Junior Year Box Set

“Sunday we’ll have breakfast and then have the workouts. You’ll get an opportunity to meet with the coaches once again. Are there any questions?” Coach Bailsman asked.

I started to see a pattern as far as activities on a visit. I thought Louisville had a better format. They hired escorts to make sure the players had a good time, if the reports were accurate. I’d yet to see that approach used elsewhere.

“Normally, I don’t single out a recruit on a visit, but we have someone special with us today,” Coach Bailsman said, and I looked around to see who was here. “I wanted to let you know that the number 1 recruit in the Junior Class, and Elite 11 Co-MVP who led his team to a last-second victory last night, is with us. Of course, I’m talking about David Dawson.”

My teammates all knew how much I hated that kind of thing, so they started chanting “Our House!” to embarrass me. There was already a video out that had gone viral showing my declaration, followed by my backing it up on the field. The problem with being singled out like that was you had to be on your best behavior. I couldn’t just be one of the guys after that. If I did anything questionable, like drink or have sex with a college coed, it would be talked about. Being a leader had its drawbacks, but if that was the price I had to pay to get us to a State Championship, I would gladly carry the load.

We were then introduced to our chaperones for the weekend. I was further embarrassed when I received one of my very own. Chip Ellis was a redshirt freshman quarterback. It seemed Michigan State had rolled out the red carpet. If this kept up, the other recruits would start to resent me.

“Everyone that’s with David, please gather ’round,” Chip called out.

Of course, I expected Cassidy and Coach Hope, my parents, and Brandon. I didn’t expect the Wesleyan girls and Alan to join us. My mom stared me in the eyes, and being in no mood to restart that fight, I just smiled.

“We have some time before the football game, so I thought I’d take you to my fraternity. They’re having a pregame event for alumni and parents. So the girls should be safe,” Chip said.

I won’t repeat what the Wesleyan girls said, but I was happy when my mom gave them ‘the eye,’ and they fell back into line. Poor Chip was blushing. While we walked to the fraternity house, Chip played tour guide and pointed out the different sights. I liked the feel of the campus and town. It didn’t seem quite as crowded as Northwestern had been. We eventually came to a large house that was vaguely Tudor style in design. It had brickwork on the bottom floor and light-colored paint on the second story. All that was missing was the decorative boards. The sign out front said Lambda Chi Alpha–Founded 1927.

We walked into a dated interior. The entry hall had green and brown slate flooring and a large crest for the fraternity. We were ushered into a formal living room that had mismatched couches that looked like something out of my Grandma Felton’s house. Chip left us to do something.

“If this is what a fraternity looks like, you’re not joining one,” my mom informed me.

“Do you think they get their furniture from Goodwill?” Harper asked.

“Actually, you’re not too far off on that,” said a guy who had to either be an alumnus or someone’s father. “They’ve been raising funds for a new fraternity house. This one has seen better days.

“You must be David. Why don’t you all join us out back? They have some doughnuts and coffee we brought with us. We don’t trust them to make coffee here.”

Dad and I were happy boys when we saw they had a full box of Bavarian Cream doughnuts. We did our circuit to meet everybody. It was evident that Chip had brought us with the intention that if I came to Michigan State, I would rush Lambda Chi Alpha. Cassidy amused Tami because she never left my side. If you had just met us, you would bet that we were a couple. Tami knew that Coach Hope wouldn’t allow it, and she kept watching him and his daughter to see if there was going to be any fireworks. I knew that Cassidy was still getting over the loss of Jeff, so wasn’t worried that anything would get out of hand.

After we had our doughnuts, we were whisked off to the stadium. Chip had a list of tailgate parties he was supposed to take us to, which turned out to be hosted by alumni boosters. The first one we stopped at was sponsored by a real estate company. Chip introduced me to the man throwing the party. When I shook the man’s hand, he palmed a hundred-dollar bill into mine.

“Excuse me, sir,” I said, pretending to pick up the bill. “I think this is yours.”