Barry: Coach, I want to be your athletic apprentice so that one day I can take your place when you climb that big rope into the sky.

Coach Mellor: Here. Take this. Training begins now.
Barry: [Air blows] Damn it, I broke it. Why do I have such powerful lungs?
Coach Mellor: No, it's a training whistle. You'll get the tiny, little ball that makes it work when you're ready.
Barry: When will that be?
Coach Mellor: Coach will know. Now let the physical education education begin. First up, drink this mix of celery and cod. Glug hard, boy. Glug hard.

Barry: In fact, I'm gonna go grab some shut-eye.
Pops: It's 6:30.
Barry: I'm waking up at dawn. Me and Coach are going on a 12-mile jog, then we're powering down a classic English breakfast.
Pops: Why?
Barry: He likes to start each morning with 5,000 to 6,000 calories. Bangers and mash, kippers, kidneys, boiled and fried potatoes, black and white pudding, three kinds of meats. His mom's British.
Pops: Seems like a lot.
Barry: She's a handful, but I like her. [chuckles] Anyway, off to bed.

Barry: Hey, guys, I really need your help. Each of you grab a leg and push. I ate nine bananas, but I'm still cramping up something nasty.
Murray: Damn it, you ate all my bananas?
Barry: I'm in real athletic pain.
Murray: Sit, Al. Nobody is touching those legs in those tiny shorts.
Barry: These are official coaching bottoms. Sure, they cinch up the bathing-suit area, but Coach says I'll eventually reach a healthy level of crotchular numbness.
Pops: For the love of God, take 'em off. You'll never have kids.
Barry: Gym teachers don't have kids. Their kids are the students they teach.

Coach Mellor: Seems to me you're implying that being a gym coach isn't good enough.
Murray: No, I think what you do is amazing. Just not for my son. You've seen your life. You get it.
Coach Mellor: Well, he may be your son, but he's my gym son.
Murray: That's not a thing.
Coach Mellor: Oh, it is.
Murray: There's no such thing.
Coach Mellor: There's no greater bond in the world than between a coach and his boy protege.
Murray: I think except for the bond between a dad and his actual boy.
Coach Mellor: Well, may the best father win.
Murray: Well, that's me. I'm his father.
Coach Mellor: And I'm his coach-father.
Murray: We're done here.

Barry: Show me some hustle! [whistle blows] Second place is the first place of losers. "Winning" spelled backwards is "gninniw." It's never okay to put butter on a doughnut! Champions are losers who forgot to give up! Sweat is the body's tears crying away the weakness! [whistle blows]

Coach Mellor: Damn you, Goldbergs. [voice breaking] You always know how to hit me in my biggest muscle. My heart. [sighs] Although my my biceps are nuts, huh?

Barry: But perhaps I can help. Come, my child. I see a beautiful, bubbly blonde. She loves shorts and the beach.
Bill Lewis: Oh, yeah, I like where this is going.
Barry: And she has a friend.
Bill Lewis: There's two girls?
Barry: Yes, three is company.
Bill Lewis: Hot damn. When do I get to meet 'em?
Barry: All you got to do is knock on their door.
Bill Lewis: I do?
Barry: They've been waiting for you.
Erica: It's "Three's Company," Bill. It's a popular TV show. He forgets what he watches, and he thinks it's the future.

Beverly: Erica, it's time to hand me the reins. This is the job for the Yentadex.
Erica: What the hell is that?
Beverly: Every yenta has a Rolodex filled with perfect matches for everyone they know. So buckle up, Bill. You're about to go on the ride of your life.

Erica: Oh, yeah? Well, I'll show you friggin' jerkuses how friggin' great I am at friggin' love when your dad's walking down the friggin' aisle.
Beverly: See, you don't even know that men don't walk down the aisle!