Kay's Korner: Pardon the roughness, but it's necessary

This month CBSSports.com production manager Greg Cimilluca lends a hand analyzing the 1991 movie, 'Necessary Roughness.' Check in monthly for a new DVD Re-see column.

There used to be a time, maybe about 15 years ago, when opening a movie with a fake SportsCenter scene really screamed "whoa, this flick really IS all about sports!"

I'm pretty sure that day is gone, but boy, when I first saw Chris Berman interviewing coach Ed Generro in the first-non credits sequence of Necessary Roughness, the movie had this 10-year-old at the first sight of that blue and red set.

Sadly, Hector Elizondo has swapped his Texas State whistle for rum. (CBS)

If you haven't seen Necessary Roughness here's the basic premise: If you're 34 years old, you should pretty much kill yourself.

OK, there's more to it than just highlighting a gimpy Scott Bakula for 108 minutes. Like finding hilarity in the misfortune of a once-storied program, Texas State University (cough: SMU), by marching out a rag-tag bunch of walk-ons in the highly competitive college football landscape. Oh, the laughs a be a coming, Texas-sized.

Let me whet your appetite with one to get things started. Coach Generro and assistant coach Wally Rig, played by the legendary Robert Loggia (yes, that's R, as in Robert Loggia, O, as in oh my god! It's Robert Loggia ...) are holding open tryouts. Papke, an alleged quarterback, is asked by Generro, "show me your arm." Papke, misinterpreting the request, flexes, instead of firing off a pass. Hilarious, right? And it wasn't even written by a Farrelly!

Back to the premise. Generro is hired by Texas State -- whose president is real-life wannabee president Fred Dalton Thompson -- to run a tight ship and get the Fighting Armadillos up and going following the program's death-penalty like treatment. Apparently, running a Peter Carroll-ian program -- recruiting violations, steroid abuse and illegal payments to players -- doesn't fly in make-believe college football either. Kidding, kidding but CBSSports.com editor-Heisman-predictor and guru of all things Southern Cal Sid Saraf will tell me how he didn't appreciate that comment, which makes writing that nonsense worth it.

So, who is coach Generro? Why he's Golden Globe nominated actor Hector Elizondo.

Why you may remember Hector Elizondo: You may have seen Hector in such shows as Chicago Hope, Justice League and CBS' forthcoming Cane. I know him from his follicle-tomfoolery in Private Resort with a young Johnny Depp. Check it out, it has some good yucks in it. And lots of boobs, if you're into that sort of thing.

Concierge Cimilluca says: If he can turn a prostitute into a millionaire's bride, he is the man for the job! Oh, and it's Riggendorf, pal.

So that's your man hell-bent on fixing TSU. A Chicago-doctor-cartoon-policeman-sugar-cane-lord-low-level-mafia-angry-guy-out-to-get-Rob-Morrow's-character-in-Private Resort is our fixer of all things wrong in college football. Makes sense.

Good thing he has Robert Loggia on his side. Which brings us to the Law of Loggia.

What is the Law of Loggia? The Law of Loggia means any movie featuring the husky-voiced actor must introduce him with a scene in which he's yelling. Necessary Roughness doesn't just oblige by this law, it amends it.

"Get used to it Ed, this may be the biggest crowd we draw all year! Ha, ha, ha."

That line is uttered by Loggia's coach Rig in an empty stadium and his voice echoes throughout the cavernous concrete coliseum. It's like two Loggias for the price of one.

The introduction of Loggia's Wally Rig character essentially completes our coaching staff.

Movies vs. reality: Two coaches complete a movie football staff. Two Redskins coaches are responsible each week for maintaining Joe Gibb's Fantasy NASCAR team. Winner: movies.

Meet the marsupials

Now Generro and Rig need a team, and that means open tryouts. What we quickly learn is college athletics aren't worth squat without scholarship players. Here's what Generro and Rig find:

An ROTC guy
A short Samoan
A samurai
The star of the wrongfully cancelled show Arrested Development
A cowboy
A track star
An Australian
Charlie Banks

Let's talk about Charlie Banks. He's the David Eckstein of the group. A white guy with only one word on his resume: hustle. Well, that and the inspiration for Jake Gyllenhall's Brokeback character.

Let me explain. The team still needs a quarterback. Rig has an idea. He'll unearth Paul Blake, the greatest high school football player since Al Bundy.

Smart Cimilluca says: Hey, don't forget about Urbania town hero Kevin O'Shea. His name was on a water tower! La-di-da.

