[Scene: A muggy August night, 2011, Downtown Kansas City, 7:55 pm. Coach Paul Rhoads walks slowly down the block, comparing the addresses on the run down storefronts to the one on an ornate, Burnt Orange invitation that he carries. Finally, he sees a door bearing the address that matches the one on his invite. The dingy oaken door has the word "Bevo's" scrawled across it in chalk.]
(Muttering to himself): Guess this is the place.
[Rhoads knocks on the door eight times. The door creaks open slowly, revaling a long, tastefully decorated hallway. Framed photos of Big XII coaches line the walls, each with a year printed underneath. Most photos only contain one or two coaches, and some frames, such as 2005, sit empty. Each photo shows the coaches in various stages of eating what appear to be some of the largest, thickest, and juciest marbled slabs of steak ever to be carved out of a cow. Rhoads stops to admire the portrait labeled 2008, which shows a close-up of Mike Leach smiling as he tears into a thick rib-eye with his bare hands. Dark red juices drip from his chin.]
Hello? Is anyone home?
Over Here, Paul!
[At the end of the hallway is a swanky lounge. Bob Stoops and Mike Gundy lean on the bar, sipping cocktails and discussing the finer points of the 4-3 defense. Bill Snyder tells dirty Longhorn jokes to a bemused Mike Sherman as the bartender tops off their drinks. Art Briles waves CPR over to his table.]
Hey Paul, Glad you could make it!
Thanks. Mind telling me what the hell is going on here? The invite just said come to this address at 8:00 tonight, dress nicely, and to knock eight times?
(grins) Well Coach, let me be the first to welcome you to Bevo's. Home of the greatest steak you will ever eat.
So this place is a steakhouse? How come I've never heard of it?
Because it is home to a very exclusive fraternity. The society of Skull and Bone-in-ribeyes, if you will.
Is that Major Applewhite tending the bar?
It is indeed, sir. The University of Texas is required to supply the help for the evening, and this was cheaper than hiring an actual bartender.
The University? I don't think I understand.
I'd better let Bill explain it.
You see, Paul, the original commissioner of the Big XII was a huge BBQ nut. Absolutely crazy about high quality smoked meats. But due to his Big 8 ties, his access was limited only to the best cuts of meat in Kansas City.
See, what he really wanted was a big, thick, juicy Texas Longhorn beef to slather in his favorite Kansas City Barbecue sauces.
I'm not following you...
So when the remains of the SWC approached him after their breakup, he did what any red-blooded carnivore who hated Texas would have done. He demanded Bevo the Cow be killed, cooked and brought to him on a silver platter.
What? No way they wouldn't have agreed to that.
Actually, they jumped at the chance. They were so desperate to remain in a top tier conference that they signed the contract without reading it closely. Hidden in the labyrinth of by-laws is this little gem:
"Section 76.37.5, Paragraph M: Every summer, the mascot known as Bevo will be slaughtered and served to the Big XII coaches who beat Texas the year before."
We moved some money from the then-new ABC contracts around, and voila! Bevo's was born. We meet here once a year and... (he smiles broadly) fulfill our contractual obligations.
So you're telling me that the steak I'm about to eat was roaming the sidelines last year when we won in Austin?
That's exactly what he's telling you.
Would you like a drink, Coach Rhoads? I make a Major Appletini that is just out of this world!
Single malt on the rocks. Actually, make it a double.
I know it seems a bit strange, but it really is the best beef you will ever eat. I recommend the ribeye steak, but Stoopsy here always orders the porterhouse.
Fuck you, Bob.
I recommend the ribs. Insanely tender and they just fall off the bone. The sauce was Tom Osborne's old recipie, too. That man knew his barbecue. It's too bad he never got a chance to eat here.
Yeah, Tom was a big proponent of this tradition. He was there when it was written into the by-laws. It's too bad he never got to see this become a reality.
(Raises Glass) To Tom!
So you guys have been eating Bevo every year since 1996?
Well, not 2005 or 2009.
The years that Bevo Lived.... (Mike clenches his jaw and stares off into space)
...But yeah, every other year, at least one lucky coach has gotten to dine on the rarest of cuts. Of course, this is the first time we've had quite this many invites go out.
It really is the best beef you will ever eat. DKR Stadium Grass Fed, for the most part.
It'll make you feel like man.
Hell, I came out of retirement just to taste it again.
*Sigh* I'm going to miss it. I might as well head back to the league at this point. The next poor sumbitch to take this job and deal with the insane hypercritical zealots they call a "fan base" and go get crushed by Bama and LSU.
Of Course, Paul, you're going to have to go through the initiation this year.
Good point, and I'm getting hungry. Can we hurry this up?
Yes, very good. Come on everyone, we should let him get to it.
If you will please follow me, Coach Rhoads.
[Major opens a door, leading Paul through a sparkling white kitchen full of chefs theatrically sharpening their largest knives. He motions for Coach Rhoads to step into a walk-in freezer. Inside, he is handed a cattle prod and a large bowie knife. Major bows sharply, and exits the freezer without a sound. Paul looks up to see an angry BEVO standing in front of him. The two stare each other down in silence as we fade to black.]