Tin Cup Page #4

(finally)

It is about gaining control of

your life, and letting go at the

same time.

Molly stares back, exhausted and intrigued.

MOLLY:

Jeez Louise...

TIN CUP:

There is only one other acceptable

theory of how to hit a golf ball.

MOLLY:

I'm afraid to ask. What's the

other theory?

TIN CUP:

Grip it and rip it.

MOLLY:

While I appreciate your poetic

sensibility, Mr. McAvoy -

TIN CUP:

Call me Roy, Molly...

MOLLY:

Call me Dr. Griswold...

MOLLY (CONT'D)

Roy... but at this point I think

I'm more of the 'grip it and rip

it' school. Hand me the driver.

Tin Cup does. She tees it up.

TIN CUP:

Waggle it, Doc, don't forget to

waggle.

(as she stares at

him)

Waggle... the club head...

(shows her)

... it's a little relaxing

ritual...

She waggles the club head, then takes the club back.

10.

TIN CUP:

Let the Big Dog eat!

She stops, lets the club fall.

MOLLY:

What Big Dog?

TIN CUP:

The driver, the number one wood -

MOLLY:

It's metal.

TIN CUP:

Yeah, woods are metal -- don't

worry about it -- and the driver's

known as the Big Dog and I'm just

saying to turn him loose, let 'er

rip, let the Big Dog eat!

MOLLY:

Oh.

She swings. Tops the ball. It goes ten feet.

MOLLY:

This is, without a doubt, the

stupidest, silliest, most idiotic

grotesquery masquerading as a game

that has ever been invented.

TIN CUP:

(cheerfully)

Yes, ma'am, that's why I love it.

(beat)

And if you hit one good shot -- if

that tuning fork rings in your

loin -- you can't wait to get

back.

She cracks one dead solid perfect out into the night. It

felt great and she knows it.

MOLLY:

I think the Big Dog ate something.

TIN CUP:

Did the tuning fork ring in your

loin?

MOLLY:

I wouldn't go that far.

TIN CUP:

Always quit on a good shot. We'll

call that lesson number one...

11.

(confidentially)

... and if ya wouldn't mind paying

me in cash -- there's a little

I.R.S. situation I'm dealing with

MOLLY:

If you're such a legendary striker

of the golf ball as everyone says,

then why are you, at your age, out

here in the middle of nowhere

operating a barely solvent

establishment, ducking the I.R.S.,

collecting a few pathetic dollars

to buy your next sixpack -- when

you're capable of so much more?

Her speech is delivered without judgement or rancor, so

matter of factly that he's disarmed.

TIN CUP:

Perhaps I'm chocked full of inner

demons?

MOLLY:

No, you're chocked full of

bullshit -

(cheerily)

Same time next week?

She heads off to the parking lot. He stares.

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