Rig's so enamored with Blake, he tells Generro, "I've never seen anybody fire that football the way Paul Blake did." You have to think Rig's seen a lot football's fired in his time, so I believe him.

Well Blake, being over every hill known to mankind at the age of 34, decides to give it the old college try. He shows up for camp and unleashes a Brett Favre-ian rocket to Banks. The pass has so much zip, Banks falls over catching it. The wee lad gets back on his feet, takes off his helmet and gives Blake the most "I want to rip off your jeans, jean shirt, jean jacket, jean underwear" look in movie history. If I'm up for the role of gay guy No. 4 in Under the Tuscan Sun: Whole Foods or Bust this is the look I want to perfect.

Seventeen players strong, the team is set. But wait, Eric, 17 players isn't enough to field a football team.

Think Ann Heche.

Ah, it is if you go both ways.

Ironman football. Just like high school. But we're not in high school anymore, we're in college, and that means an awkward first college moment for our favorite quantum leaper.

Anatomy of a first college experience

Dorm elevator door opens to students playing Frisbee: Check
Girl saying she can help you find your son, when you're really looking for your own room: Check
Walking past open dorm rooms and seeing weird stuff: Check
Guy standing around with only a towel on: Check
Having Crawl show you the ropes: Fail

During this sequence we run into Featherstone, our speedy wideout. Featherstone is played by Duane Davis, who sort of kept a monopoly on sports movies in the early 1990s.

Why you may remember Duane Davis: You may remember Duane Davis from such roles as Alvin Mack, the hard-hitting, tragically injured linebacker from The Program. You may have seen Duane Davis as the greatest underdog made good Buster Douglas in the made-for-TV movie Tyson. But if you're like me, you remember Duane Davis as Hambone Busby, the brother of the slain Slim Busby, and one of the vicious pugilists Louis Gossett Jr. faces in the underappreciated Diggstown.

IMDB.com Cimilluca says: I take his athletic on-screen prowess even further back to Beetlejuice where he spoke the famous line, "Hey coach, I don't think we survived that crash." And lest we forget Andrew Bryniarski's presence in this movie?

 

Now Blake just needs to find a tackle to protect his blindside and a fellow over-the-hill guy to relate to. And lo and behold, the celestial mechanics professor just happens to be Andre Krimm (Sinbad), the former Lincoln High star who just happens to have a year of eligibility left. He also lets Rig know, during his first sled drill, that he's not exactly all about steak tartar.

Krimmism I: "Andre does not eat raw meat. 'Cause Andre is a vegetarian."

Now, I never took celestial mechanics, or was aware of its existence, so I did a little homework. Apparently it's more than just professor Krimm's lesson plan of showing film reels of galaxies. According to Wikipedia, it's a science that goes back some 3,000 years and involves the study of motion and gravitational effects of celestial objects (stars, planets, comets). That sounds practical. Sort of like how my English/Film Studies degree sounds practical.

Early season roadkill

By now we've met most of the team and it's time to play some ball. And that means a game vs. the rival Southwest Texas Bobcats. Here's where we learn the playbook and find out coach Generro's playcalling style goes a little something like this: Run the same play three straight times.

How to scheme against the Armadillos: Keep an eye out for the play: brown right, 22 trap. It's their bread and butter.

Coach Cimilluca says: I smell the "Annexation of Puerto Rico!" This, uh, takes our Little Giants reference counter to two.

But leave it to Blake to defy Generro. He says good day to bread and butter and hello to chutzpah and lox. Instead of calling for the unsuccessful running play he throws a deep pass to Featherstone, who, for comedic and I guess plot purposes, drops the perfect ball. This sort of becomes his shtick. So much so, Rig ends up nicknaming the speedster Stonehands. Get it, his last name is Featherstone? Hands of stone? If you had hands of stone you probably wouldn't catch too many ... oh, never mind.

Blake gets benched for his defiance and while we never learn the final score, it's clear the Armadillos didn't cover the spread.

With the Fighting Marsupials feeling a bit down, the crafty and villainous Dean Elias (Larry Miller) sets up a scrimmage with another state-run institution. You see, Elias doesn't like football. He uses words like "barbarism," "corruption," and "mind-numbing sport" to describe football. Rachel Phelps only wanted to move the Indians out of Cleveland, Dean Elias wants to abolish Texas State's football program. Bad-guy/gal advantage: Elias.

