Southpaw

& Angela: Because we’re about to see Leila, I want to know what kind of shape you’re in.
    Billy: I’m a fuckin’ mess. When can I see my daughter?
    Angela: And you think I should let you see your daughter when you’re a fuckin’ mess?

& Tick: We start tomorrow.
    Billy: What, like training?
    Tick: No, baking cookies.

& Tick: Stop punches with your face... that’s not defense.

& Billy: Wait, he’s not gonna be hitting anything or I’m not gonna be hitting anything?
    Tick: You’re not gonna hit nothing. You work on your defense.
    Billy: Like, don’t hit anything? Like with my glove?

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& Tick: You’re supposed to be able to protect them, you know? These kids coming up in here, I’m telling them a bunch of stuff that’s bullshit. It’s bullshit. «It’s gonna be all right.» «You can control your destiny.» «You could control this, you could control that.» You can’t control shit.

& Tick: What the fuck, man? What is this? What kind of, what kind of shit is this? God must have some kind of plan to teach me some kind of lesson. I just can’t figure out what it is.

& Announcer: Well, Hope’s fans would say it wouldn’t be Billy if he weren’t bleeding.

& Tick: Don’t let him get into your head. Don’t let him take this from you. You got one shot. Go southpaw. Go southpaw on his ass.

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