Frasier: Dad? Dad?
Martin: Oh, jeez...
Frasier: No, no, please, just one question: did you let me win?
Martin: Oh, for crying out loud, Frasier.
Frasier: No, no, please. Please. Did you play your best?
Martin: For five thousand bucks? What do you think?
Frasier: You wouldn't just be saying that?
Martin: On your mother's grave, may lightning strike me down, I, Martin Crane, swear on the holiest of Bibles, you won, I lost, fair and square, cross my heart and hope to go to sleep.
Frasier: Thank you, Dad.
Martin: You're welcome.
[Frasier closes the door. A moment later:]
Frasier: I'm sorry I beat you, Dad.