Did you know Andre Krimm doesn't eat red meat? (Provided to CBSSports.com)

So it's time for a scrimmage, and boy has that conniving little dean gone done it. He brings in the finest from the Texas State Penitentiary system and well, it's not so much a scrimmage as it is a supervised 'Dillo destruction.

Anatomy of a "friendly" scrimmage

Convicts featuring last names like Butkus, Holyfield, Dorsett, Too Tall Jones, Rice, Kelly, Walker, White, Campbell, Craig and Davidson: Check
Convicts whaling on Texas State players: Check
Evander Holyfield saying "I don't feel so good, I think I swallowed a finger": Check Run more than one play: Fail
Not hitting the guy in the red jersey? Fail

The scrimmage is a success in Dean Elias' evil eyes, but it doesn't translate to on-the-field results. The Armadillos keep losing. Oh and 5, oh and 6, oh and 7 (but "this last one was a squeaker" at 35-12) and oh-and-8.

Rodeo clowns

Tensions mount in the lockeroom, leading us to our insult of the movie. It's delivered by Featherstone to MacKenzie, our Aussie Rules football convert.

Insult of the movie: "Hey, why don't you go bang a kangaroo!"

Keep in mind the edginess of that line. This movie came out in 1991, right on the tail end of the Aussie invasion. Paul Hogan was still penning Lightning Jack, Yahoo Serious was in between Young Einstein and Reckless Kelly and Nicole Kidman was just coming off the Oscar-nominated Days of Thunder. Also, boomerang sales in the U.S. were at their peak. Don't look up that last fact, I didn't.

Pained Cimilluca says: I still have nightmares about her attempted Bostonian accent: "Let me outta the cah Cole! Let me outta the cah!"

Also, boomerang sales in the U.S. were at their peak. Don't look up that last fact, I didn't.

So director Stan Dragoti putting that little jab in his movie was clearly, well, how would the Aussies say it? Could lead to some knifey-spooney if one's not careful. Speaking of Dragoti, this was his last movie. If you don't know who Dragoti is, maybe you should. He directed Mr. Mom, one of Dabney Coleman's finest, The Man with One Red Shoe and three other movies. He was also married to swimsuit gal Cheryl Tiegs. Not a bad dossier, but I wonder why he hung up the director's megaphone after Necessary Roughness. I'm guessing he just wanted to go out on top, like Ray Bourque, John Elway or Dr. Atkins.

With team chemistry deteriorating faster than you can say "Philadelphia Eagles '05," it's time to blow off a little steam. And there's no place better to do that than Billy Bob's ("the bar with its own indoor bull riding ring"). Apparently Billy Bob's isn't just a Texas State dive. It's also where the Texas Colts go for some bull-riding fun and to wear long-sleeve Texas state flag polo shirts. Yes, that's the la chemise du jour for Flattop, the leader of the nation's top team, the Colts. Played by former UCLA football player Tom Whitenight (he's actually on the board of directors of the Troy Aikman Foundation), he's our archetypical late-half of the 20th century evildoer. How do I know?

Flattop says: "If I wanted a big brother, I wouldn't have killed mine."

While a statement like that would freak the living beejesus out of me, you have to wonder ... how did this guy get admitted to play college ball after killing his older brother?

So Blake and the boys get into a little tussle with Flattop and the Colts. Lots of fists thrown, chairs broken over backs, players thrown through hanging pool-table lights, bartenders making phone calls like, "hey sheriff, yeah, it's Billy Bob's again," and one samurai going Larusso on a bunch of Colts.

Cimilluca on Dice says: Clearly the best use of Mano-y-mano is the paraphrased mano-to-mano by Andrew Dice Clay in The Adventures of Ford Fairlaine. "Mano-to-mano. What does that even mean. Mano-to-mano ... jerkoff!"

Speaking of the bartender. It's actor, stunt coordinator, former L.A. Rams and USC Trojans star guard Allan Graf.

Why you may remember Allan Graf: You may remember Alan Graf coordinating football scenes from such movies as The Waterboy, Any Given Sunday, and Jerry Maguire. I know Allan Graf as the other guy cleaning his bowling ball alongside The Jesus in The Big Lebowski and more recently as George Hearst's muscle Captain Turner in Deadwood. If you want one of the more intense mano-y-mano fight scenes in television history, do watch his brawl with Dan Dority in A two-headed beast, the fifth episode of season 3.

