Coach Finstock: There are three rules that I live by: never get less than twelve hours sleep; never play cards with a guy who has the same first name as a city; and never get involved with a woman with a tattoo of a dagger on her body. Now you stick to that, and everything else is cream cheese. Coach Finstock: What is it, gambling? Drugs? You know I'd really like to help you but I'm kind of tapped out this month. The IRS is coming down on me like it's some personal vendetta against Bobby Finstock. Harold Howard: I was hoping it might pass you by. Scott Howard: It didn't pass me by, dad, it landed on my face. Coach Finstock: Look Scotty, I know what you're going through. Couple years back, a kid came to me much the same way you're coming to me now, saying the same thing that you're saying. He wanted to drop off the team. His mother was a widow, all crippled up. She was scrubbing floors. She had this pin in her hip. So he wanted to drop basketball and get a job. Now these were poor people with real problems. Understand what I'm saying? Scott Howard: "What happened to the kid? Coach Finstock: "I don't know. He quit. He was a third stringer, I didn't need him. Stiles: Never say die. Coach Finstock: It doesn't matter how you play the game, it's whether you win or lose. And even that doesn't make all that much difference. Scott Howard: Listen, Stiles. Do you know anything about a rash that's going around? Stiles: Why, you looking to catch something? Scott Howard: No, I'm serious. Stiles: No... but I heard Mr. Murphy, you know, the shop teacher? Scott Howard: Yeah? Stiles: Got his dick caught in a vacuum cleaner.
[Rehearsing for the school play] Scott Howard: Sergeant, burn the fields and when you're done with that, burn the house. Scott Howard: I was with Stiles this afternoon. Harold Howard: I know. Scott Howard: You saw? Harold Howard: Yeah, I saw, unless that was another werewolf doing a headstand on top of Stiles' wolfmobile and making a fool of himself. Kirk Lolley: How am I going to put this to you? Uh... look at it this way. No wolf, mmm, no wolf, ahh, no part. What do you think? Mick: Shoot it, Fatboy. Scott Howard: These waves are mine. Dragons Basketball Coach: You want to forfeit the game? Coach Finstock: Yeah, what's wrong with that? Dragons Basketball Coach: No. Coach Finstock: No? Dragons Basketball Coach: My boys have league scoring records at stake. It wouldn't be fair to them. Coach Finstock: I just thought if we quit now, you could beat the 5 o'clock traffic. Dragons Basketball Coach: There's a lot to learn from losing. Coach Finstock: Hey, we'll play, if it's that big a deal to you. Mick: You don't scare me, freak. Underneath all that hair, you're still a dork, Scott. I've handled your kind before. Your mama used to steal chickens out of the backyard until I blew her head off with a shotgun. Right, Scott? Vice Principal Thorne: It's not going to well is it? Coach Finstock: Well, Christ, Thorne, look at the shoes on those guys. If our guys had shoes like that there's no telling what they could do. Scott Howard: [admiring himself in the mirror] You are an animal! Woo! Scott: (Deep devil voice) Give me...a keg..of beer.
