For nearly two decades, the mothers of Rice football players told their sons they had the voices of angels.

"We're here to give them the truth," coach David Bailiff said.

During training camp, when most football players are only worried about learning the playbook and earning a starting spot, Rice has added off-the-field exercises to build trust.

The Owls are renting a karaoke machine for the players to use after team dinners during their preseason camp. These karaoke nights, which run through Sunday, have a twist - the players don't get to decide whether they will sing.

The nightly dinner entertainment during camp consists of the seniors calling on new players or anyone on the coaching or training staffs and making them step outside of their comfort zone. The windows in the room above the south end zone at Rice Stadium that look out on to the field have closed blinds, giving the room a lounge feel.

This isn't shower singing or singing while driving or postgame-victory vocalizing. This is put-it-all-out-there-and-show-us-who-you-are singing.

If a player sings softly, he gets booed. If he sings way off pitch, he is booed. If he is really bad, he gets booed and then booed harder.

If he gets into the song, he is applauded. If he sings like offensive line coach Ronnie Vinklarek sang Mac Davis' "Oh Lord, It's Hard To Be Humble" earlier this week, he gets a standing ovation. There are more cheers than boos.

The energy in the room is highest, when a song such as "I Believe I Can Fly" or "Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue" is playing.

The room full of football players resembles the stands full of teenage girls at a Taylor Swift concert - without the high-pitched screams.

The players smile and sing along to most of the words. They have their cellphones out to shoot video of their teammates.

They love songs about the country, about women and they really loved when their secretary Megan Spacek rapped Eminem's "Without Me."

When assistant coach Darrell Patterson asked if he could tell a joke instead of singing, master of ceremonies Stu Mouchantaf, a senior defensive tackle, said, "You can tell a joke, but I don't think we'll laugh."

The room erupted in laughter.

During these karaoke nights, none of the players seemed worried about the daily struggles and stresses of practice.

After Patterson finished his song, players chirped with encouragement:

"Thanks for blessing us with that, Coach."

"That turned my day around."

"It sounded like Fergie and Jesus."

There was also the annual offensive linemen tradition of the Soggy Bottom Boys' "Man of Constant Sorrow," complete with choreography.

"Sometimes, it's really good," Bailiff said of the nightly entertainment. "Sometimes it's really bad."

Regardless of the quality, the players say the karaoke nights help them prepare for what's to come on the football field.

"We're trying to show the young ones how to face their fears and to get something done when it's least expected," Mouchantaf said. "If they face their fear of singing in front of everyone, then we know it's not going to be hard to know they'll get that stop on fourth down in a big moment. It builds trust."