Frasier: Freddie, I don't believe you've met Bulldog.
Bulldog: Hey, kid.
Frederick: Why are you called Bulldog?
Bulldog: Er, people have just always called me that.
Frederick: But why?
Bulldog: I don't know.
Frasier: Well, all right, Bulldog, Roz and I have a show to prepare for.
Bulldog: No, no, wait a minute. This is important. Why do people call me Bulldog? There has to be a reason. [As a woman enters the booth, Bulldog barks at her and she runs out] This is gonna drive me nuts.

Roz: So who's going to sub for me in the game on Saturday, we've got to have a ninth body out there or we forfeit.
Bulldog: All right, uh, how about Mindy Guthrie?
Roz: Eight months pregnant.
Bulldog: July, August, September, October, November, December, January. I'm fine.

Bulldog: Oh, hey, hey, in a little while, I'm going to bring in my cart. You can hit the gong.
Frederick: Why?
Bulldog: It's loud. I make a lot of loud noises on my show.
Frederick: Why?
Bulldog: I don't know. Boy, I'm starting to get a headache.

Frasier: Oh, yes, well, speaking of Daphne. While you're waiting for Daphne, why don't you go on out, get yourself a candy bar out of the machine.
Frederick: Mommy says candy rots tooth enamel.
Frasier: Yes, well, chew on the side of your mouth, rot your baby teeth.

Frasier: I just keep thinking back to that time when Dad made us try Little League. I will never forget the humiliation of getting up to bat for the first time in my life and hearing the other team all cry out, "Move in, everybody. Crane's up!"
Niles: Yes, but they moved right back out again after you took your first swing.
Frasier: Only because the bat flew out of my hands.

Frasier: Oh, I can live with playing badly in front of my co-workers. It's Frederick I'm worried about. He's still at that age where he thinks his father can do anything.
Niles: Every child at some point must discover that his father is not a superhero.
Frasier: I know.
Niles: It's a healthy part of the developmental process.
Frasier: I know, I know. Some day he's going to have to learn that I'm not perfect. It's just I was hoping it might be something less humiliating, like seeing me fast-dance at a family wedding.
Niles: You consider that less humiliating?

Frasier: It must have been kinda disappointing for you I never took any interest in this sort of thing as a kid.
Martin: Well, I understood.
Frasier: I guess it's a little complex I must have developed. When I was growing up, you know, the doorbell would ring, I'd run to answer it. Then there'd be the neighborhood kids with their baseball gloves and their bats looking for somebody else to join their game. They'd say, "Hey, can your Dad come out and play?"

Frasier: Did you hear that? Did you hear that? I touched it that time, I did!
Martin: No, I think that was my knee cracking. Hey, you're doing a lot better, though. That's six in a row without hitting yourself in your kidney on your follow-through.

Frasier: Back in third grade, you took me and some of the boys from the Math Club out for pizza. When the
check came, you couldn't figure out the tip in your head.
Martin: I can't do math in my head. That's your big disappointment?!
Frasier: Well, it was at the time.
Martin: Well, I wonder if I can calculate in my head how many hits you got today? Let me think, uh. Oh, zero.
Frasier: Fine. Fine, Dad, get defensive. I was eight years old.
Martin: Hey, that's the one shaped like a snowman, right?!

Frasier: I guess I'm just going to have to bite the bullet, sit Frederick down on Saturday before the game and tell him the truth. It's not a conversation I'm looking forward to but I should prepare him for the fact that his daddy's not going to be hitting any grand slams on Saturday. ... Or am I? Wait, a grand slam is...
Martin: You aren't.