/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/47725801/A_BEAUTIFUL_GARY.0.0.jpg)
- Shocking as the video of Patterson accosting Dana Hologram about TCU’s chances against Baylor might have seemed at the time, it’s really no surprise—Gary has led every conversation he has had with this very question for a solid year. An anonymous source indicates that he has asked his wife this question no fewer than 5,000 times, eliciting a wide range of responses from "I’ve never heard of that restaurant" to "I thought ’68-’71 was a much stronger time for music, to be honest" to "If you like Baylor so much then WHY DON’T YOU MARRY THEM." Rumors of Towel Girl puncturing her own eardrums to avoid hearing the question again, meanwhile, remain unsubstantiated at press time.
- Each morning, Patterson practices how exactly he will approach Art Briles for the post-game handshake and role-plays—in detail—the precise trajectory of their conversation. Although all signs indicate that these hypothetical scenarios were initially rather benign, recent reports suggest that the ritual has ballooned into a 90-minute odyssey that culminates in Patterson being crowned the "Lord of Glory" after emerging victorious in an elaborately choreographed rapier duel. School funds appropriated to repeatedly replace the wilted laurel wreath used in this ceremony are said to exceed $10,000.
- Relatedly, Patterson has spent no small amount of time attempting to cultivate a collection of "folksy" barbs to toss at Briles. Results of this endeavor have been mixed, from less promising efforts such as "When you mess with the frog, you get the horns," to the more objectively clever "No one makes us bleed our own blood except us!" Baylor’s loss to OU is thought to have been caused, at least in part, because Briles was shown a copy of the full list immediately prior to the game and was unable to stop laughing. Whether or not this was part of Patterson’s broader scheme remains shrouded in mystery, though the self-awareness required would seem to suggest otherwise.
- Patterson is said to have purchased a wide variety of bear traps over the summer, the entire collection of which is currently on display in the TCU practice facility. Players have been instructed to spend no fewer than six hours per week "considering the traps," and sources indicate that Patterson himself can often be found there in the early hours of the morning, murmuring incoherently and rocking back and forth with the largest of the traps cradled protectively in his lap. When questioned on this strategy by assistant coaches, an irate Patterson raved that the traps were "the key to the whole thing" before launching into a diatribe against the NCAA for explicitly denying his claim that they be considered as legitimate football equipment. Excerpts from Patterson’s personal strategy notebook, obtained exclusively for this report, reveal similarly denied requests for use of poisoned bait, Alaskan salmon, and "fragrant garbage" on the field. Later entries reflect a shift in strategy toward more philosophical ends, with numerous references to a "trap mentality" and extensive repetition of the phrase "WE NEED TO BE THE TEETH" scrawled in a shaking hand.
- Patterson recently punished his entire squad after learning that a few players had visited a museum over the weekend, screaming that "art is one of the greatest threats this program has ever faced."
- Other eccentric charges covered by the football program over the past year include: a copy of "Getting the Best of Your Nemesis for Dummies," registration for a six-month course in "self-actualization," 100 lbs of bear jerky, the retainer for a mathematics think tank specializing in "advanced playbook cryptography," construction of a private sauna connected directly to Patterson’s office (a memo on the invoice cites "steam helps keep the darkness at bay"), the domain name "morelikefartbrilesamirite.com," and 27 separate iTunes movie rentals of "Zodiac," David Fincher’s virtuoso portrait of obsession and futility in the face of a fundamentally unsolvable mystery.
- Patterson has admitted to working on a novel in his spare time as a way of "taking his mind off a few things" over the course of the hectic college football season, an endeavor which is, as he noted with remarkable candor, "the only thing in my life that truly has nothing to do with that school down the road." The book, he eagerly describes, is the allegorical tale of a down-on-his-luck frog who rises to unexpected prominence, only to be viciously dethroned by a nefarious bear. "But the frog," he breathes, right eyelid twitching slightly, "well, the frog still has a few things up his sleeve."
- In a recent game, Patterson sacrificed a likely win by electing to go for two instead of tying things up with an extra point, citing afterward that his team would be put at a disadvantage in the upcoming BU-TCU game due to fatigue in the event of overtime. To be clear, he literally lost a game to make sure his team wouldn’t be at a purely hypothetical disadvantage against Baylor. This is the only one of these that is actually true, and it is somehow still the strangest one by a mile. Long live the Revivalry.