The Replacements
2000
Jimmy McGinty: That's the great thing about plankton. It pretty much keeps to itself.
Shane Falco: Pain heals. Chicks dig scars. Glory... lasts forever.
Shane Falco: I want the ball. Jimmy McGinty: Winners always do.
Jimmy McGinty: You know what seperates the winners from the losers? Shane Falco: The score.
Shane Falco: I wish I could say something classy and inspirational, but that just wouldn't be our style.
Edward O'Neil: Give me a cigarette. Jimmy McGinty: I quit. Edward O'Neil: Nobody likes a quitter, Jimmy.
Jimmy McGinty: Here's a list of people I've been keeping my eye on over the years. They've all played football somewhere, not all of them in the pros. But they all have something unique to bring to the game. We're gonna take those people and try to put together a winning team. If nothing else, they should be fun to watch.
Nigel 'The Leg' Gruff: Hey Shane Falco. I lost a ton of money on that Sugar Bowl disaster of yours. What a bloody shambles that was. You could smell the stink all the way back in bloody Wales. Shane Falco: Nice meeting you.
Jimmy McGinty: All right, Sentinels. Listen up. There are some who will say that your accomplishments today will soon be forgotten, that you're not real players, that this isn't a real team. And I say that's bullshit. Because as of today, you're all professional football players. You're being paid to play, and I want to you to remember that, because the men whose places you've taken forgot that a long time ago. Let's bring it in. Let's play some football.
Nigel 'The Leg' Gruff: (during the bar fight scene) Let's play football bitch!
John Madden: According to the Sentinels, it says Ray Smith is - hey, that's weird. No college given, no high school. It just says he's been a resident of the state of Maryland for the last two years and two months, and that he likes to embroider.
Jimmy McGinty: A real man admits his fears. That's what I'm asking you to do here tonight. Fears... lets talk about them. Clifford Franklin: (Clears throat) I'm scared of spiders, Coach.
John Madden: I love to see a fat guy score. Pat Summerall: Why? John Madden: Because first you get a fat guy spike, then you get the fat guy dance.
Clifford Franklin: Now you know this don't look natural Coach. now you know it don't... I look like I just jacked off an elephant.
Jimmy McGinty: You're looking at a 65-yard field goal here. Nigel 'The Leg' Gruff: You just hold the ball, Shane, and I'll kick the bloody piss out of it.
(Danny has tackled Shane during practice) Jimmy McGinty: Good hit. Danny, in practice we don't hit the guys in the red shirts. Daniel Bateman: I know, Coach, but I see that red and I just wanna go after it, like a bull, you know?
Shane Falco: You, ah, wanna come on board for a beer? Annabelle Farrell: Nothing personal, Shane, but I don't date football players. Shane Falco: I don't blame you. Not even quaterbacks? Annabelle Farrell: Especially not quarterbacks. You guys are the biggest babies of all.
Shane Falco: Why me? Jimmy McGinty: I look at you and I see two men: the man you are and the man you oughtta be. Someday those two men will meet, and it should make for one hell of a football player.
Edward O'Neil: I've seen monkey-shit fights at the zoo that are more organized than this.
Dawn: Oh my God. I forgot to tell you something. (long pause) Heather: Oh, she always does that.
Doris Horner/Wannabee Cheerleader: California oranges. Texas cactus. We think your team needs a little practice. Put 'em in a high chair, feed 'em with a spoon. Roll 'em up in toilet paper, kick 'em to the Moon!
Shane Falco: I think I'm just going to lie here for a moment and collect my thoughts. Daniel Bateman: Work shit out, right?
Heather: Is lap dancing a style?
Nigel 'The Leg' Gruff: That'll do, pig. That'll do. Jumbo: Screw you, Cockroach. Nigel 'The Leg' Gruff: I'll have to find your dick first.
Heather: (looking at team) Ooo. Yummy little monkeys.
Shane Falco: Red. Means Stop.
Jimmy McGinty: Like a duck on the pond. On the suface everything looks calm, but beneath the water those little feet are churning a mile a minute.
