Matthews: Wha…what happened?

Albert: …

Matthews: I was having a beer at the Copper Monkey one second, and then…nothing. I just want–

Albert: (Raises a finger to his lips. Um, the place where his jaws come together. Whatever that is. There.)

Matthews: What do you want from me?

Enter URBAN MEYER.

Meyer: Shane, I only want you to do what is required of you.

Matthews: I…I don’t understand. I just pointed out that in the Ole Miss game they played man-to-man the whole game, and that we didn’t take advantage of it, and–

Meyer: Shhhh…Shane. You understand the present and the past, Shane. But now…to the future.

Matthews: These are chafing my wrists. I have a show in 45 minutes, Coach. Now, I’m sorry you took offense to what I said, but they pay me to tell it like I see it. What are you doing with that bottle of water and rag, I–

Urban: I want you to understand this. The thing I have for you here is the worst thing in the world. It goes beyond fear of pain or death, it unendurable, and it varies from person to person. In your case, it is your opinion being drowned out by others.

Shane: No…NOOOOOOO—mRRPHHHGGHHHHHH

Urban: Shane, there will be no loyalty, except loyalty towards the Gator. There will be no love, except the love of the Gator. There will be no laughter, except the laugh of triumph over a defeated enemy, unless it is Auburn, and we don’t get to work on that for a few years. There will be no art, no literature, no science that does not proclaim the name of GATOR or his only son TEBOW across the land. There will be no curiosity, no enjoyment of the process of life. All competing pleasures will be destroyed. All that will remain is the word GATOR.

Urban stops pouring the water. Matthews chokes, gags, coughs, and screams.

Matthews: WHY? Let me go, I’ll do anything you want, just do let me drown.

Urban: It’s just a taste of what awaits you in Seat 37F if you ever dare to criticize so much as a hair on my program’s proverbial head.

Pours water a second time, allows Matthews to breathe after 15 seconds of the treatment.

Matthews: THIS IS TORTURE!!!

Meyer: No, it’s not. It’s love. I’m just trying to protect our program, Shane. Also, I prefer the term “Facially Administered Tracheal Aquamassage,” Shane. And it sounds like your lungs are still a little tense, and could use some more treatment.

He pours more water. “Orange and Blue” plays faintly in the background.

(ps. This is slightly old cheese anyway, as it echoes previous statements Meyer’s made regarding criticisms of the program, fits right in with his Woody Hayes-ish tetchiness, and happened last week.)

Hallo! And welcome to Play4Brew.com. Coach Brew’s plan for success is for the players at the University of Minnesota to get their degrees and graduate from the University. In order to do this…I…

Can you hear me? Really, tell me if you can. Make some kind of sign. I’m…I’m trapped here. I don’t know how this happened. I filled out an application, and then ten minutes later I’m in this little box reading this schpiel about Minnesota football academics with a flashlight pointed at me, and now I don’t even know what day it is.

Food comes through a slot three times a day. I have a bucket for my personal needs. I haven’t had any human contact for days now: the light just comes on whenever anyone visits the site, and then I have to read this script with this smile on my face. If I don’t, they turn the hose on. If I do, I get to sleep for ten minutes, unless someone else clicks on it, and then oh jeez here we go again–

—and Coach Brewster has hired two of the nation’s top academic compliance officers to help Minnesota be the best academic institution…

Help me. Please. Someone help. Oh god the light’s coming on again STOP CLICKING FOR GOD’S SAKES—