Beverly: Do you realize how much better athletes are treated at what we were promised was an exclusive, elitist private school?
Barry: We did have it pretty good.
Murray: What are you talking about? You're not an athlete, unless they turned being a moron into a sport.
Barry: How dare you? I'm an Olympic-caliber sportsman who never got a chance to prove it 'cause coaches, teammates, umpires, and equipment managers were too intimidated by my dominance.
Murray: We can stop talking now.

Adam: I need you to turn me into an athlete.
Barry: Are you talking to me or God? 'Cause that's a tall order for either of us.
Adam: If I make it onto a sports team, I won't have to participate in Non-Athlete Senior Night.
Barry: Fine! Tell me the sport, I'll make you a legend.
Adam: Doesn't matter. You pick.
Barry: Well, I'd rule out anything that requires a bat, ball, mitt, racket, stick, club, coordination, endurance, desire, grit, strategy, physical contact, or a commanding voice for calling signals.
Adam: What's left?
Barry: Spring track.
Adam: In! What's the minimum I have to do to make the team?
Barry: I only know the maximum.
Adam: I don't need the maximum.

Beverly: Well, let's get it over with. I've got a 12-cheese calzone in the oven.
Vicki Bee: That seems like too many cheeses.
Beverly: You'd think, but somehow, more becomes indecipherably less. Hey, Brea's mom, if I give you my keys, will you run home and take it out for me?
Vicki Bee: Yeah, I'm not gonna miss my daughter's big moment.
Beverly: Big moment? She taps a balloon across a net. Oh, also congratulations, Brea.
Brea: Thanks. [chuckles] Sort of.

Beverly: Big whoop. Remember the time you re-created Moses leading his people out of Egypt with Legos and Kool-Aid? That was impressive.

Brian Corbett: Hey, uh, w-where'd the roses go?
Beverly: Got it. I've got it. Hello, jocks and sportos. Um, to use your lingo... [chuckles] we're gonna take a time-out so that my special player can honor me. Adam?
Adam: Oh, no.
Beverly: You came sliding out of me face-first, like a baseballer.
Adam: Did I die? Am I dead?
Brea: Unfortunately for you, no.
Beverly: Hey, Adam, why are you just sitting there? Bring your taut, athletic tushie up here and give me all the mother-loving roses.

Adult Adam: [v.o.] It was November 3rd, 1980-something, and while my sister's wedding day was a way's off, the events leading up to it were in full swing. At least, for the groom.
Geoff: Hi, my love. Can you spare me Saturday afternoon from who knows when to I have no idea?
Erica: I'm sure I'll survive whatever vague and loosely scheduled thing you're doing.
Geoff: It's tux shopping with the JTP. I'm gonna look like Cary Grant or that guy at the mall who plays the piano.
Erica: What's his story? How did he end up in front of a dead escalator?
Geoff: I'm okay never knowing.

Erica: But look at you. You're on it with wedding activities, tux shopping, groomsmen softball, camp friends spa day.
Geoff: It's actually not me that's planning all this stuff.
Barry: [enters] It is I! Geoffrey's and the world's best man and pre-wedding fun captain.
Erica: Captain?
Joanne: It's not an official rank, but his body is fit for service.
Erica: We should really keep that door locked from now on.
Barry: Silence! Just know that on Saturday, the man who's settling for you will be doing some high-octane tux shopping, which may include a rented penguin for maximum photo adorableness.
Geoff: No way!
Barry: Way. I have many friends at the zoo. And enemies. You know, frankly, it's touch-and-go.
Erica: As much as it pains me to say anything nice to you, you're surprisingly on top of it.
Joanne: True. For weeks, he's done nothing but wedding stuff and attending to my intense romantic needs.
Barry: Mm-hmm. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to see about a girl. A girl penguin. I know. Penguins can be girls. I didn't believe it either. Ta!

Murray: Face it, if Barry could hit a baseball like Mike Schmidt, wouldn't we love him more?
Beverly: No.
Barry: I can hit like Schmitty! Come out back and pitch to me, old man!
Murray: That doesn't seem like something that's gonna happen.
Barry: Touch my pec. Go ahead. Feel its shape and girthy weight.
Murray: I'm not touching your anything!
Barry: Mom! Dad won't recognize my natural abilities and physical prowess by caressing me!
Beverly: Cup your son's boy-bosom!
Murray: Do you hear your words?
Beverly: Fine. If you're not gonna help either one of your sons, then I will. [cups Barry's pecs] Very meaty, dear.
Barry: In your face.

Sydney: [cheers] # Dave Kim, he's our man # If he can't do it, no one can #
Dave Kim: What exactly can no one do that I maybe can?
Sydney: Win the Science Fair by simulating a wind turbine. Way to go, Davy. [kisses Dave Kim on the cheek]
Dave Kim: I don't know what's happening, but this is farther than I've gotten in my dreams.

Adam: I just don't want to go to this banquet.
Barry: Whatever the reason, you will be transformed from an undersized sack of soft garbage into an explosively high-performance muscular super jock.
Adam: Why exactly are you embracing this challenge with so much intensity?
Barry: To prove to Dad that I am such an elite athlete that I can even turn the weakest, scrawniest, and most pathetic among us into Dan Marino.
Adam: The Isotoner glove model? I didn't know he did sports.
Barry: Your training begins now! I'm gonna need gravity boots and a tractor tire. Let's go!
Adam: [scoffs] Here I come, I guess.