, is she?
No. I got hit by a couple of cars.
I won't be able to play today.
BOTH: Yes!
Oh, boy.
Well, I'll just have to go to my backup plan.
Nelson, how's your arm feeling?
-Great! -Good.
Take this note over to the referee.
"We forfeit"?
Forfeit? What?
Come on. Oh, man.
Come on, guys. We can't play without Bart.
He's the heart of this team.
No, I'm not. I suck.
It's true. He does.
(all agreeing) Yeah, he does. Yeah.
Don't listen to them, son.
I have total faith in you.
(grunts)
You don't get it, do you?
I don't want to be your stupid quarterback.
I quit!
What?
Well, I got news for you, mister.
You can't quit.
You're cut!
You, too, Milhouse.
All right!
(munching)
So, like I said,
I've never had a tick burrow in so deep.
Little guy's just got a mind of his own.
Mom, please! We're eating.
Well, at least I'm making conversation.
May I be excused, Mom?
Oh, so now you're quitting dinner, too.
Homer, please.
I didn't raise him to be a quitter, Marge.
It must have been you.
You quit every job you've ever had--
Cop, pretzel vendor, church counselor,
professional gambler...
He's doing what he thinks is best.
Well, if quitting is the best, maybe I should just quit my job.
Ahoy-hoy?
Mr. Burns, this is Homer J. Simpson,
the father of the big quitter.
Well, I just wanted to tell you I'm a big quitter, too,
and I quit.
MARGE: Homer, Mr. Burns can't see you winking.
So? (shrieks)
NELSON: Yellow, 25, hut!
Go long!
-Go long! -(other boys grunting)
Aw, hell, I'll do it myself.
(crowd cheering)
(heavily panting)
I got to quit smoking.
We drove 2,000 miles for this?
We're in the championship.
Way to go, team!
Gee, thanks, coach.
(motorcycle revving)
Great game, son.
Come on, I'm taking you to hooters.
Aw, I don't want to bother Mom at work.
Well, Bart, looks like it's just you and...
Oh.
FEMALE ELECTRONIC VOICE: I'll scratch you.
The hair! The hair!
-Slut! -Loser!
Skank! Skank! Skank!
I'm feeling kind of low, Apu.
Got any of that beer that has candy floating in it?
You know, Skittlebrau.
Such a product does not exist, sir.
I think you must have dreamed it.
Oh. Well, then just give me a six-pack
and a couple of bags of Skittles.
Hello, son.
I want to apologize.
I just got so caught up trying to encourage you,
I was blinded to your stinky performance.
If you forgive me
I promise I'll never encourage you again.
I've got lots of quarters.
This thing only takes dollars.
Aw...
You know, tomorrow's the championship game
and I could sure use a good offensive tackle.
I thought Uter took my place.
Consider him cut.
(grunts)
MARGE: Wow!
Homer coaching in the championship game.
You must be pretty proud of your son.
You'd think so, wouldn't you?
(snoring)
Time for one last play, coach.
Hold on, I'm working it out.
OK. Half of you vibrate that way,
two of you fall down...
Nelson, you just spin around in a circle.
(siren wailing)
All right, I've got an arrest warrant here
for Nelson Muntz.
Uh, which one of you little punks is Muntz?
Oh, no, my quarterback!
What are we going to do?
It's OK, Dad. I can fill in for Nelson.
Are you sure, son?
I knew I could count on you.
(boys grunting)
(cheering)
(snoring)
(laughs) (gasps)
So, what's the charge, chief? Vandalism? Smoking?
You know what you did, Muntz--
Burglary and arson.
You're going away for a long time.
Wha...
-(siren wails) -(chuckling)
Poor Bart.
You know, we had a lot of fun tonight,
but there's nothing funny about... Vapor lock.
It's the third most common cause of car stallings,
so, please, take care of your car and get it checked.
I'm Joe Namath.
Good night.
HOMER: Scully, you're cut.
Uh, Brooks, Groening, Simon, you're all cut.
Castellaneta, gone.
Kavner, cut. Can'twright, cut. Smith, sorry. Cut.
Azaria and Shearer, you're cut. Firestone, you're cut.
So is Judge. Namath, you stay.
All of those people are cut.
Bill Schultz and Wolf and Silverman. Goldfreyer.
O'Brlen, Doyle, Selman, I don't know what you--
Elliott, l-I don't know what you're doing here because you're all cut.
Pietlla, Bridge and "Kuwawahawa."
Now there's so many cuts here-- look, I'll just post 'em up
and you just see where your name is.
Ooh, look at how many cuts there are there.
Oh, boy! You're cut! All of you!
He's cut. I cut you!
-Shh! -HOMER: You're cut too, shushy!
Captioned by Visual Data Media Services