This is the fifth installment of the "Sooner Disrespect Chronicles." For background, please read the previous installments:
SCENE: The Sooners are gathering for a team photo at the 50-yard line of Owen Field at the Gaylord Family Oklahoma Memorial Stadium.
LANDRY JONES: (on his iPhone) ...so it's better to simply check down to the running back then?
SAM BRADFORD: Yep. Always better to make the safe play.
JONES: Gee, thanks Sam! It's sure nice to have a Heisman Trophy winner and No. 1 overall NFL draft pick giving me advice!
BRADFORD: No problem, Landry. Us Oklahoma quarterbacks need to stick together.
JONES: You mean like Josh Heupel and Paul Thompson?
BRADFORD: (quickly) WE DON'T TALK ABOUT THEM ANYMORE.
JONES: Oh. Sorry.
BRADFORD: Anyway, now that you're running the show down there in Norman, there's an added responsibility for you. A responsibility that isn't necessarily stated in your scholarship agreement.
JONES: I'm confused. What do you mean?
/locker room door flies open
JONES: Holy hamburgers! Sam, you'll never guess what coach...
BRADFORD: (interrupting) Safari hat and lantern?
JONES: Uh...yeah. How did you...
BRADFORD: Have fun!
BOB STOOPS: Boys! Boys! Gather ‘round! I have urgent breaking news that I need to share with you, news that could very well shape the future of our season...nay, of our LIVES.
/team gathers 'round, taking a knee
TRENT RATTERREE: What is it, coach?
STOOPS: Damn, Vidal Sassoon, you still play here? I thought you graduated three years ago or something.
RATTERREE: Nope. Still here, coach. Actually only a junior.
STOOPS: A junior, huh? Well then you can go be junior lieutenant in charge of washing my car.
RATTERREE: What? Why?
STOOPS: Why? THAT KIND OF SOUNDS LIKE DISRESPECT!
FRANK ALEXANDER: (somehow now standing immediately behind Ratterree) WHAT?!? DISRESPECT?!?
RATTERREE: (quickly distancing) No no no! No disrespect! I'll get right on it, coach!
/Ratterree exits for parking lot
/Alexander goes back to super-frustrating Rubik's Cube
STOOPS: Anyway, gentlemen, I'm here to tell you that last night, I had a vision.
JONES: (excitedly) A vision? Of us winning the championship? That would be awesome!
STOOPS: CAN I FINISH ONE DAMN SENTENCE WITHOUT YOU DISRESPECTING ME, LAUNDROMAT?
/Alexander cocks back arm to throw Rubik's Cube at Jones
JONES: (cowering) Ack! Sorry! I'll be quiet!
STOOPS: So, my vision. I was lying in bed last night in my Barry Switzer footy pajamas, staring at the replica of the Sistine Chapel that Frank so nicely painted for me...
ALEXANDER: I PUT BRIAN BOSWORTH AS SAINT PETER!
STOOPS: (patting Alexander on the head) You sure did, buddy. So I'm lying there, and all of a sudden...gosh, it's so hard to relive...all of a sudden, I saw a ghost.
/Demarco Murray faints, is out for 3-6 weeks
STOOPS: It was terrifying. It hovered over me and was all spooky and crap. I think I had a heart attack. Or indigestion. One of the two. BUT IT WAS SCARY.
RATTERREE: (yelling from the parking lot) That sounds terrible, coach!
STOOPS: Keep scrubbing, replacement Jonas Brother.
/Ratterree goes back to scrubbing
STOOPS: I couldn't sleep for the rest of the night, but I've decided to go on the offensive. I watched some show called "Ghost Hunters" on SyFy. They actually go out looking for ghosts. That's what I want to do. THAT'S WHAT BIG GAME BOB IS GOING TO DO: GO ON THE GHOST OFFENSIVE.
JONES: That sounds like a savvy plan, coach. But how are you going to catch him?
STOOPS: Glad you asked, Lando Calrissian. I decided the best thing I could do was use my memory to sketch the spirit. That way, we know what we're looking for.
/pulls out a sheet of paper
STOOPS: Now, this is not for the faint of heart. Brace yourselves. If you're weak of heart, you should probably turn away.
/Ryan Broyles covers his eyes
/Stoops turns sheet over
JONES: Um...coach? I mean no disrespect...
/Alexander perks up from this week's copy of American Maiming
JONES: ...but that looks like Utah State coach Gary Andersen. Suspiciously so.
STOOPS: You're kidding! But...but...but...
ALEXANDER: BUT WHAT, COACH?
STOOPS: ...but that would mean...that Utah State is...is...
ALEXANDER: IS WHAT, COACH?!?
STOOPS: ...is disrespecting us.
ALEXANDER: RAWWWWR! DISRESPECT! FROM A WESTERN ATHLETIC CONFERENCE INSTITUTION!
/tears down own goalposts, rifles one into the air, taking down a 747 carrying puppies to orphans, still isn't ejected
STOOPS: I can't believe that the Utah State coach would DISRESPECT me by dying, haunting me as a ghost, then using some machine like the live-action movie Casper with Christina Ricci to reincarnate himself!
/burns down a library
JONES: I can't believe it either. In fact, I don't believe it.
/everyone turns to Jones, stunned
JONES: Now I remember. I remember how Sam spent all of that time trying to keep the team from falling for your elaborate stunts to feign opponents' disrespect.
STOOPS: Stunts? Whatever do you mean?
JONES: No more. (Turns to team) Guys, look at us. We're a group of astounding young men who are tremendously talented at football. We're ranked as high as No. 7 in some polls. We're a dark horse to win the national championship. We shouldn't need any motivation through some bad-90s-movie-starring-a-sneaky-hot-actress-from-Black Snake Moan-inspired lies. We should have all the motivation we need, especially to beat someone like Utah State.
STEPHEN GOOD: Landry's right, guys!
STOOPS: (puzzled) Who are you?
GOOD: I'm Stephen Good.
/Stoops stares blankly
GOOD: ...Preseason All-Big 12 lineman?
/Stoops looks at Alexander, who shrugs and continues to take a Big Brothers/Big Sisters of America kickball game far too seriously
GOOD: ...New protagonist to replace Jermaine Gresham?
/Stoops scratches head, shoos Good away confusedly, turns to Jones
STOOPS: Listen, Landfill. I know what I saw. I would never...[turns toward scoreboard] OH MY GOD LOOK WHAT THE GHOST DID.
ALEXANDER: RAWWWWWWWR! DISRESPECT THROUGH GHOSTLY GRAFFITI!
/runs to Logan, Utah, pummels university president Stan L. Albrecht, vandalizes Utah State student union
/fails to see irony
/still isn't ejected
STOOPS: What an unbelievable turn of events!
RATTERREE: (from parking lot) Coach, my fingers are getting all pruney.
AUSTIN BOX: So, really, nobody's going to mention my reverse-racism-caused injury?
JONES: Jesus. When's the Arena Football draft?