The cops eventually break things up and we learn a little something about the landscape of college football. That is despite the Aramadillos being on quintuplet-not-so-secret probation and most of the players on both sides of the fight under 21, no arrests, citations or nights in jail result from the fight. In Texas, when college football players throw down at Billy Bob's, it's just "blowing off a little steam," despite Dean Elias' plea to use any potential bad publicity toward disenfranchising the program.

There are women in this, right?

You bet there are. Beat up and bloodied, Blake goes over to his Journalism 101 (schmooze the news, as the kids call it) professor's house to get bandaged up. Professor Suzanne Carter, or as she's called in real life, Harley Jane Kozak, how do we say it? Ah yes, proceed to get it on. But before they do the horizontal mambo, we learn Suzanne, before spending time at Harvard and the Washington Post, was just a doe-eyed cheerleader at Pellican High School. That's the same Pellican that Blake torched for 420 yards ("in the air" we're told) and five touchdowns. It also led to Suzanne turning into Mommie Dearest mode. She would drive by his farm, call and hang up, cut his picture out of local papers and collect Blake's clippings from barber shops to turn into hair dolls. Well, not the last one, but she was a bit whipped.

Pre-coitus, we are also privy to a riveting debate about who gets less respect: female teachers or football players. They call it a draw, I guess. I sort of tuned out around here.

But there's nothing like Kathy Ireland to get me refocused. Apparently this whole time, the Armadillos were playing without a kicker. Coach Rig, being the outside-the-box thinker he is, figures it's about time to put the special in special teams. He recruits Lucy Draper, star of the Lady Armadillos soccer team, to try out for the kicking job. Turns out the ("bloody Sheila") can kick, nailing a bunch of extra points and what appears to be a 40-yard field goal. It also elicits one of the odder lines of the movie from Andre Krimm.

Kickers are a strange breed. (Provided to CBSSports.com)

Krimmism II: "That's what happened to wrestling, women took over the sport."

Sinbad really took advantage of that all-you-can improvise clause of his contract.

It's the second-to-last game of the season as the Armadillos square off against the Kansas Jayhawks, which oddly enough is our only current legit college program represented. It's typhoon season in Texas and the rain-drenched Armadillos are only down 3-0 with a minute or so to go. Blake gets the team in field-goal position -- Lucy time, with three seconds to go.

The swimsuit model turned furniture maker blasts it through the uprights, giving the 'Dillos a tie (their first non-loss of the season) with the Jayhawks. But she takes a licking from a sexist Kansas linebacker who also hits her with the salutation, "welcome to football!" Despite the obvious yet unflagged late hit, Lucy manages to get back on her own two feet and thank the friendly linebacker by repeating the message, "welcome to foot-ball!" as she blasts her foot into his crotch.

After a nice detour where we learn a little about tailback Jarvis Edison (Jason Bateman) and his conflict of being a spoiled rich kid (Texas State's Edison Library, Edison Avenue, Edison ...) who won't make the grade because he either doesn't like to study or is just stupid (we can't really tell which one's the dominant secondary factor), Blake also grows up and the team continues to gel. This leads Sarge to proclaim, "Basic losing, is over!"

Well suited

We also learn that coach Generro has something wrong with his ticker. In an odd bit of timing, he suffers what's believed to be a minor heart attack the day before the big game with the Colts. Positive he won't be on the sideline, he gives Rig his playbook and whistle, and tells him "you've been ready for 20 years (to be a head coach), I just never told you."

Dialogue diatribe: Let me get this straight. For 20 years you thought your pal and confident was ready for a big promotion and because of some undisclosed ulterior motive, you decided it was best not to say at one point, "hey buddy, the Texas A&T Spidermonkey job just opened up, you should try and get that."

And now you expect that cockamamie line to serve as inspiration/motivation/positive agitation for the guy as he's about to take the reigns for the most important game of the season? How about we rewrite the line to, "You've been ready for 20 years ..." and then have Dr. Perry Cox bust into the room and utter a line like, "OK, sisters, let's break up this tea party so the real men can do their jobs. Lassie, get in here (Dr. Dorian enters). Please escort Bea Arthur (Robert Loggia looks at him oddly while exiting) out of here so I can insert in coach Generro's -- what's that pet name I have for Jordan? -- oh yeah, ass, a thermometer."

Regardless, before there was Mike Nolan there was coach Rig. And in an uncomfortable sequence involving white socks, pants adjusting and a bit of scratching we sort of get the idea this may be the first time in his 60-odd years of living that Rig's wearing a suit. He also delivers a pregame pep talk:

"Coach Generro's not going to be with us tonight. He's had a slight heart attack. But I've got Generro's playbook, and I got his whistle and I know that we're playing the No. 1 team in Texas and I don't want to put any undue pressure on you guys, but Generro's last words were: Win, or I'll die."

