Necessary Roughness

Blue, 32!

Blue, 32!

Set!

Hut! Hut!

Hut! Hut!

Blue, 32! Blue, 32!

Set!

Hut! Hut!

Blue, 32!

Set!

Hut! Hut!

Right! Hut! Hut!

It's a touchdown! TSU wins|its third nationaI championship!

From champs to chumps.

The Texas State|Fighting ArmadiIIos

were the greatest coIIege team|in history; now, they're history.

The commission slapped Texas State|with a list of infractions,

including recruiting violations,|steroid abuse,

illegal payments to players|and, of course, grade tampering.

These guys' yearbook photos|could act as mug shots!

Joining us tonight is the legendary|Ed 'Straight Arrow' Gennero.

The man who sacked five players|for taking money but still won.

Thanks for joining us.|What's the Iatest on the ArmadiIIos?

The penaIties against Texas State|wiII set an exampIe.

And the pIayers?

The pIayers have been expeIIed,|and aII the coaches fired.

- WiII they get new pIayers?|- They must be reaI students.

No more schoIarships,|no more monkey business,

or eIse no more footbaII.

Mr Gennero, Carver Purcell,|President of Texas State.

l know who you are.|What can l do for you?

The commission came down hard|on us, and the heat in the press...

Now wait a minute. lf you want me|to go easy on you...

l'm offering you|head coach at Texas State.

- Nice show, Ed.|- Thank you.

- l'm finished with football.|- Total control. No pressure to win.

- Run a clean programme.|- Last time they fired me!

The boosters fired you.|We don't have them any more.

We need a man who'll bounce|a player if he takes money.

You need an image.

l'm offering you the opportunity|to show the world this can be done.

You know, your way? Think about it.

Get used to it!

This may be the biggest crowd|we draw all year!

The Cotton Bowl to the dust bowl!

l'm outta my mind letting you|talk me into this!

Building a team from an actual|student body? Mass suicide!

Good to see you, Wally.|Come on.

l thought you'd be pleased,|working together again.

Why should l be pleased?|l could coach my own team.

Coaching football|in London doesn't count.

lt was a good deal. With only|one personal hygiene class.

By the way, l understand|you're off the sauce.

Don't change the subject.|l shouldn't be second banana.

l'll give you free hand.|Stick to defence, offence is mine.

You're the big 'O',|l'm the little 'd'.

Don't start with me.

Your trouble is you bottle|things up, it's not healthy.

Something on my mind, l say it.

Sometimes it's best|to keep your mouth shut.

l suppose l should learn|to dress nice and kiss ass.

At least l'm not taking nitro pills.

- You tell Purcell about that?|- He didn't ask.

Good to be back, huh?

So what do you say?|Equal partners?

Hey...thanks.

Thanks.

This is Chuck Neiderman, the voice|of the Fighting ArmadiIIos!

This season, we need more|than your support.

If any of you can pass,|bIock or kick,

report to the gym at three o'cIock|for open footbaII try-outs!

Way to go! Come on!

- l like the cowboy.|- Have him!

You call yourselves Armadillos?|Sorry-assed civilian slime!

Screw you!

Sir. They didn't have this many|deserters in the Republican Guard!

- Are you all that you can be?|- Sir, yes, sir!

- lt's a little too much.|- Sir, yes, sir.

- Move it!|- Sir, yes, sir!

- Go!|- All right, all right!

Look at that kid.|Got the heart of a lion.

- And the legs of a chicken!|- lt's Charlie Banks.

The only player from last year|that survived the purge.

He was a walk-on.|Not a minute of playing time.

- Just one thing l like about him.|- What's that?

- He wouldn't quit.|- Just what we need.

Let's go!

Set!

Hut!

AII right, Popke,|show me the arm, son!

- Throw the ball, genius!|- Come on.

- Ready, Wyatt?|- Ready to go.

Set! Hut!

Sorry, Wyatt. l'll get there next time.|Good route, good route!

AII right, reIax and try again.

Set! Hut!

l thought you'd do one of these.

He stinks at two sports.

l can work with him. Just butt out.

lf you build an offence around|Edward Scissorhands,

we're gonna play|a hell of a lot of defence!

AII my exes Iive in Texas...

Paul Blake?

Looking for Paul Blake.

Come on, come on!

jAndaIe, pendejo!

- Guess you don't remember me.|- l remember you. Coach Riggendorf.

- Lo marcamos manana.|- Bueno, jefe.

l guess l made|a decent impression on you.

You were out here 1 6 years ago,|recruiting for Penn State.

Can we mosey over|to the bunkhouse?

How's the magic arm?

Good. Then it's rested.

As you never enrolled in college,|you can still play as a freshman.

Could've saved you|a 200-mile trip, Coach.

l know why you passed up on college.

Well, that all happened|a long time ago.

Aren't you the least bit curious|what you missed out on?

l made my peace with it.|l don't need to drag it all back.

l'm not asking you|to give up the Ponderosa.

- l'm asking you to go for the team.|- Team?

You don't have a team.

Hell, you're throwing those kids|to the wolves!

You expect me to get the sh*t kicked|out of me? What's that gonna prove?

Maybe you're right.

Maybe you should stay here|with your high school trophies

and wonder just how great|you might've been.

l'll tell you one thing...

...l never saw anybody|fire that football the way you did.

l can't interfere on this one.|Dean Elias calls the shots on education.

You might consider|kissing his ass a little.

l'd hate to lead him on.

l'm an old-fashioned dean, Coach.

Call me a stick-in-the-mud,

but l believe our function|is to educate and enlighten.

So do l. l couldn't agree more.

You should be congratulated|for having that team thrown out.

Well, thank you.

- l hope l won't have to do it again.|- l'm sure you won't.

Any member who doesn't make|the academic grade won't play.

- That's settled, let's have lunch.|- One moment, please, Carver.

Let me be straight.

l've always opposed schools|squandering limited resources

on a mind-numbing sport that|encourages corruption, barbarism.

Guess l won't be putting you down|for season tickets, huh?

He's funny, Carver. l like jokes.

- Now maybe we can have lunch.|- l'm busy.

l'm on a diet...and busy.

Coach.

- Dean.|- lt'll work out just fine.

- Ready? Begin!|- One, two, three, four!

One, two, three, four!

One, two...

Hut!

Go! Hit that hole!

- All right, good hit!|- Jog it back, come on!

They're always shouting.

Dean Elias! For someone who|hates football, you watch a lot!

Eternal vigilance is the price|of integrity, Coach Gennero!

What an a**hole.

- Like that move, Coach?|- Keep working, Edison.

Edison? Related to the guy|who made the light bulb?

No, bigger...as in Edison Library,|Edison Stadium, Edison Avenue.

- His old man?|- You got it.

Dean Elias?

Your office said l'd find you here.|My registration.

- You done with this?|- Yes, thank you...

Try that play again, son. Go ahead.

Did you hire an assistant coach|without telling me?

No. l got you a quarterback|without telling you.

l hope he gets younger|as he gets closer!

Give it a look, please?

Blake, tattoo somebody!

- Hey, over here!|- Move it, move it!

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