Coach Mellor: Let's go. Look that ball in the face and catch it! No flinching!

Coach Mellor: Chaperones, we'll meet here at 8:00 A.M. sharp to hit the Hershey Highway before it clogs up. [laughter] All right, grow up.

Coach Mellor: Hey! Why you guys looking all shady right now?
Mrs. Mirsky: Nothing!
Vinny: No big secrets here.
Mrs. Kim: We're normal.
Virginia Kremp: All good.
Coach Mellor: Carry on.

Coach Mellor: [voice breaking] I'm just so glad to see this job is staying in the family.

Coach Nick: My God! You kids broke the five-minute mark! Who knew we had Olympic-level runners in our midst! Now we can take State!
Coach Mellor: Are you kidding me with this?! I told you not to be Rosie Ruiz!
Adam: In my defense, I didn't know you'd be here!
Coach Mellor: You cheated. Is that the thing you learned from me?
Adam: Why does it even matter? We're not your star athletes. You won't even remember us in 20 years.
Coach Mellor: Is that right? You think I taught at this school for the Ruben Amaro Jrs. of this world?
Dan: Being that he's gonna be a major-league player, yeah?
Coach Mellor: Okay, fine. He's a nice perk. But the real reason I do this job is to help kids who hate gym believe in themselves. Guess I inspired you to be nothing.

Coach Mellor: You boys are in luck. Not only are you being trained by a pickleball champion, but that champion happens to have his own court. Ha-ha!
Adam: Uh, you mean this sad dirt patch?
Barry: And the net's all broken.
Adam: You don't need a net. I don't know anything about pickleball, but I'm pretty sure you do.
Barry: It's, like, the only thing you need.
Coach Mellor: [whistle blows] Let's get to work.

Adam: Ooh! I brought the heat.
Coach Mellor: That's one spicy pickle, Goldfarb.
Barry: We did good work here today, Coach.
Coach Mellor: We really did. This is the first time since I escaped that compound by foot that I've felt anything but numb.
Barry: What happened there?
Coach Mellor: I'm not ready.
Adam: But I think I kinda am.
Coach Mellor: I say when you're kinda ready. You're ready. Kinda.

Principal Ball: Well, well, well. Look who came to dance one last pickle.
Coach Mellor: Hey, Mr. March, or should I say, Mr. March Your Ass Out of Here on a Stretcher?
Principal Ball: That was tortured. Like your forehand. I hope you got your hot dog ready, because you're about to be relish, my friend.
Coach Mellor: Bring the pickle!