TJ: Last night, after practice, there was a fight in the locker room. Somebody throw a punch at Coach. I stepped in to try to stop it. That's how the blood got on my jersey. DB: Ok. All right. Thank you. Who throw the punch? TJ: Your son.
Henry: No more locker room laundry. I just went through 3 carts of dirty towels. This whole place smells like feet. Greg: Now it's going to smell like something else. And you might want to borrow Russell's incents. It's pretty ripe.