AURORA — I am a blue-chip football recruit. At least that’s what my mom and dad have been telling me for years, since I was, oh, about 5 years old, and they should know because they watch a lot of ESPN.
Every night at dinner, I hear it: “There’s no reason you can’t start at UCLA as a freshman.”
I have a box of (form) letters from assorted colleges, even if some of them made me include a self-addressed, stamped envelope. My cellphone is full of recruiters’ numbers and text messages, many of which tell me to have a nice day.
A personal website? Mine’s cool, with a tough-guy head-shot photograph, (close to) my dimensions, my video highlights — the best was when I blindsided the punter on a return — how much I can squat, bench and dead lift, my time over 40 yards (my uncle handled the stopwatch), and the college programs on my radar, everywhere from the Atlantic Coast Conference to the WAC. Hey, it’s a big country.
And why not? A little marketing can’t hurt, right? Tact is four-letter word. They can’t find me if they don’t know about me, can they? And that’s why I’ve had a DVD of me since I was a freshman, when I began on the B team. Also, I’ve attended as many camps and clinics as possible, and my parents have hounded everyone who looks even remotely associated with football.
Telephone numbers of news- papers and television stations have been on my favorites’ list for years. Instead of waiting to hear from Internet recruiting geeks, I’ve gone ahead and contacted them. I’ll state this: Once you get to know them by e-mailing the first couple thousands of times or so, you find those folks to be people too.
I was one of the 250 players in my league to be named all-league. Yeah, I should have been named all-state, but what do newspaper guys know? It’s politics, all politics.
Maybe that’s why I’m considered “under the radar.”
While my visits have been deemed unofficial (Why? I was there, wasn’t I?), my parents took me to see Alabama, Notre Dame, Florida — as well as the back of Tim Tebow’s head — Nebraska and Oklahoma, and that’s as good a recruiting list as anyone’s (I checked).
Time may be running out, but I don’t have to make it official until Feb. 3, national signing day. I can pledge to a school every other second. Honor? What honor? Even if I announce my intention, what’s to keep others from continuing to recruit me? And why can’t I keep looking? It helps feed my sense of entitlement.
Ultimately, the plan is to land at my dream school. If something should happen, as in a better offer, I’ll switch to another dream school. Coaches do it all the time, even before a season is over. I’m supposed to be going to a school and its program as opposed to playing for a specific coach, but let’s be realistic. It’s just not that way. My future coach may have signed others at my position or previous classes perhaps were guilty of violations, resulting in sanctions. Not my problem or concern.
Anyway, I had planned to announce my decision on national TV at one of those all-star games. You know, right after a commercial with, say, five hats in front of me, then I put one on. Trouble was, I didn’t make one of those all-star games, so I’ll probably have to settle for a get-together in a lobby of my high school with a King Soopers sheet cake.
Just as long as I get a free ride — college cost is well into six figures and I can’t be bothered taking out loans even if I never leave the sideline.
I’m hoping it will be Texas, where I can eat crab legs for breakfast. Maybe some place my representatives can allegedly get paid or I receive use of an SUV. If it has to be Adams State or some such place, I’ll transfer after a couple of years.
Color me a product of the current system.
Neil H. Devlin: 303-954-1714 or ndevlin@denverpost.com
