Best 9 quotes of Kendric Neal on MyQuotes

Coaching was hard. Being a detective is murder.

Gambling wasn't even about the money, was it? Not the action, not the bells, not the adrenaline, those were just add-ons. It was about the luck . . . the jouissance of gambling, it was pure, goddamned luck. The high holiest of holies.

He paused just long enough for me to know I was starting to bug him. I bug a lot of people, they usually do just what Sully did, make a show of putting down the important thing they were doing to go and do the unimportant thing I just asked, solely in the interest of getting rid of me. Sometimes I think the bulk of my societal interaction is annoying people. I wonder what that's doing to my psyche.

If I get all that money back in the accounts and then swear it off entirely, she'll forgive me. It felt good to repeat it, besides they'd just had an amazing weekend, she still had the hots for him, she still loved him passionately. Lingering underneath that thought, though, was the other one. You're playing with fire, you're playing with fire, (see above. Repeat endlessly . . . ) The idea that Hope would forgive him when she'd given him an ultimatum so absolute was laughable. She'd follow through on her word, alright, even if she regretted it, even if she laid awake at night the rest of her life wishing she hadn't, even if IT KILLED HER, she'd still do it. That was his Hope.

If you want to ruin someone's life, give them free money.

I get a little obsessive, it was my hallmark as a coach. I'm more effective when it gets personal and I tend to stick with a thing until it gets personal. I haven't been doing this that long but so far, knock on wood, I've never had to give up. There's something rewarding about it—when you grab that first slender thread that unravels the whole web. I just can't stand seeing anyone get away with something, and I'm dreading the first time I have to walk away from a case knowing who did it and why, but that there's nothing I can do about it. Amy's right to worry, I'm the world's worst loser, as several generations of junior high teams could tell you. I still mourn games I lost 10 years ago. I swear, I wake up sweating and angry over a pass-action I should have known not to call, I'm not kidding. It's not healthy.

My style isn't subtle, I know that. I'm sure in fact it violates all kinds of rules about interrogation and all that, I never studied the field. I'm not sure it would have helped anyway—some of the greatest quarterbacks of all time had unconventional styles, I think that's the way the world ought to work. You don't take a guy who's finding success and make him unlearn his style and do it the traditional way, it's encouraging mediocrity. Nobody ever knew when Randall Cunningham was going to get happy feet or when Favre was going to shovel pass a TD out of a sack. You train that stuff out of them and you take away that surprise. So I ask questions, I look for soft, spongy areas and push on them to see if the person cries out. It doesn't endear me to a lot of people, but I've got enough friends and I'm not looking for more.

Neely Thomas was used to losing. Compulsive gamblers learn how to handle it—his kids' college funds depleted, an ultimatum from his wife, his life near bottom—he was ready to unravel. But then a moment's inattention—checking the football scores instead of keeping his eyes on the road—and a traffic accident leaves an innocent boy dead. Now suddenly Neely can't stop winning. The punishment for his crime? How bad could this be? A winning streak so relentless it won't end until his lies are exposed and he's lost everything he loves.

We played a couple games of pool and shared a basket of fried shrimp and onion rings. He was a good player, but on long shots I noticed his hands shook. I hadn't noticed it before but his motor control was clearly damaged; sometimes he'd go through several positions to arrive at the one he wanted, as though he had to sneak up on it. “I used to be a better player,” he said quietly, and I thought about what it must feel like at his age to say something like that. We hugged each other goodbye and I don't think it was just the tequila. I think he'd finally started to trust me and let me in past the front door. That was the last time I saw him.