There may be no better motivation in the history of mankind than, "win, or I'll die."

But Lou Holtz be dammed, coach Rig's pep talk isn't worth much. The Colts come out frothing from the mouth, putting up 21 points before the half and getting to Blake so often the quarterback's spitting up more blood than Joe Hallenbeck.

So while the Texas State marching band offers up their tribute to gun racks

Quoting Cimilluca says: "Gun rack? ... I don't own A gun, let alone many guns that would necessitate an entire rack."

and open-beverage containers ("only legal in Texas") we get a second dose of Rig and arguably Loggia's greatest thespian (Oscar nomination, phewie) contribution:

"So, we're losing 21-0. You know something, I think we have a shot at beating this team. It's like coach Generro says, 'we generate a cohesive offensive strategy.' Papke, my notes. It doesn't matter ... and linemen! You gotta give Blake at least four seconds to throw the g-ddam football. Now, let's analyze what's been working for us. Not a g-ddamn thing's been working for us! Like this g-ddamn suit doesn't work for me (rips off suit jacket), and this stinking tie (rips off tie) and this g-ddam shirt (rips off shirt). It doesn't work for me. You know how to play winning, hard-nosed football? You play football like Ed Generro played football! A guy who gave his life for this football team! He was a 140-pound halfback and he played like a g-ddamn wild man! No, like a g-ddamn rampaging beast! And that's the way you got to do it! You go out there, you tear their f****** heads off and you s*** down their necks! Let us pray."

Contrarian Cimilluca says: That's a good harangue, but Clark Griswold's Christmas Vacation "Hallelujah. Holy s***. Where's the Tylenol?!" speech trumps 'em all, folks.

The halftime speech works. Next thing we know Edison's breaking free for a touchdown and coach Generro's making a surprise appearance on the sideline. Turns out he had angina, or what Mexicans call indigestion. Featherstone finally catches a ball, for a touchdown no less, and the score's 21-14. With the team rolling, it's time for a little payback.

Anatomy of a payback playcall

Notice the movie's bad guy on the sideline: Check
Run a split right, 28 sweep on 2 directed at bad guy standing on sideline: Check
Successfully get tackled out of bounds and onto the bad guy: Check
Show bad guy scuffed up, seeing stars and loopy from the freight train that just hit him: Check
Show the bad guy getting fired from his role of dean: Check
Have the bad guy get shot with a cufflink dart, fall several stories off the Anaheim Stadium concourse, getting run over by a bus, a steamroller and the USC marching band: Fail

Hey, Robert Loggia has worn a suit, after all. Sort of. (Provided to CBSSports.com)

There's also an amusing sequence with Samurai, which costs the team 15 yards and a little facetime with all the ensemble characters as the game winds down. So now that everyone has got their piece of the pie, it's time for coach Rig's gimmick play, quarterback option.

But not before another pep talk courtesy of Blake:

"You're hurt, you're tired, you're bleeding. I'm going to make you a promise. We get to that end zone, you're not going to feel any pain. You hear what I'm saying?"

It's no "let's put the women and children to bed and go looking for dinner," but it works. A wide open Blake catches the throwback pass in the end zone. Now it's time for the big decision: tie or win?

Movie football rule No. 7852: There's no tying in football.

Just like fictional stories such as Major League, The Longest Yard and the Music City Miracle, it's time to end with a gimmick. It involves some sort of play action, a roll out, a crushing block on Flattop that knocks his facemask off and causes a disturbingly large amount of blood to stream from his mouth, and a reception by the man who caught Blake's first Armadillos pass, Charlie Banks.

Which brings us to a final, anatomy of a celebration for beating the nation's No. 1 team.

Anatomy of a slow-motion celebration sequence:

Throw arms up in air: Check
Show the scoreboard with the final score 22-21: Check
Generro, Rigg happy, hugging each other: Check
Banks gets picked up by teammates: Check Generro, Rigg still hugging, but now looking deep into each others eyes: Check
Blake earns coach Generro's respect: Check
Edison, Krimm dancing together: Check
Failed to previously mention public-address announcer Chuck Neiderman showering himself with champagne: Check
Lucy kissing Manumana: Check
Manumana falling to the ground immediately after: Check
Fighting Armadillo mascot firing gag gun at ex-dean Elia: Check
Pan across statue of Bud Kilmer: Fail