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Looking sharp, Mom.
Hey, are you subbing today?
Bobby, you know I am.
You left me that message that they want me to sub for Italian.
Uh, no...
I wanted an Italian sub for lunch.
Well, I'm all dressed up.
I guess I could just shelve books at the library
till they throw me out.
Oh, dang it.
Says here because of high produce prices
schools are yanking vegetables from their menu.
Man, first they get rid of the organic garden, and now this.
What is it with this school and vegetables?
Organic garden?
What organic garden?
The coaches try to keep it under wraps.
You see, the kids who want to get out of gym class
can work in the garden instead.
I just wish
I'd found out about it sooner.
Then I wouldn't have take the Presidential Fitness Test.
You'd rather work in an organic garden
than participate in the Presidential Fitness Test?
Where's your patriotism, boy?
I hate doing the flexed-arm hang in front of everyone.
They call me T-Rex because my arms can't support my weight.
Bobby, the flexed-arm hang...
I know, I know...
Could mean the difference between life and death.
Doesn't matter anyway.
Mr. Tomich is retiring and the garden is closing.
End of story.
So, as you can see
and smell,
I am a very gifted gardener.
Sorry, Peggy, but we're not looking to replace Mr. Tomich.
See, nobody really needs an organic garden.
The football team, on the other hand,
could use more storage space for their blocking sleds
and old, broken helmets.
Nice punt.
I tell you, this team's got something.
Not like last year.
Runts almost got me fired.
What if the garden was working for the football team?
Football? I'm listening.
My husband read in the paper this morning
about the veggie shortage.
This team needs their vitamins.
How do you expect them to make it to State
without iceberg on their hamburgers?
If you put me in charge
I will provide the team
with the freshest vegetables in Heimlich County.
Tell you what, Peggy,
I'll give you a shot.
You do okay, we'll talk permanent.
And make sure you grow kale.
That new quarterback we got loves kale.
Hey, Dad, want to see me? No.
But you don't know what I... No.
Say hello to Tom Landry Middle School's
newest organic gardening teacher.
You saved the garden?
Way to go, Mom!
Mm-hmm. And now it will be supplying fresh vegetables
to the football team.
Organic garden?
That's what hippies eat.
When was the last time you saw a hippie
that could take on an offensive tackle?
Oh, who cares?
Hank, organic gardening is terribly inefficient.
It's a full-time job.
It could be my full-time job.
Good morning, class.
I am your new gardening teacher, Mrs. Hill.
So, this is all of you?
Uh-huh.
Okay.
Oh, this looks ripe.
Let's get to work.
Work?
Mom, you're embarrassing me.
Mr. Tomich did everything himself.
Sometimes we picked stuff.
Mostly we just sat around and whatever.
Well, there will be no "whatevering"
in Mrs. Hill's garden.
Mmm. So that's why people eat fruit.
Mmm...
Boy, look at those jumping jacks.
This is the year, I tell you what.
Hey, Mom, why are we bringing all of this up to the field?
So the cafeteria cooks can't steal our glory.
Coming through.
Make room for tomatoes so juicy
you'll want to eat them with a lifeguard.
Organic goodness.
Straight from Mother Nature's womb.
Uh, h-hey, look over there.
Who's got a stopwatch?
Let's check out the hang time on that punter.
Hey, Hank, that's some fine-looking produce
your boy's got there.
Yeah, maybe it'll give them enough juice
to get off their butts and hustle!
Huh, I guess this stuff does look pretty good.
Looks a lot better than that got-dang special teams!
Can't catch a punt to save their lives!
Good work, kid.
You know, I got to admit, Peggy,
this stuff looks so good
I might have to became a vegetarian.
Not really.
Look sharp, Bobby, it's the coach.
That's a heck of a good-looking berry.
Keep up the good work, son.
"Keep up the good work, son."
Yep, that's what the coach said to Bobby.
And then when Bobby set out those organic onions
it was like he caught a 32-yard pass.
What exactly
are you trying to do, Hank?
Turn our school into some sort of
bohemian Montessori love-fest?
No, it's not like that.
It's not like the organic gardening they did at Jonestown.
It's more like farming.
And you should have seen the size of the crops.
I tell you, for a bunch of gym-dodgers,
these kids did a pretty decent job.
Well, I guess I'm going to head on in
and watch some of the Home and Garden network.
It's Compost Week.
Bobby and I are thinking of making a batch for the team.
Dang it, now I've got compost fever.
Me, too.
Maybe we could pitch in.
Great idea.
Now we need to find some leftover food,
lawn clippings, dead leaves and coffee grounds
that have been left to rot for a long, long time.
