"Letting the champ take the first shot," he says, as if it's a terrible idea. "Alright, kid, it's your funeral."

With a beanbag in hand, Hopper steps forward and lines up his throw. It's actually a pretty decent shot, though not perfect, and he narrows his eyes before taking a step back and sweeping his arm toward the game as an indication for Beverly to take her turn.

"Okay, second to the middle," he says of his own throw. "Not bad, but I bet you can do better."