Shane Falco: (Shane parks his truck at the stadium and sees several of the former Sentinels approaching his truck) You gotta be kidding me. Come on Martel, I didn't park in your space. Eddie Martel: No, no. But unfortunately, you did park in La Mont's space. And he's not nearly as lenient as I am. Malcolm La Mont: On three fellas. One, two, three! (the former Sentinels tip over Shane's truck. Shane begins to walk away until Jamal and Andre step up) Andre Jackson: We got this, we got this. Jamal Jackson: Y'all wanna put the car back? Eddie Martel: Gentlemen, this is none of your business. Andre Jackson: Shane's our business. We're the guards. Jamal Jackson: And we protect our quarterback. (the former Sentinels all crack up laughing) Jamal Jackson: Oh, you got jokes. You got jokes. That's your ride right there, ain't it? (Jamal nods at a very expensive looking car) Eddie Martel: Yeah. (Jamal whips out a pistol and shoots at the car, leaving six bullet holes in the windshield) Eddie Martel: That's my windshield, you crazy mother... Jamal Jackson: Put the car back! Malcolm La Mont: Son of a bitch! Jamal Jackson: Son of a bitch? Oh, son of a bitch. Son of a bitch? Son of a bitch? (Jamal shoots the driver side window, shattering it) Eddie Martel: Stop, stop, stop! Come on goddamn it, help me! (Sentinels shove Shane's truck back over) Malcolm La Mont: You're gonna pay for that. Jamal Jackson: No I'm not. Stop messing with my man, and that includes his ride. Matter of fact, wax that muthafucka. Give it a tune up. (as if nothing has happened) Ya ready to go to practice Shane? Shane Falco: Yeah. Let's do that. Andre Jackson: What's that smell? Shane Falco: Wild yam. Andre Jackson: That's nice. That's nice.
Nigel 'The Leg' Gruff: Let's play football bitch.
Clifford Franklin: The football's like a one-man cold to Clifford Franklin. Clifford Franklin's the only man catchin' it, Clifford Franklin's the only man comin' down wid it.
(discussing fears) Shane Falco: Quicksand Clifford Franklin: Aw, shit yeah. Quicksand's a scary motha, man. I mean, first of all, it suck you right in, and even if you scream, you get all that muck in your mouth...
Jamal Jackson: The Mick's right. Nigel 'The Leg' Gruff: I'm not a Mick. I'm bloody WELSH.
Nigel 'The Leg' Gruff: (to the players on strike) Get a job, you wankers!
Pat Summerall: That's the second time tonight a Washington player's been knocked out by his own teammate! John Madden: You know, there's a rule in sports, "Don't do anything great if you can't handle the congratulations." Pat Summerall: There is? John Madden: Yep.
Jimmy McGinty: Hell of a game, that Sugar Bowl. What'd you lose that by, forty points? Shane Falco: That would be forty-five. Jimmy McGinty: Sometimes a game like that really sticks with you. You never shake it off. Shane Falco: Got three concussions to prove it. Jimmy McGinty: (chuckling) That's why girls don't play the game.
Shane Falco: You're playing and you think everything is going fine. Then one thing goes wrong. And then another. And another. You try to fight back, but the harder you fight, the deeper you sink. Until you can't move... you can't breathe... because you're in over your head. Like quicksand.
Clifford Franklin: (to a Dallas player) Clifford Franklin is looking for a new ho!
John Madden: I think that guy's smoking on the field. Pat Summerall: Smoking? I'm sure you're just imagining that, John. John Madden: No, no, I saw it. I saw the smoke and everything.
Nigel 'The Leg' Gruff: I'm wiry.
Jimmy McGinty: When the Washington Sentinels left the stadium that date, there was no tickertape parade, no endorsement deals for sneakers or soda pop, or breakfast cereal. Just a locker to be cleaned out, and a ride home to catch. But what they didn't know, was that their lives had been changed forever because they had been part of something great. And greatness, no matter how brief stays with a man. Every athlete dreams of a second chance, these men lived it.