Just for the record, there is a garbage can in there somewhere.
You know what would make this baby sing?
Bat guano. Nature's Miracle-Gro.
Where do you buy bat guano? Sears?
Yes. But it lacks
the potency of straight- out-of-the-bat feces.
Nope, we have to go right to the source.
Mano-a-guano.
"Gold Bar summer squash."
Mmm.
Ah! Mom, come here!
Look at all these bugs.
Oh.
Mrs. Hill, Spencer told me to tell you
there's some weird fungus on the turnips
and I saw some snails near the lettuce.
I already stepped on one.
It was pretty cool.
Oh, God. We have to feed these to the football team today.
Why did I promise them
a field of greens?
Die! Die! Die!
Hey, everybody, the cavalry's here.
Bobby, show the coach
what kind of ammo
you've got for our troops today.
Oh, you know, just more of the same.
What the hell happened to this carrot, son?
I wouldn't feed it to sixth grade J.V.
Oh, this is terrible.
Got anything else for the team to eat?
An old hubcap?
A wadded-up newspaper?
Peggy, I got to tell you,
my job would be a lot easier if you weren't feeding worms
to the football team.
I got to call this garden thing off.
No, you can't do that.
Oh, man.
I was practically on the football team.
Now, hold on, Carl.
Can I remind you
of the time the school board wanted to fire
a certain principal for growing a ponytail?
Well, Hank, that was a long time ago.
A lot of us said, "Yeah, he looks like a jackass,
but he deserves another chance,"
and that's all we're asking for.
You got two weeks.
Hey, Coach, I don't feel so...
One week.
Don't worry, Peggy,
we'll turn that garden around.
I have never seen a problem teamwork couldn't fix.
"Aphids. Worms."
Why does every book about organic gardens
have naked people in it?
Well, this one has three chapters on Nixon
and nothing about bugs.
So when they say "Mother Earth"
they mean dirt, right?
I'm not sure, but wait, listen to this:
"Snails are attracted to the smell of beer.
They will follow the scent, fall into the beer and drown."
Just like Judy Garland.
Okay, here we are.
What a... uh...
great-looking group of kids this is.
This isn't all of them, is it?
Uh, so how many of you have ever tried out for a team?
And how many of you have ever been picked for a team?
Uh... okay then.
Well, I'm forming a team.
The Garden Team.
And you're all my first-round draft picks.
All right! I'm playing for my dad.
With your permission, I'd like to lead us in a cheer.
Give me a...
Permission denied.
Now, if we're going to be a team,
we got to play together and give it all we got.
So let's get in there and show these bugs we mean business.
Last call for beer, you little garden munchers.
You don't have to go home, but you cannot stay here.
Now, supposedly these milk cartons
will help protect the base of the plants from crawling bugs,
"which are all beautiful in their own way."
Queen Amidala,
I will save you from the Dark Side.
If there were more than one garden team,
we'd be in last place.
Quit screwing around, guys.
And forget about Queen Amidala and the Dark Side.
Who's saving these cucumbers from aphids?
Boy, it's true what they say about the Denton Flea Market.
You really can get anything there.
So how much guano have you collected so far?
None. But I've been feeding it bugs and prunes
and massaging its colon for the past two days,
so the flood gates are about to open.
Build an ark, boys.
We're going to need more bats.
Andrew,
how many times do I have to tell you,
the weed puller is for...
pulling weeds.
Oh, good job.
Dang it, Rain, I don't think your extract of hippie
is going to help our garden.
Actually, these are ashes from our wood stove at home.
They discourage slugs and cut worms.
Rain, you have just earned yourself
a high five.
Come on, don't leave me hanging.
Hank, why isn't this working?
Damn it, these bugs are eating my career.
Peggy, I had my doubts about this whole organic thing, too,
but if the old gardening teacher
pulled it off, then so can we.
Look at these kids.
They're actually working as a team.
Slow down, Tommy.
Save some water
for the plants.
Mr. Tomich
I don't know how you did it.
I tried every organic trick in the book.
Soapy water, pepper spray, tobacco, cotton balls,
pecan shells, ladybugs...
and I got jack.
How about Methyl isothiocyanate?
That wasn't in my organic gardening book.
What is it?
A very powerful pesticide.
Just be sure not to get any on your hands.
But... but the whole point
is to teach kids about organic gardening.
That's why you don't tell anybody.
Oh, my God, you grew a garden of lies.
Yes, and tomatoes the size of your cranium.
Look, if you want to keep your garden and your job,
you got to use pesticides.
What do you think is keeping termites from eating this deck?
Love?
