Robert: So what's new? I was just taking Shamsky out for a drive today. It's nice out, huh? So what's new?
Frank: Cut the crap. Your mother asked him already.
Ray: Robert, why do you have to have Mom ask me to take you to the Hall of Fame?
Robert: Ma, you were supposed to make it seem like it just came up.
Marie: And you were supposed to wait across the street until I flashed the Venetian blinds.

Robert: The '69 Mets. The amazing match. The Miracle Mets. I love those guys. It's one of the few bright spots of my childhood. I just wish Dad had taken us to a game.
Ray: Hey, he took us to a lot of Yankee games. That was fun.
Robert: Well, maybe for you. I hated the Yankees.
Ray: What do you mean you hated the Yankees? You cried every time they lost.
Robert: It's because Dad told me it was my fault.

Ray: Look, we'll go in, you'll meet Art Shamsky and the rest of the Mets. On the ride home, we'll get you a Happy Meal.

Ray: What are you doing?
Robert: I just want to preserve this moment. I mean, how often do I get to see the "Ray-Doesn't-Get-Everything Show"?
Ray: Okay, I know what this is. "Oh, it never ends for Raymond. He has everything, I have nothing. Oh, mopey, mopey, pouty, pouty, snooty, snooty. Oh!"
Robert: No, no, I admit that there may have been times when I might have mentioned in passing that I possibly envied you. But not anymore. And would you like to know why?
Ray: Yeah, no, not really. Where the hell is the waitress?
Robert: Everything you have: successful career, great family, free hot dogs, has made you lose touch with reality. You are spoiled.
Ray: Oh yeah, and I guess all those years sponging off Mom and Dad have made you a better person.
Robert: It certainly did. I may have a thankless job, be divorced, pay full price for a hot dog, but I happen to have something you'll never have.
Ray: A tail?
Robert: Character, Ray.
Ray: Oh yeah, yeah. You're very superior.
Robert: Yeah, you see I am superior because I'm humble.

Ray: We must have hit a skunk that crawled out of the ass of another skunk. Put your shoes on, gouda feet.

Marie: So, Raymond, are you going to the Hall of Baseball tomorrow?
Ray: What?
Frank: The Hall of Fame, Marie. You ignorant-
Marie: Raymond, your brother was talking about some sort of a ceremony. It sounded like a lot of fun to me. And since you are a sportswriter and have such important connections-
Frank: Oh, just say it, Marie. The Hall of Fame is honoring the 1969 Mets. Your brother asked your mother to ask you to take him.
Ray: Which one of you do I say no to?

Ray: Come on, Raymond, you know how much that would mean to your brother. Mom, you know how long it takes to get to Cooperstown, okay? I'm not driving the car with Robert for four hours. His feet smell.
Marie: Well, take a bus.
Ray: A bus! That's a smelly feet contest.

Robert: Hey, you've actually met some of those guys. Kranepool, Harrelson, McGraw.
Ray: Yeah.
Robert: Man, what a life you've got, meeting sport's idols, free hot dogs. You're a lucky man, Raymond. Lucky man.
Ray: Nah, it's not that great. Most of the time I'm sitting in locker rooms, guys with towels, guys without towels.
Robert: I sure hope Art Shamsky will be there. You know, he homed on his first time at bat.
Ray: I know.
Robert: I can't wait to tell him I named my dog after him.
Ray: Oh hey, do me a favor, don't tell him that.
Robert: What do you mean? I brought Shamsky's collar for him to sign.
Ray: Whoa, whoa, you're not taking that thing into the Hall Of Fame.
Robert: What if I just let Art sign it but I don't tell him about the dog?

Ray: Hey, Tugboat. Hey, Tuggy Bear. Hi, it's me Ray Barone from "New York Newsday."
Tug McGraw: Oh, yeah, Barone. You're the guy that did the article on ballplayers becoming announcers.
Ray: Yes, yeah, yeah. How are you?
Tug McGraw: I'm doing okay, considering I'm one of the ex-jocks looking for a second career at the expense of the hearing public.

Ray: I need to talk to Art Shamsky for a few seconds.
Security Guard: I've been nothing but patient.
Ray: He's right there. I just need to talk to him. I want to talk to Art Shamsky. My brother loves him. He's got a dog collar for him!