Host: [on radio] Wait a minute. You're telling us you're the guy?
Frank: [on radio] Damn straight.
Host: And you're proud of what you did?
Frank: You bet I am!
Host: So you think you deserved the ball? You're gonna keep it?
Frank: No, I'll give it back for ten grand.

Host: [on radio] Frank, you're telling me that Ron Fernandez doesn't deserve the ball?
Frank: [on radio] Who the hell is Ron Fernandez?
Host: [on radio] The player who kicked the field goal.
Frank: [on radio] Well, his money's as good as anyone else's.
Debra: Why do you let him use the phone?!
Frank: [on radio] I got an idea all you whiners who think this kid should have the ball can take up a collection and send it to Frank Barone, entrepreneur.

Ray: Oh, no. I can't believe he said that!
Robert: I know, "entrepreneur."
Ray: No, Barone! Barone! He used our last name!
Marie: This is gonna drive down the price of my cakes.
Host: [on radio] Wait a minute, Barone? Any relation to Ray Barone, the sports writer?
Ray: No! No!
Frank: [on radio] Sure, he's my son.
Ray: No-oo! [slams radio into Marie's cake]
Marie: Oh, my cake! My cake!

Ray: Did you hear what he said?! How could he say that?!
Host: [on radio] That explains it. I hate that guy's column. He thinks he's so funny. He blows!
Ray: Hey.
Robert: [laughs] Man, I should be taping this.

Marie: Frank? I made you a snack.
Frank: Thank you.
Marie: Frank, hold the sandwich with two hands like a person.
Frank: I'm all right.
Marie: [unbuttons top] So, um Frank, what do say we turn off the TV... Chi-chi?
Frank: What are you doing?
Marie: What do you think I'm doing?
Frank: Whoa, whoa, whoa, you been drinkin'? Hey, what are you doin'?!
Marie: I'm takin' this ball back to Hofstra where it belongs.
Frank: You floozy! You're not goin' anywhere!

Ray: Get out of here, Dad!
Frank: You should lock your doors. It's a bad neighborhood.

Ray: This is my column for tomorrow morning. You know what, let me read it to you. It'll be good to get a perspective from people who read my column every day. [Marie, Debra and Robert are silent] Oh, you're kidding me? You don't read my column?
Marie: It's just that it's always about sports.
Ray: What about you?
Debra: I used to read it a lot when we were dating.
Robert: I get "The Times."

Ray: "My father is the reason I became a sports writer. Growing up, he took me to every game he could, teaching me to appreciate the thrill of competition, the grace of athletes, and the wonder of a properly topped hot dog. But sadly, my father has become a symbol of what is wrong with sports today. My father is Frank Barone, who is now holding a football for ransom, hoping to squeeze out a couple of dollars and a few minutes in the limelight. I see now that my father and I no longer share the same idea of sports, or, for that matter, life. And because he'll never apologize, I'll do it. Sorry, Ron Fernandez. Sorry, Hofstra University. Sorry, sports fans everywhere. You deserve better. We all do." So?
Debra: Wow.
Robert: Not bad. I should read your stuff more often.
Marie: It's beautifully written and so honest. [rips it up]
Ray: What are you doing?! Give me that! You just said that it was good!
Marie: It's exceptional, but you can't print that. You don't attack your family in public.
Ray: What are you talking about? You took a swing at him at the mall last week.
Marie: That's different. He was doing skits in the lingerie store.

Robert: All right, Ma, look he has to publish this, all right? Dad is a menace, and he's got to be stopped.
Ray: See?
Robert: I'm with you all the way, brother.
Debra: Ray, your mom has a point.
Ray: Oh my God.
Debra: I don't think this is gonna get the ball back.
Ray: What do you want to do, draw up another play for Fran Tarkenton here?

Debra: This is just gonna make Frank dig his heels in even more.
Marie: Think of our family, Raymond. It'll only destroy our harmony.
Ray: Harmony! Are you hearing this?
Robert: Are you? Because she's right.
Ray: What? What happened to this? [raises fist in solidarity]
Robert: I still got it. [raises fist] It's just over here now. [shuffles over to Marie & Debra]