PHIL: Listen, ref, can’t you do something?
TERRY McAULAY: What would you have me do, exactly?
PHIL: You’ve got the flag in your belt. Throw it. Throw some laundry on this play.
JOE: What are you talking about?
TERRY: Sorry, Phil. I just don’t see a foul here.
PHIL: Aw, come on! Neutral zone infraction? If he lined up near the ball that thing would fall across the line for sure.
PHIL: Unnecessary roughness? To the animal?
TERRY: That’s not for me to judge. It might be faux.
PHIL: I’M SO SURE.
JOE: You don’t know my life.
JOE: Well, then, it’s vintage. BAM.
PHIL: Unsportsmanlike conduct, then?
TERRY: In what way?
PHIL: In the sense that nobody will even notice me standing here if he’s wearing that thing.
TERRY: Phil, I’m sorry. The rules specifically state that any Super Bowl held in the state of New Jersey can and should be treated as if it’s being played on the ice planet Hoth, regardless of the game time temperature. Hell, Jimmy Johnson was walking around with actual tauntaun guts packed inside his coat and you didn’t say anything.
PHIL: Well, I’m not with Jimmy. Listen, Terry. Don’t make me sic Greg Gumbel on you. He looks cuddly but he’ll floss your teeth with your jugular as soon as look at you.
TERRY: Sigh. Yeah, I definitely don’t want to run afoul of the Gumbel Machine.
JOE: This is boring. I’m going to find the Red Hot Chili Peppers. May the furs be with you, always. MIC DROP.
TERRY: Disgraceful. Let’s call that an illegal hit. Fifteen yards and fifty grand.
PHIL: I knew you’d see things my way.