BOB STOOPS: (limping in on crutch, meekly) Hi guys.

BRADFORD: C-Coach Stoops? Oh my heavens, what happened?

/team gathers around Stoops

STOOPS: It was terrible. One minute, I’m writing prayer notes to cloister nuns, and the next… (swallows hard)…the next minute, I’m…I’m lying face down on the floor, with my ankle injured beyond belief.

FRANK ALEXANDER: (looking up from playing a far-too-violent rendition of the "stop hitting yourself" game with a helpless 8-year-old leukemia patient) WHAAAAAAAT? WHO DID THIS TO YOU, COACH?!? WHO DISRESPECTED YOU LIKE THIS?!?

STOOPS: I really have no idea, Franklin my son. Well…except for…

ALEXANDER: (still yelling for some reason) EXCEPT FOR WHAT?!?

STOOPS: Well…as you know, I have a lot of security cameras in my house. And…well, I think I captured the assailants on camera. Here…(pulls photo out of pocket)…take a look.

BRADFORD: (sighs) Coach, stop it. That photo is clearly pho…

ALEXANDER: Z-O-M-G THATZ TEBOW AND COLT MCCOY! THEY’RE THE ONES WHO DISRESPECTED YOU!

STOOPS: Is it them? But why would they do such a thing?

ALEXANDER: RAAWWWWWWWWWRRR! DISRESPECT!

/goes "One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest" on the leukemia kid, whose name is Steven, still isn’t ejected

GRESHAM: Coach S, I’m not sure that’s a real photo.

STOOPS: (dropping crutch, walking normally over to Gresham) Are you calling me a liar, Jordache?

GRESHAM: It’s Jermaine, coach. And no, I’m not calling you a liar…I just…I just think…

STOOPS: THAT IS REAL! I don’t even own Microsoft Paint! How could I do such a thing? That’s a little ridiculous, don’t you think, Johnson & Johnson?

GRESHAM: But coach…

ALEXANDER: (unusually calm) Jermaine, I think what coach is trying to say is that no longer will he (voice raises to full throat) TOLERATE YOUR DISRESPECT!!!

/pokes Gresham in the bad knee

/Gresham weeps silently

BRADFORD: But now you’re walking, coach…how are you…

STOOPS: Listen boys. We’ve sustained some serious injuries over the past week. Sad Sammy Brads over here is out for God-knows-how-long. Our tight end Jennifer Grabass is completely useless to us. And now I’ve been struck by a devastating injury to my ankle.

/skips over to the doorway

STOOPS: But luckily, we’ve got backups. Great backups. Guys that can lead the way.

BRADFORD: (suddenly feeling better about the situation) Yeah, that’s right! We do have great backups! They can lead the way!

STOOPS: That’s right, Navajo Joe!

LANDRY JONES: (standing up) Well, coach, Sam’s got big shoes to fill, and I’m at a distinct disadvantage because…well…I’m devastatingly white. But I’m going to do my best!

TRENT RATTERREE: (standing up) And now that Locks of Love finally took my donation, I feel like I can definitely help out in place of Jermaine!

BRADFORD: Yeah! You guys can do it!

STOOPS: What? No. What are you guys even still doing here? I thought I cut you. Go play with Billy Sims.

RATTEREE AND JONES: Aw man

/both sulk outside, with "BOOOOOOOOOOOOOMER" echoing through the hospital halls

/team looks around, confused

STOOPS: No, guys, I’ve gone out and recruited the best backup players that…um…savvy recruiting can…um…what’s another word besides "buy", Frankie?

ALEXANDER: (skimming through thesaurus) OBTAIN?!?

/eats thesaurus whole

STOOPS: Yeah, that’s it. Obtain. Boys…meet your new quarterback.

/door flies open

TOM BRADY: Hey guys. I’m taking time out of my busy schedule of playing for the Patriots and knocking up models before leaving them for even more beautiful models, so let’s hurry up and win this championship or whatever.

/pounds a Samuel Adams

BRADFORD: Coach, I’m pretty sure Tom Brady is totally and completely ineligible to…

STOOPS: And meet your new tight end.

/door flies open

KIMBO SLICE: Kimbo’s ready to roll, bitches.

BRADFORD: Now that’s just ridiculous. Coach, we can’t play with a mixed-martial artist. He doesn’t know anything about football!

/Slice pokes Bradford in the bad shoulder

/Bradford writhes in pain

/Slice and Alexander high-five

STOOPS: We can overcome this DISRESPECT, guys! BYU DISRESPECTED us in Arlington, and now it’s time to go beat Idaho State so we can get another shot at my assailants!

BRADFORD: (yelling) STOP IT!

/room, stunned by Bradford’s uncharacteristic outburst, falls silent

BRADFORD: Guys, c’mon! Injuries happen! It’s part of the game! But we can’t use that as an excuse to blame our coach’s fake injuries on Colt McCoy and Tim Tebow. And we can’t use that as an excuse to bring in the most bizarre ringers ever!

ALEXANDER: BUT…BUT…YOUR SHOULDER….HIS KNEE….DISRESPECT!!!

BRADFORD: It’s not disrespect, Frank. It’s football. Guys, we’re still a great team. We don’t need to constantly play the disrespect card! We’ve got great backups who can hold their own until we’re back at full strength. So what do you say? Can we end all this nonsense and just go play football?

/room, still silent, thinks

SLICE: (standing up, reading from script) I heard Tim Tebow, Colt McCoy, Bronco Mendenhall and that guy fromIdaho State all hate white people.

STOOPS: OMG HOW UNEXPECTED!

ALEXANDER: RAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRR!!! DISRESPECT!!!

/burns down every potato farm in Idaho

AUSTIN BOX: That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you guys!

TOM BRADY: Whatever.

/watches "Good Will Hunting" thee times, chugs thirty Samuel Adams

/door flies open

RATTEREE: Does this guy ever freakin’ stop?

BILLY SIMS: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMER!

BRADFORD: God, the Lions sound so good right now.