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A Scene From Inside The Switzer Center

All-everything linebacker Travis Lewis has his injured foot in an ice bucket.

Sooner Director of Sports Enhancement Jerry Schmidt ambles over...

How you feeling, big man?


Here you go...

Schmidt offers Lewis a cup of steaming broth.

Here's some Chicken Soup For The Toe, son.

This isn't soup.

Sure it is.

No. It's - ugh - it's vomit.

Well, sure... it's vomit now. But it used to be soup. Meundo, actually. I took a class at OKC Downtown this summer. Anyway, drink it. It'll toughen you up.

Bob Stoops enters.

How you feeling, Travon?

Um, uh... OK coach. I'm bummed. I hate to miss any time.

I know. You're a competitor, Tyrone. A leader. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Look, you're hurt a little bit. I get it. Some people might even call this is an "injury". But you know what, Tito? There's a difference between an injury and being hurt a little bit.

Coach, I broke a bone in my big toe.

Yup. The Hulka toe. I know. You have two of those, though, right? Anyway, I broke a toe in college. Played on it, 'course. I had them take some of the bone from my chin and graft it on to the broken toe...

So that's wha--

Button it, Popeye! I'm not taking that shit from a guy with a head flatter than a border town hooker's.


So here's the deal, Trevor. I've asked a specialist to come in and take a look to see if we can get you back on your foot a little sooner. We're preseason # 1. We need you, Tommy.


Meet Dr. Frog.

Man enters room with large hypodermic needle.

That's not a doctor. That's Coach Patterson from TCU!

No, no, no. This man here is a licensed, board-certified pederast.

Do you mean a podiatrist?

You say potato, I say pederast. Anyhoo, this man's one hell of a footologist. Best in the business. We needed a second opinion from a real doc.

But Coach Patterson's not a doctor. He's a coach! He recruited me.

Look, I see what's going on here. If you're gonna be a huge pussy about us using a large, unsanitized needle to pump you full of some unidentified substance Schmidt cooked up in his little Martha Stewart class this summer, then fine. Be that way. We'll just have to try another approach. Like freezing you in carbonite.

Freezing me? But I'm already icing my foot, like the trainer told me to.

Trainer!?! You're going to listen to a trainer over me and Dr. Frog, the world's foremost toe expert? Remind me to fire that trainer, Schmidt!

What? Why?

Because he's a Luddite who lacks vision! Listen, Traymondé, this carbonite freezing's genius! It's the wave of the future. We'll put you in perfect suspended animation, like Ted Williams' head, except for your foot, which will continue to receive treatment from Doc Frog over here. That way, the foot can heal and the rest of you will stay in perfect shape and be ready to return for the big game against Texas.

We're going to need you, Tyreke. Texas has actual coaches this year. Basically, you just get to take a nap for six or eight weeks and then play ball. How's that sound, Trent?

Uh. Yeah. Okay, I guess. But what about class?


So, listen. You wake up, we're on the Texas State Fairgrounds. We get you a Turkey Leg.

You want to graft a turkey's foot on to my leg?

Now that's just stupid, son! So stupid... that it may just be genius! What d'ya think, doc? Should we sew a turkey leg onto Trombone's foot over here?

*shakes head and mumbles inaudibly from behind surgical mask*

Hot damn! This guy really knows his sports medicine, huh?

Oh my God. You're not really going to--

No, no. Dr. Frog said it might work. But you'd become an unholy chimera, an abomination in the eyes of God damned to dwell forever in a macabre limbo between man and beast. Also, the doc's worried that while the slow mesquite-smoking process would make your leg moist and delicious, it would diminish your fast-twitch muscle response. We can't have that. No sir. Not against Texas.

Right, but...

Well, I guess we'll have to stick with Plan A then. The turkey leg is your thaw-out snack. You'll wake up, shake off the carbonite freezing effects and munch on some carny food. Next thing you know, you're running out on the field and whipping the Horns' asses. You might come down with hypernation sickness, but you'll get over it just in time to save the day. Look - this shit works. I saw it in a movie.

What d'ya say, son?

I don't think this is a good idea.

Think? THINK??? The University of Oklahoma didn't give you a full scholarship so you could think, Terrell! You're here to play football and participate in unauthorized, cutting-edge medical research. And, don't forget: you're also obligated to occasionally compliment my masculine jaw.

Oh, right. Your prominent jawbone is a handsome and intimidating physical specimen, sir.

That's more like it! So, here's the deal, Travelle. Patterson and I are gonna run down to the physics lab to steal a tank of liquid nitrogen. When we get back, we're freezing everything but your toe. In the meantime, I advise you to go number two because it's going to be a while before you get another chance. Understood?

Yes, coach.

Now, what d'ya say, son???

*gulp* Uh... Boomer?