Silvio shanks a shot off the tee. Tony gives him guff. Silvio, wearing an incongruous little straw hat, says he still has the coach on his mind. Mikey walks up to the tee. "We got fresh air, we got a beautiful day, we got sunshine, forget about that shit," Tony orders Silvio under his breath. "Thank God for golf some days." "I'm tryin' to concentrate here," Mikey snaps, lining up his shot; Tony watches him for a moment, then waits until Mikey's just about to swing before asking loudly whether Junior got any golf in down in Boca. Mikey crabs at him. Tony apologizes. Mikey lines up the shot again; Tony starts talking again. Mikey stands up straight and glares at him. I've never understood the big deal about a little talking on the tee; it's a game, for God's sake. But my mother once bitched at me because my shorts flapped in the wind and ruined her concentration, so apparently it bothers a lot of people. Whatever -- so Junior snaps at Tony to "let the man tee off? You yap worse than six barbers!" Mikey smiles victoriously; Tony smirks. Go to your rooms, both of you. Junior reminds Tony that if he had shut up during the game against Mountain Lakes, "you wouldn't have missed that fly ball." Tony glares at Junior, hurt, as Junior goes on to say that he "couldn't face [his] friends." In the background, Mikey swings. "Good, Mikey. Better," Silvio says encouragingly. "Whaddya mean, 'better'?" Mikey demands. Silvio tries to sound positive about Mikey's crappy long game; Tony stews silently. Junior tees off next, and of course Mikey calls out, "Whoa, Junior!" all suck-uppy little brother. "'Whoa, Junior' what?" Tony sneers, heading for the tee. "Uncle Jun's in the muff." "What?" Junior quavers, a look of genuine fear crossing his face. "Oh, did I say 'muff'?" Tony asks, laughing happily. "I meant 'rough.'" Silvio and Mikey laugh and elbow each other. Junior glares at Mikey, who shrugs all "I don't know what he's on about" and pats Junior's shoulder: "Good shot."
On the tee, Tony stands up and sniffs the air: "What's that smell? Did you guys go to a sushi bar?" "What the fuck's he talkin' about?" Junior asks nervously. Mikey shrugs. "I thought you were a baccalà man, Uncle Jun' -- what you doin' eatin' sushi?" Tony asks pointedly. (Baccalà is dried salted cod.) "You're fuckin' runnin' at the mouth, you know that?" Junior says, trying to sound commanding but not quite keeping the panic out of his voice. Tony picks up his club so that it imitates a penis pointing out from his waist and begins singing, "South of the border...down Mexico way..." Junior has had enough: "Hey, listen, my friend -- at least I can deal with my own problems! Unlike some I know." Mikey looks on with a satisfied smile as Tony asks what that's supposed to mean. "Take it however you want. Don't bullshit with me," Junior says threateningly. Silvio breaks it up by saying that they came to play golf, not to argue. Tony keeps singing, "South of the border...where the tuna fish play," and drives the ball.