Winning The Roy Files

So there I was, hard at it, doing my homework when my ma comes in.

Aw, Roy, that doesn't look like your homework.

But Ma, it's history homework for Hammo.

Ah, history. Gossip's fancy cousin.

Your assignment is to write the life story of a historical figure

-of your choice. I want...

-He wants...

BOTH: ..every fact, every figure, every single detail.

I don't know where to start.

What do I know about the woman who built France

or the man who invented hiccups?

-Why not try writing about the person you know best?

-Who's that?

-You. We're all a part of history.

-Ma was right, but did I really want

everyone knowing everything about me?

There are some things I wish even I didn't know.

My Da was very persuasive, though.

You know what he's like when he gets worked up about something.

Will whatever you're saying

-mean I have to have to stop reading this paper?

-No.

-Do that, then.

So I'm writing it all down, the life and thoughts of Roy O'Brien.

Cos these are The Roy Files.

Ah! Oh!

Did I get it? I got it!

What a boy! Roy!

You're a star, Roy!

-You are such a sap, Roy.

-What was that for? I was enjoying that.

You're such a loser.

Could a loser single-handedly win the junior skills challenge cup?

Well, you did, so yes.

If you must know, we've won loads of other stuff, too.

-And it's all going in the scrapbook.

-Short chapter, is it?

-Ha-ha, very funny.

-Face it, Roy,

beating you at anything is a cinch.

-Bed head.

-What?

-Sucker!

-See?

-Why are you being so mean?

It's not my fault your hair looks weird.

Weird? What do you mean, weird? It took me two hours...

-Hm, nice try, loser. But that is my move.

-He's right, love.

You are being a little mean.

And don't you think trying to beat an 11-year-old to breakfast...

It's a little childish.

-You always take his side.

-Aw, Becky, love, that's not true.

We all have our bad hair days. Don't be taking it out on me.

It's supposed to look like this. Argh!

I don't know. Those two are so competitive. Where do they get it?

-Those two? You can talk.

-What's that supposed to mean?

If I was to say snooker...

Yeah, you're on.

And wear a crash helmet because I'm going to crush you.

Oh, right.

I want you to hit this cue ball into that

pack of reds as hard as you can.

Oh, yes. Snooker.

It means a lot to my da.

I can tell he really wanted me to be good at it.

And I was. Maybe too good.

You were right. This game is brilliant.

Still, it was fun...to start with.

Great shot, son.

You two, keep it...

Tubbs O'Brien.

I don't believe it. It is you.

Talk about a blast from the past.

Clive "the Tornado" Butler.

We used to play in tournaments. Tubbs was the top dog in his class.

In his age group. Until I came along.

What was it, again? Oh, yeah.

Five whitewash victories in a row. To me.

Poor old Da. Never got the chance to be a winner.

Yeah, well, I think

you'll find my impressive collection of trophies would beg to differ.

See that?

Third place

at the first Young Scientist competition, back in 19...

HE MUMBLES

So I guess Roy doesn't pick it up off the floor, does he?

You see, I still do a bit of inventing in my spare time.

Don't get him started.

Yeah, I had the original idea for the, er,

for the pump-action toothpaste dispenser. Yeah.

Cookie-dough ice cream - that was me.

You're welcome.

I also developed an early version of Twitter...

using real birds.

Yeah, so your old man is a man of many talents and you, my boy,

were lucky enough to inherit two of them.

Firstly, you got my science-y brain.

But, Da, I nearly burnt the school down in science!

Hey, listen, don't be interrupting with your stories, OK?

And you also inherited my considerable snooker skills.

Are you challenging my boy to a match?

Yes, I am.

Fine.

We meet here next Saturday afternoon.

First to five frames is the winner.

The pre-match warm-up for our snooker game on Saturday afternoon

started a little bit earlier than I expected.

5 o'clock on Monday morning, to be exact.

Morning!

Ow!

What do you mean, morning?

What time is it? What's going on?

This, son, is your mortal enemy.

Now, I want you to spend 30 minutes every day staring into his eyes,

visualising his defeat and destruction.

Destruction?!

Yes, I'll explain everything while you're out running.

That's it, come on. Legs up.

Nobody told me winning was such hard work.

I was starting to think the losers had the right idea.

See the thing is, son, if something is worth doing,

it's worth doing well.

And thorough preparation is the key.

Thorough preparation?

You infested the whole house with flies. That's not thorough.

That's just disgusting.

You see, that's the curse of operating at an elite level.

Ordinary people can't appreciate the amount of sacrifice that's

needed to succeed.

So, Da, you know operating at an elite level?

I certainly do, son.

Is that what was going on when you

and the Tornado were medieval jousting on bikes?

Bill, what's he talking about?

Oh, would that I could understand the imaginings of a child, my love.

Da, we've got it on film.

Oh, right. Then yep.

That happened.

Things were getting right out of hand,

and by the time the big day finally arrived,

I'd had enough.

I hate snooker.

What?

Why?

It's no fun.

He doesn't want to play any more, Bill.

