"Yeah, well, you haven't heard ours yet," Silvio grumps, adding in a threatening tone that his daughter loves playing soccer "very much." Artie tries to shut Silvio up, telling Hauser that Silvio's "just kiddin' about the offer thing." Hauser turns to see the girls just milling around and bellows that "nobody blew a whistle -- let's not get lazy out here, come on!" The team doesn't exactly snap into action, and as she turns away, Meadow sneers audibly, "Why don't you go fuck yourself?" "Excuse me?" Hauser yells. The other girls all "oooooh" appreciatively, and Silvio threatens to tell her father, but Hauser stops him with a dorky "this is my field" and orders Meadow to give him ten laps around the goals. "Whatever," she seethes, and he snaps all drill sergeant, "Make it twenty. Anyone else wanna mouth off?" Nobody does. Meadow begins a desultory set of laps. Hauser snaps, "Good!" and assembles everyone else for a keep-away drill; Artie and Silvio leave the field, looking over their shoulders at Meadow running and glaring at Hauser.
Boca montage. Tropical mandolin stylings. In a hotel room, Junior in his wifebeater and the broad in her pink fur-trimmed negligee cuddle and drink champagne. "Who would have ever thought we could have been this contented?" she sighs. "I did," Junior says, pouring Korbel. "As soon as I saw you, I knew." "You're a sweetheart. If only they knew the other side of you," Broad breathes. "They'd eat me for breakfast," Junior finishes. He tells her that he's "been looking at some real estate, some nice houses on the market," and maybe she'd like "somethin' bigger." She says she doesn't: "No, Corrado. This is our place. You know how long we been comin' here?" "Sixteen years," he says, "and every one of them good." Broad reaches under the sheets and asks, "How's Junior...Junior?" Oh, God. Shut up, woman. "He's catching some shut-eye," Junior tells her. Thank the Lord. Unfortunately, the scene doesn't end here. Broad tells Junior, "You're such a powerhouse," and goes on to say, "When you kiss me down there, you're like a great artist. You got a real instinct for it." Junior ponders this, then tells her to pass him the red peppers. She feeds him one, and she aims for "sexy and maybe sort of kinky" but takes a hard left turn at "annoying overkill." After stuffing each of her fingers into his mouth for him to lick, she snuggles closer and croons, "You know the thrill you give?" Junior, who seems to have gotten as sick of her turbo-vamping as I have, looks down at his glass and says, "Just keep it to yourself, okay, Roberta?" "Yeeeeeah...all to myself," she sleazes, making little riding motions in the bed. When he doesn't respond to her wiggling, she asks him, "Corrado? Why the big secret?" "About what?" he asks. "Oral sex!" she breathes. "What's so terrible about pleasing a woman?" Because it might inspire her to bust out the overripe Playboy-bunny routine at every opportunity, perhaps? Junior grouches that she always wants "to talk about everything." Finally, after a bit of dodging and weaving, he admits that "they think if you'll suck pussy, you'll suck anything. It's a sign a weakness, and possibly a sign that you're a finocch' [fag]." Roberta can't believe that: "A fag? That's ridiculous! How would the two even translate?" Good question. Junior just shrugs, "Don't ask me. I don't make the rules."