Tin Cup Movie Poster

Tin Cup

Writers: John Norville, Ron Shelton

Director: Ron Shelton

Release: August 16, 1996

Tagline(s): Golf pro. Love amateur.

Producer: Gary Foster, David Lester
Executive Producer: Arnon Milchan
Associate Producer: Kellie Davis, Karin Freud

Stars/Actors: Kevin Costner, Rene Russo, Don Johnson, Cheech Marin, Linda Hart, Dennis Burkley

Music by: William Ross

Production Company: Regency Enterprises, Warner Bros.

Genre(s): Comedy, Drama, Romance

ID: tt0117918

Rating: R

Runtime: 135 minutes

Synopsis: A washed up golf pro working at a driving range tries to qualify for the US Open in order to win the heart of his successful rival’s girlfriend.

Declassified by Agent Palmer: 18 Holes with Tin Cup

Quotes and Lines

“Well, what the hell? You ride her until she bucks you or don’t ride at all.”

“First thing you must learn is this game ain’t about hitting some little white ball in some yonder hole. It’s about inner demons, self-doubt, human frailty and overcoming that shit.”

“‘F*ck.’ ‘Shit.’ These are highly technical golf terms and you’re using them on your first lesson. This is promising.”

Roy “Tin Cup” McAvoy: “Well, I tend to think of the golf swing as a poem. The critical opening phrase of this poem will always be the grip. Which the hands unite to form a single unit by the simple overlap of the little finger. Lowly and slowly the clubhead is led back. Pulled into position not by the hands, but by the body which turns away from the target shifting weight to the right side without shifting balance. Tempo is everything; perfection unobtainable as the body coils down at the top of the swing. There’s a slight hesitation. A little nod to the gods.”
Dr. Molly Griswold: “A nod to the gods?”
Roy “Tin Cup” McAvoy: “Yeah, to the gods. That he is fallible. That perfection is unobtainable. And now the weight begins shifting back to the left pulled by the powers inside the earth. It’s alive, this swing! A living sculpture and down through contact, always down, striking the ball crisply, with character. A tuning fork goes off in your heart and your balls. Such a pure feeling is the well-struck golf shot. Now the follow through to finish. Always on line. The reverse C of the Golden Bear! The steel workers’ power and brawn of Carl Sandburg’s. Arnold Palmer! End the unfinished symphony of Roy McAvoy.”

“When a defining moment comes along you define the moment or the moment defines you.”

Roy: Greatness courts failure, Romeo.
Romeo: You may be right boss, but you know what? Sometimes par is good enough to win.

“All right. A former paramour once ascribed my fluid sense of time to being born under the sign of Pisces. Something about floating through the universe.”

Roy: Listen, swami, your job is to teach me patience and humility, not to advise me on my love life.
Romeo: You can’t ask advice about the woman you’re trying to hose from the woman you’re trying to hose!

Molly: You’ve got a beautiful swing
Roy: I’m a beautiful guy.

Molly: I find him mildly attractive when he’s obnoxious and arrogant like this —
Romeo: Good. ‘Cause it’s his best side…

Molly: Is this normal behavior for him?
Earl: The word ‘normal’ and him don’t collide in the same sentence too often.

“Then there’s the 7-iron. I never miss with the 7-iron. It’s the only truly safe club in my bag.”

Roy: You’re the Mexican Mac O’Grady. Figure out why I’m shanking…I’m catching it on the hosel? Moving my head? I’m laying it off?
Romeo: That, too.
Roy: I’m pronating.
Romeo: When you’re not supinating.
Roy: I’m clearing too early, I’m clearing too late. My swing feels like an unfolding chair!
Romeo: Alright, take all your change in your left hand pocket. Go on, do it. Now, tie your left shoe in a double knot.
Roy: Tie my left shoe?
Turn your hat around Shanks Tin CupRomeo: Right now Roy, do it! Turn your hat backwards. Turn your hat around. Do it, Roy! Take this tee and stick it behind your left ear.
Roy: Stick it… I look like a fool!
Romeo: What do you think you look like shooting chili peppers up Lee Janzen’s ass? Do it now or I’m going to quit. I swear to God. Good. Take this ball and hit it up the fairway. You’re ready.
[Roy hits the ball straight]
Romeo: You’re ready.
Roy: How’d I do that?
Romeo: Because you’re not thinking about shanking or Molly. You’re not thinking. You’re looking like a fool, and you’re hitting the ball pure and simple…
Roy: Fuck you.
Romeo: Fuck me, huh? Well, you’re cured.
Roy: That’s it?
Romeo: Yeah, that’s it. Your brain was getting in the way.
Roy: That’s hardly ever been the case.
Romeo: No shit, Sherlock.

Roy: Get drunk?
Romeo: Yeah, you always play better when you’re wasted.

“Tempo is everything. Perfection is unattainable…”

“Golf and sex are the only two things you don’t have to be good at to enjoy.”

“Another driving range pro, it’s all we needed. It’s heroes that I need. Not obscure driving range pros.”

Roy: You don’t think I can knock it on from there?
Commentator: Let’s just say it’s a low-percentage shot.
Roy: Well, so am I! I mean, look at me, all right, what I’m wearing. I mean, I’m playing for Rio Grande Short-Haul Trucking, Briggs and Brown Sanitation, First State Bank of Salome, Woody’s Smokehouse… You think a… you think a guy like me bothers to worry about the percentages?

Molly: My problem is, I’ve never been with a man who went for it…
Doreen: Well honey, he’s your guy.”

Roy: I just made a 12.
Molly: You sure did Roy, and it was the greatest 12 of all time. No one’s gonna remember the Open five years from now, who won, who lost, but they’re going to remember your 12. My God, Roy, it was… It’s immortal…

“You think I learned anything?”

Roy: If I had it to do all over again, I’d still hit that shot.
Romeo: Man, you’d bury yourself alive just to prove you could handle the shovel.

Molly: You’ve come for therapy? Okay, look, Roy, you know, you really need to make an appointment. Because I have a client in a half an hour.
Roy: That’s enough time. Thirty minutes? Hell, I’m not THAT fucked up.

Roy: Greatness courts failure.

Earl: You the man, Roy. You are definitely the man.
Clint: The man needs a ride home.