Everett Flatch: [Shooter is coaching the team at a critical moment after Coach Dale was ejected] You think number four is gonna take their last shot, Dad?
Wilbur 'Shooter' Flatch: [Nervously] Yeah, probably... they been pickin' low all night. [Straightens up; he has the answer] Rade, let yourself get taken out! [Rade looks at Shooter, astonished.] Uh, Buddy, you drop down and take his place! [Buddy nods] Close that lane! [team breaks huddle]
[Buddy Walker steals the ball as he predicted]
Wilbur 'Shooter' Flatch: Time! Time! [Brisk and confident] Alright, boys, this is the last shot we got! We're gonna run the picket fence at 'em! Jimmy, you're solo right! Everett, Merle should be open coming around the other side of that fence! Now, boys, don't get caught watchin' the paint dry!
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