Beverly: Can't you just get past it? He's your family.
Coach Mellor: You sound like Mama, God rest her soul.
Beverly: You mean..?
Coach Mellor: She died doing what she loved, though. Frog squats.
Beverly: Coach, does your brother have any idea what he's done to you?
Coach Mellor: That's what Mama asked me, right before she did that last ill-advised rep that sent her to the final cool-down in the sky. Oh, Mama, why'd you have to crush it so hard?

Coach Mellor: Goldfarb! Wheel it in. Time for a private huddle. I'm going to put this delicately, kid. You smell like a gym sock's butt.
Adam: Uh, thanks.
Coach Mellor: You smell like a garlic diaper.
Adam: Thanks?
Coach Mellor: You smell like egg salad left in a humidifier.
Adam: Thanks.
Coach Mellor: I assume you don't notice because you live with that stink 24/7.
Adam: Oh no. I smell it.
Coach Mellor: There's half a Speed Stick in my desk. It's yours now. Be liberal with it. Coach is on your team, here. It's why I pulled you aside to avoid embarrassment.
Adam: I guess I would have preferred you pulled me aside just a little farther.

Murray: So, is this what you're doing for money?
Coach Mellor: For now. Turns out there's not a great demand for a phys-ed specialist in the middle of the school year.
Murray: I don't mean to tell you your business, but I don't think that's the right address.
Coach Mellor: It is not. I lost my 3.
Murray: You know, I know my wife can get carried away with things, and I just want to let you know, I'm really sorry about all this.
Coach Mellor: Don't be. Your wife plays hard. I respect a winner. She's a good woman who does not know the word "quit". Although she does know the word "fired."

Mr. Glascott: Okay, everyone, welcome to "The Day After" emergency assembly. First of all, I just want to assure you that everything is gonna be okay.
Coach Mellor: It will not be okay! There's nowhere to hide in a nuclear winter!
Mr. Glascott: Whoa. (chuckles) What Coach means is that there could be a nuclear winter, but it definitely won't happen.
Coach Mellor: Till it does.
Mr. Glascott: Does not, because it was just a movie.
Coach Mellor: That will, for sure, come true.
Mr. Glascott: Look, I know a lot of you are scared that the President is gonna snap, push a button, and incinerate us all, but I assure you, it will not happen.
Coach Mellor: When it does, I'll be safe and snug in my fallout shelter while the rest of you mutants scrounge for cockroaches.

Coach Mellor: Why are you never this fired up in gym class?
Adam: 'Cause I'm a theater geek, Coach, not that you'd ever understand.
Coach Mellor: [blows whistle] That's a flag on the assumption.
Adam: Really? You like musicals?
Coach Mellor: Last month, my lady love, Ms. Cinoman, dragged me to a community college for an evening of theater. I had prepared myself for a night of misery, when out of nowhere, this troupe of cats came crawling down the aisle. They were singing, dancing, with their athletic thighs and their gymnastic voices. I wish I could remember what that show was called.
Adam: "Cats."
Coach Mellor: No, that's not it. It'll come to me.

Coach Mellor: I'm in way over my head. They want me to organize, make posters. They gave me a pen and a ledger. I don't know what to do with them.
Beverly: To record the donations.
Coach Mellor: Oh, no. I've been putting everybody's cash in a bag.
Beverly: Well, there must be thousands there.
Coach Mellor: I don't know. I'm a gym teacher, not a count teacher.
Beverly: You mean a math teacher?
Coach Mellor: I don't know. I'm not an English teacher either.

Barry: I can't believe it. My girlfriend just broke up with me.
Coach Mellor: I know. We all know. There were hundreds of your judgy peers watching.
Barry: What am I gonna do?
Coach Mellor: Come on. Bring it in for a two-person huddle. Let Coach give you a pep talk with his body.
Barry: [crying]
Coach Mellor: That's it. You soak that rayon shirt down with your boy tears until you feel the strength return.

Barry: Dude, look at the laundry basket! Is that one of those impossible-to-fold sheets Mom was tricking us with?
Coach Mellor: You mean fitted? I've danced with a few.
Erica: They're perfect.
Barry: You folded them? How'd you find the corners?
Coach Mellor: You don't find the corners of the sheet. The corners find you.

Coach Mellor: All right, that's it! You're outta here! [whistle blows]
Coach Nick: Did you just blow your whistle at me?
Coach Mellor: Yeah, I did! And according to the laws of coaching, that means you got to take a lap!
Coach Nick: No. You take the lap! [whistle blows]
Coach Mellor: How dare you blow your whistle at me in my gymnatorium?! You have no right!
Coach Nick: But I do. This is the Blare-X 2000, the Champagne of whistles, given only to college coaches. So, my whistle wins.
Coach Mellor: Anybody can get a whistle. What really matters is what's in here, and you and I both know I always give 110%.
Coach Nick: And everyone knows I give 111.
Coach Mellor: That's not possible! Everybody knows that 110% is the maximum!

Coach Mellor: Let's do it. Tomorrow, you'll be the team captain, and you can choose all your nerd friends first.
Adam: Sounds great, except for the part where you called us nerds.
Coach Mellor: Losers it is, then! Tomorrow, the hierarchy of the physical-education world will be turned upside down, and all you dregs, dipwads, and dweebs, rejoice!