Dad, look at the size of this one!
If Gallagher smashed it,
it would reach all the way to the back of the room.
You see, Peggy, you didn't have faith, but look at his place.
Is there anything beer can't do?
Uh... uh-huh, you're right.
I know this stuff is for the football team,
but it just looks so good,
I'm going to have to try a sample.
Hank, no! No!
It... it's for the football team.
And don't touch your eyes.
According to the nice lady
at the Flying Mammal Society,
this bridge is home
to more than 30,000 bats.
Even if half of them are constipated,
it's still a gold mine.
Oh, man, got dang ol' P and ol' U, man.
Oh, God, it's awful.
The floor is slippery.
That's a good sign.
Boomhauer, get ready.
I think I hear something.
Yes!
Picking up...
Uh-oh.
Oh, God, we've awakened a sleeping, pooping giant!
I've got a bat in my mouth!
Listen up, team.
I just wanted to tell you all
how proud I am.
You've overcome the elements, the bugs
and God knows, your own limitations.
I got heat stroke.
Look at this.
I thought it was a tumor,
but Mom said it was a callus.
And since you guys are working like a team,
I figured it's about time you looked like one.
Yep, team jerseys.
Bobby, you keep up the good work
and I might have to sew a "C" on the jersey
for Captain.
Oh...
All right, team.
Early bird kills the worm.
Peggy?
What?! What?!
Peggy, what are you doing?
Well, I... I was just vacuuming?
That's a skull and crossbones sticker.
It says, "Warning: poison."
All right, I've been spraying pesticides.
But, Peggy, this is an organic garden.
Using chemicals is the only thing you're not allowed to do.
Oh, come on, Hank.
How else do you think it was able to grow so well?
You mean it wasn't us?
The team?
And I already thanked God for a bountiful harvest.
He must think I'm an idiot.
Well, I had no choice.
You can't get anything good without chemicals.
Chemicals are what keep my hair so high and brown.
Hank? Hank!
Screw helping the football team.
If they want guano,
they can crawl through hell getting it like we did.
I had to burn my favorite Levis
and a hat that was perfectly molded to my head.
Step right up, man.
Get a little ol' guano just like them dang ol' Egyptians, man.
Gonna change your life, man.
Jus-just guaranteed to be fresh too, man.
You, sir,
why are you afraid to take the guano challenge?
Are you afraid it might rock your world?
Coward!
So Principal Moss pulled the plug on the garden.
The football team is moving their blocking sleds
over there next week.
Good. I'm on a gotdang mailing list
for an organic food store now.
To think I shopped at a place called Passages.
I guess the garden team has one more game left, huh, Dad.
Harvesting the last crop.
There never was any garden team.
This was just your mother,
the cheater, spraying her cheater juice
all over the place.
No, it wasn't.
We worked hard on that garden.
Who knows what we really did.
It's like we all got caught using steroids.
The only honorable thing left to do
is forfeit and get off the field.
What are you doing, Bobby?
The garden team's dead.
We should just set fire to the whole thing
and watch it burn.
We planted this garden,
and we worked hard to make it grow.
Now, there's one more harvest left,
and the snails are going to have to go through me to get it.
He's open.
He's open!
He... Gotdangit!
Oh, look who it is... Hippie Hill.
Hey, Granola, what's your boy doing in the garden over there?
Dang it, Bobby.
All right, I'll go make sure they're gone
before the football team
brings over their blocking sleds.
Keep it up, team.
It's the fifth quarter
and time's running out.
I know you're tired and sore,
but if we don't bring these vegetables in, no one will.
So keep picking till you can't pick anymore,
and then pick one more.
Try planting this.
It's raining pain.
Incoming.
They're coming. They always come.
My glasses.
Move it! Move it!
If there's something
in your way, run over it.
Get out of the way, garden dorks.
Why, Dad? Why?
I don't think so.
These kids have worked hard,
and this is what's going to happen.
They're going to harvest their vegetables,
you guys are going to eat 'em,
and then you're going to say thank you.
Move 'em, Hank.
These cupcakes don't belong on the football field.
You guys know I can play running back,
but I can block, too.
As I recall, Rick, you were a tennis player, right?
All right, come on, let's get back to practice.
We have been working on this garden for a week,
and I tried to resist, but...
Dad, give me a wheelbarrow ride!
Okay, quick, get in.
Can I help?
I've gone straight. I swear.
I'm done with chemicals.
I didn't even use any shampoo
or soap or deodorant this morning.
Smell me.
You can help step on beetles.
But I got to warn you,
the ones that survive the poisons
are really tough.
Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org
Is there anything Beer can't do?