Yeah, but what about the match? I mean, it's the final frame.

Look at him.

He's miserable.

And he's having nightmares.

Right.

Do you really want him doing something that makes him unhappy?

No, no. No, of course not.

I'm really sorry, Da.

No, don't you apologise, son. It's all my fault.

You sit down there and I'll sort everything out.

So that was the end of that.

Or it would've been, if the Tornado hadn't opened his big mouth.

What do you mean, forfeit?

It means it's over.

You won.

Congratulations.

Tubbs O'Brien. Loser and a coward!

No-one calls my da a loser.

OK, he might've gotten thrashed all those times with the Tornado,

and sure,

he's never won anything else in his life, ever.

But that doesn't make him a loser.

You know, some might say, son, that technically it does.

Oh. OK.

Well, no-one calls me da a coward, then.

Don't even have the guts to take their beating like men.

Yeah!

All right, then. Let's finish the game.

-Roy?

-I'll be back in a minute.

CHEERING

You did well, son.

I was very proud of you.

But I think that we both learned

a very valuable lesson that day, didn't we?

You know, there are more important things in life than games.

Laura.

Wait a minute, you two know each other?

When we were young, Clive asked me out.

And you said no.

I had my eye on someone else.

Ah, well, that's how it goes, Tornado.

You've got snooker.

I got the girl.

It's all part of growing up, I suppose,

realising that winning silly games isn't what really matters.

Well, I can't argue with that.

Ooh!

You see, son, who needs games

when you're married to the most beautiful snooker in the world?

Woman! Woman! I meant woman.

I'll tell you what, if winning gets less important as you grow up,

somebody forgot to tell Hammo.

I told the other schools who took part in the competition today,

"I'd just like to say, tough, we win, you lose."

Because he's already ancient.

-Derek, it's Eric.

-Oh, it's you.

Ready to be annihilated? Destroyed by my superior tactics?

And he just keeps getting worse. Like when we had that school quiz.

-Derek, good to see you.

-Won't be good when you lose, though, hey?

-Hey? Hey?

-You never change, Derek. May the best team win.

I think you'll find that's me. I'm the best team.

I guess you've got to be team captain. Well, admit it, though.

It went to my head a tiny bit.

-Guacamole.

-Correct. Correct.

Let me tell you, though, being in that quiz was really exciting.

It's a dead heat between Ballyfermot and St Cedric's.

So, the team captains are going to have to go head to head.

What a moment, and it was all down to me.

Roy, you can do this.

Think about how much everyone will love you if you win.

Roy, Roy, massive head, massive face.

Catchy tune. Someone can have a hit with that.

Anyway, there I was with my eyes on the prize and my head

full of answers, but then my heart sort of had to get involved.

You have all done really well. You should be very proud of yourselves.

But, sir, we've got to win.

I know it's a cliche, but it's not about the winning,

it's about taking part.

But the leak got in St Cedric's computer suite.

If we win the quiz, we'll replace it like that.

I know that, Marcus, but if we don't win, we'll make do. OK?

They really need to win.

You know, Brian, I never really understood what happened that day.

Roy, you need to get this question right or St Cedric's

have won the quiz.

-OK.

-What was the name of the first dog in space?

-Erm.

He knows this. He's seen it on TV.

Everything was in place for you to snatch the victory

I so richly deserved.

-The school so richly deserved.

-The first dog in space...

Harry, the space dog!

That's wrong. It was Laika.

Don't tell Hammo, but the truth is, I knew the answer.

I could've won but I got it wrong on purpose.

But it wasn't Hammo I was worried about.

What would my team-mates think when they found out what I'd done?

You knew the answer? Why did you get it wrong?

-St Cedric's needed those computers.

-You gave the right answer, Roy.

Good man, Roy.

Yeah, winning is nice and it's always good to do your best,

but there are much more important things in life.

More important than winning?

Have you any idea what that quiz meant to me?

No hard feelings.

Yes, lots of hard feelings.

You've always been like this. Can't we forget the competitiveness?

-We are brothers. What would Mum say?

-Just you wait till Christmas.

I'm going to destroy you at Scrabble.

Believe me, destroy him, I did,

with an eight-letter triple-word score.

Once he saw my "backside" on the board, he blubbed like a baby.

ROY LAUGHS

That was my eight-letter Scrabble word, O'Brian.

-You're so childish.

-Me?

You're the one getting all worked up about silly board games.

For your information, it wasn't just silly board games.

I also won the family arm-wrestling smackdown.

See you at the Christmas rematch, Mother.

Plenty to think about when it comes to winning.

Keep to these simple rules and you'll be fine.

Winning is great but losing is a lot less work,

so it's not a bad option, and you don't need an award to be a winner.

Look when my Da married my Ma.

He didn't get a trophy but it did make him the winner.

Although sometimes my Ma says she deserves a medal for being married

to my Da.

And finally, there are way more important things in life

than winning, like being happy and...

-<

-Dinner!

-Exactly - dinner.

Good point, Ma. Speaking of which, see ya.