Potter: Happy, the ball has its own energy or life force, if you will. Its natural environment is in the hole. Why don’t you send him home? His bags are packed. He has his plane ticket. Bring him to the airport. Send him home. [beat] Send him home.
Happy Gilmore: I’ll send him home. It’s time to go home, ball. [putts; ball doesn’t go in hole] Son of a bitch ball! Why didn’t you go home?! That’s your home! Are you too good for your home?! Answer me!