Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

I can still fucking see you, Mini-Me!

They'll make great school board presidents.

Connolly, get your ass back on the kit.

Faster. Faster.

But is there a line?

You're rushing. Here we go.

So for the final father-fucking time...

TRY ME YOU FUCKING WEASEL

Trombone, bar 24. The and of two.

I go to Fordham.

I told you about how Charlie Parker became Charlie Parker, right?

That's your idea of success?

Were you rushing or were you dragging?

...whose Mommy left Daddy when she figured out he wasn't Eugene O'Neill.

What are you doing?

- Well, hey, listen-- -I mean, come on.

Okay. Well, I guess maybe I'll see you guys there.

Connolly, get your ass back on the kit.

- Good morning. -All right.

Do you think that I would let him put my son through hell...

Yeah, that's my boy.

Hey. Don't fucking touch my folder, man.

Hey. Come on. Please, come on. You're still open.

You just tell that little fucking redhead I'll-- I'm gonna be there, okay? Fuck.

Hey. Hey. Sorry I'm late.

All right, let's get to work, ladies.

- I gotta get my sticks. -No, stay away from the car.

My dad says that I have-- I have trouble making eye contact.

Bye. I'll see you later. Bye.

All Connolly ever was to me was incentive for you.

I'm gonna keep pursuing what I'm pursuing.

- He just laughs. -So how's the drumming going, Andy?

What the fuck you doing?

Five, six, seven...

then why the fuck didn't you say so

- I need to look at the music. -it's right here.

Perfect, Connolly. -Oh, my God.

Tune the set to B-flat, then turn my pages.

Yeah. Well, I don't know. He saw me play today.

Bob Ellis on the drums.

If your ass is not on that stool with your own sticks in hand...

But the truth was that he barely squeaked in to begin with...

Okay, maybe a bug flew in my ear.

Okay, why don't you just tell Fletcher that I'm coming, you motherfucker?

Jackson, congratulations, you're fourth chair.

Yeah, I mean, it's not for everybody.

One and two and...

Five, six, and...

Cool. Okay, well...

And I would stop you from doing that?

Now we're gonna slow it down a little bit.

To make sure Terence Fletcher is never allowed to do this to another student.

...from ever becoming Charlie Parker. -No, man, no.

Yeah. It's all right.

You never earned anything. You are a self-righteous prick.

- I'm upset. -Louder.

Why do you you suppose I just hurled a chair at your head, Fergie?

Everybody remember, Lincoln Center use these competitions...

...whatever, now might be a good time.

I need the music. It's my memory, I need visual cues.

Bob Ellis on the drums.

Start practising harder, Neiman.

- He didn't do anything. -What is wrong with you? It's over, okay?

Cool. Okay, well...

One, two, one, two.

About jazz, my charts. Because of that, you're gonna start to resent me.

No, I applied to a bunch of schools, Fordham let me in.

Don't you know I would never let that happen?

I was there to push people beyond what's expected of them.

I left them in the car. I'll be right back. Five minutes.

And his opinion means a lot to you, doesn't it?

Four words you will never hear from the nfl

Bar 17, the and of four.

I'd give anything to be there again this fall.

That's been your problem the whole time? The desk height?

Not quite my tempo. Connolly.

Hey, look, you-- I can play these charts.

All right, everybody, from the top.

- Are you driving, man? -No.

Yes, you are upset.

When did you become a fucking expert on what I can do...

All I wanna do is give you both a crack at it, all right?

- Answer! -Rushing.

- Trav got named this year's MVP. -That's fantastic, Travis.

Now, was I rushing or was I dragging?

That there is nothing in the world more important to me than you?

...or are you gonna be on my fucking time?

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

Don't worry about Fletcher. He's more bark than bite.

I'd give anything to be there again this fall.

Why would you do this to me?

I believe that is...

We're gonna stay until I find a drummer who can fucking play in time.

I do not intend to start losing.

And I've thought about it a lot, and this is what's gonna happen.

Not quite my tempo.

...than good job.

...like a fucking 9-year-old girl.