While we waited for the bus to take us to campus, I was approached by Clemson fans and signed autographs. I even had a few of the other recruits wanting me to sign things. Brook bailed on me when a crowd began to form. I was glad Fritz and Chuck were with me. It wasn’t that people were rude, but crowds sometimes grew to have a life of their own. My security helped keep everything calm.
When I glanced over at Brook, I saw her in an animated discussion with Tim and Wolf. I wondered what they were talking about, but soon forgot as I focused on the people who wanted to meet me.
I was glad when the buses arrived. On the way to campus, we learned about the area. Clemson University is located in Clemson, South Carolina, which is nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the northwest corner of the state. The town was no bigger than my hometown area, with a population of under 15,000. That wasn’t counting the university; it added another 23,000 students. The recruiting coordinator had told my mom that nearly 300,000 people would show up for game day.
Clemson had become a coeducational civilian institution in 1955. It still had a strong military connection and had both an Army ROTC and Marine Corps Semper Fi Society on campus. The cadets participate in home football games by doing pushups for scores and forming a rope line as the team enters the stadium from ‘The Hill.’
The campus itself sat on an old plantation that covered 1,400 acres. As we drove down the main street, you could already see fans beginning to show up. We were taken to the Alan N. Reeves Recruiting Center, where they had breakfast for us. They gave us a brief talk about Clemson and then broke us up into groups. Larry joined us, and we were off to our first stop, academic advisors.
Larry and his family joined Wolf, Tim, me, and our crew. It made sense to have the two quarterback prospects together. We’d been sent to a room in the library where there was plenty of space for everyone. I was a little embarrassed that I essentially had an entourage when you included my security and Brook.
The Clemson academic advisors almost outnumbered us. It was apparent they wanted to cater to whatever needs recruits might have. A kindly older gentleman, who reminded me of Grandpa Dawson, started our meeting.
“Welcome. I’m Dr. Carmichael. We’re on rather a tight schedule, so let’s split up so the right academic advisor can talk to the right recruit. I’ll go around and visit each group, but I’ll start the ball rolling with Mr. Foresee.”
There was some conversation as three different groups formed in different areas of the room. But when Dr. Carmichael motioned for me to walk with him, I realized there wasn’t one for me.
He walked up to Tim and put a hand on his arm.
“I understand you want to pursue a career in architecture. Am I correct in that assumption?”
“Yes, sir,” Tim answered.
“Great. Ms. Daniels will take the lead, then.”
I guess we were pressed for time because she began her presentation without any fanfare.
“Clemson has a different DNA from other schools, especially in the school of Architecture. Because it fits into our schools of Humanities and Arts, it allows you a broad base of educational experiences. Our goal is that our students have both a breadth and depth of education. You’ll be required to have a minor and take a language. We also expect you to spend a semester off campus.
“Unlike at other universities, architecture undergrads take architecture classes from the first day they are on campus. Our goal is to give you the tools to be able to not only learn the unique terms but to ensure you understand how to get started. It forms the basis for your education moving forward.
“It’s hoped that it will also help you decide what direction you want to focus on …”
I was impressed by how they handled things. From that point forward, Ms. Daniels focused exclusively on Tim, ignoring even his parents, and gave a frank presentation outlining what he could expect. We could tell that the educational experience at Clemson would be unique, and it was evident that Ms. Daniels wanted Tim to succeed. I know she won more than his parents over.
Dr. Carmichael touched my arm, and we walked around to the other two groups. Larry and Wolf were receiving treatment similar to Tim. Larry wanted to study sports communications. I’d never heard of such a degree before. I shook my head when they talked about how professional athletes needed to have strong communication skills, and the university’s approach. Clemson offered a—and I’m quoting them here—“multi-faceted and diverse approach to sports communication through examining areas such as social media, public relations, organizational communication, and interpersonal communication.”
I thought that was what I paid people for.
Wolf talked to his group about someday wanting to own a construction company. That discussion wound up focusing on business management with an emphasis on entrepreneurship.
When the discussions wound down, people migrated back to the center of the room, and I realized it was my turn. I wasn’t given an opportunity to tell them what I wanted. They’d talked to my mom, and she’d shared what she thought I wanted. Dr. Carmichael, who had started the entire discussion, smiled at me.
“I understand that you need to be challenged. Your transcripts and test scores indicate you would be best served by our honors program. At our Clemson Honors College, we encourage our students to excel by offering specialized courses with Clemson’s best professors. We help our students create their own ideal education by sponsoring programs such as study abroad and undergraduate research. And we provide individualized funding for internships, educational travel, and professional development.
“From your different activities, I anticipate you will provide us with unique opportunities in developing a course of study for you. One thing we will want to do is to push you out of your comfort zone. I’d like to demonstrate that right now if that’s okay?” he asked me.
This was different, but I’d enjoyed the experience to this point, so I nodded my assent.
“I’d like you to sing for us,” Dr. Carmichael said, handing me sheet music.
My brain froze. What had he just said? Sing for him? My first reaction was, ‘Hell no!’ He knew what he was doing, though.
“Makes you nervous, doesn’t it?”
“Slightly,” I offered.
“Just give it a try. I want to show you something.”
If Dr. Carmichael hadn’t been so nice, I might have walked out. I didn’t get a vibe that he was doing anything other than trying to help me. I looked at the sheet music. The song was Punchline. I quickly read the lyrics and realized they had meaning for me.
“Shall we give it a try?” Dr. Carmichael asked.
“Sure.”
I noticed Brook and a couple of others, including my mom—the traitor—slyly pulling out their cell phones. But Dr. Carmichael raised his hand rather abruptly in a ‘stop’ gesture.
“I want you all to understand that this is not an exercise in embarrassing David or having a joke at his expense. So, I will ask you all to please put your phones and cameras away and not to record this. This is an exercise in going beyond comfort zones and trying new things. It’s not easy for anyone put in this position, so please give this the respect it deserves.”
I briefly thought of the belly-cams Fritz and I were wearing, but put it out of my mind. Fritz was, above all, a professional. Embarrassing someone he was charged with protecting would be the very last thing on his mind.
I also thought of the many ways Craig Wild had hazed me during the filming of Star Academy. I could have used this guy on that trip.
Dr. Carmichael pointed to one of the professors, and the professor put his phone on the table and tapped the screen. Music began to play. The song was sad. The underlying story was about a guy who felt no one took him seriously. I was surprised I related to it. I guess deep down, I had insecurities. Being a jock who also acted wasn’t a combination that was frequently encountered. It wasn’t easy to put yourself out there and wonder if people accepted you or thought you were a joke.