Chapter 38: Elite Camp

Wednesday July 15

I was packed and ready to go to camp. The plan was for Tami to pick me up to take me to the airport. I had loved up on Duke, and explained I would only be gone a few days. I was surprised when Harper walked in the back door. I didn't ask any questions until we were in the car.

"Where's Tami?" I asked.

"She'll see you when you get back. You get to talk to me on the way to the airport."

"Okay, what am I talking to you about?"

"My job is to talk you out of being Tami's boyfriend. She knows you want to be a couple. She said you would already have the pros figured out, but needed to be reminded of the cons. She wanted you to know she was just making sure you were sure, before you both decided."

I thought about it for a minute and I wanted to get mad. This was so like her to send someone else to do her dirty work. I knew Harper was being a friend to both of us. So I settled back to find out why we shouldn't date.

"Give it your best shot," I said.

"She said I was to give you this."

Harper held out her hand and I opened mine as she dropped her panties. Crud! Harper intently watched the road, but I saw her shoulders shaking slightly as she silently laughed at me. Two could play this game. I pulled them to my nose, and took in a deep sniff.

"Gross!" Harper complained.

I waggled my eyebrows at her.

"Okay, that didn't work," she said, and then got serious. "How about this? You do realize how hard a long-distance relationship will be, and we are not talking just the next two years. If you two go to different colleges, there is another four years. Tami will have medical school for four more years, while you are either in grad school, law school, or are off playing football in the NFL. After she is done with medical school she has her residency. Her residency could last anywhere from three to eight years. You could be potentially be apart as long as eighteen years. Hell, you're not even eighteen, yet.

"I don't want to open old wounds, but how was the last year?" she asked.

That was a cheap shot. I got quiet and just stared at the cornfields as we drove. Why the hell did I even bother? When she was finally done, and ready to start her practice, she would be in her thirties. I was sure she would want to build that up. When would we ever have kids? I wanted children.

Tami had coached Harper well. She shut up and let me think. Intellectually I understood Tami's goal to be a doctor was going to take time, and we might be apart for some or most of it. I guess I never understood how long it could take. The only answer I could come up with was if we loved each other enough, we could find a way to make it work.

Tami had the smarts and ambition to be a fine doctor. There was no way I would stop her from achieving that dream. I was also smart and ambitious. If we were together in our mid-30s we would be a power couple. We each would have to make sacrifices to get to that point. The question was, which one of us would have to bend to keep us together? The way Harper had laid it out it seemed like an insurmountable obstacle for us to truly be a couple.

When we hit the suburbs of Chicago, I snapped out of my self-pity. I needed to be focused the next few days, and to stew about our decision wasn't conducive to me having a good camp. Bo had warned me that last year, the Elite 11's MVP had gone to a camp the following week, and the #2 guy had cleaned his clock. Everyone would want to take me down, this week. I couldn't afford a letdown, or a meltdown, like Cadillac.

I also decided to take Tami's advice. If something came along during camp, I would go for it. The foursome I had last night was fun. I could check that off my list. I still couldn't believe Kate Upton wasn't calling me. I needed to have Lily up her efforts. I would probably skip camp if she wanted to hook up.

When we pulled up to the Southwest signs I leaned over and kissed Harper.

"Thank you. I needed to hear that. I appreciate the ride, and your friendship."

"Go be a stud. I'll talk to you when you get back. She loves you, you know."

I just nodded, and got out of the car. Harper popped the trunk so I could get my bags. I waved goodbye, and went to the curbside luggage check-in. They printed off my boarding pass, and I went in to tackle security.

I had paid extra so I could be one of the first to board. Southwest had carnival seating. I got lucky and was able to snag an aisle seat in the first row, which gave me some extra legroom. I was seated next to a college-aged guy who had a service dog with him. It was a golden retriever named Max according to the tag on his collar. The college guy looked to be hung over and told Max to lie at his feet.

We had a full flight, and when we finally got everyone on board we pushed back to take off. Max looked uncomfortable with all the weird noises, and his master didn't pay him any attention. After we took off I decided to lean back and take a nap. I was almost asleep when I felt a wet nose nudge my arm. Max wanted assurance everything was okay. I flipped up the arm rest and patted the seat next to me. Max jumped up and laid his head on my lap. I put my hand on his side and we were soon both asleep.

I woke up when we were coming down. Max's master woke up and apologized. I assured him Max was fine. I had enjoyed sitting next to him better than I would have anyone else.

"What do you have, Max?"

I looked down, and he was chewing on something. Sometimes Duke would get a Kleenex. Whatever it was he didn't need to swallow it. Max's master tried to get it away from him, but he was facing me. Then I realized what he had.

Oh, hell no!

He was working on Harper's panties. I put my hand out.

"Drop it!" I ordered.

Max stopped chewing and looked at me with those big sad eyes only a dog can have. Then his tail wagged twice, and he started chewing again. My dad was much better at getting dogs to mind. I saw corner of the panties stick out the side of his mouth and I grabbed it. I almost had it snaked out of his mouth when he suddenly let go. The panties went flying towards the plane's exit. One of the stewardesses saw it, and covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

Max saw his new chew toy, and made a lunge to get off the seat. I grabbed his collar to prevent him running around on the plane. His master got him in hand. I got up to get the chewed-up panties. The stewardess bent down and hooked the offending garment with a pen. She stood up, and now most of the passengers in the first third of the plane could see what she had.

I stood tall, and gave her my best tight-lipped smile, as I took them and stuffed them back into my pants pocket.

"I'll give you my number when we land," I said for the benefit of our gawkers.

She turned red, and everyone had a laugh.

When I was getting off the plane I slipped her a piece of paper, and asked to call me if she wanted to go to dinner tonight. I figured I didn't have anything to lose, so why not?

This year, Bo would just work with me. He had gotten us a two-bedroom apartment in the same complex we'd stayed in last year. I liked it, because it was within walking distance of camp. Bo greeted me and told me to change my clothes. He planned to work me out.

He drove me to a local high school, and we went out on their field. He had me haul a bag of footballs out to the fifty yard line. I thought I was going to throw. I was badly mistaken. Bo thought I needed to run my ass off.

He started me off running forty-yard dashes.

"We don't have time to waste reps today! If you are going to run at 75%, you are wasting both our time!" Bo barked.

He got my blood pumping, and then he had me take a break to rehydrate. Bo pulled a vest out of his duffel bag. He handed it to me, and I found out that it was heavy.

"Put it on," Bo said.

The vest probably weighed thirty pounds. He then had me go back to running forties. He put a stopwatch on me. If my time began to slow, he would make me push through it until I could get my time back to what it should be. He would then let me take a break.

"You have to learn to play through it, when you're tired. At some point, you are going to be gassed, and you need one more play. Now get back at it, and give me one more play."

The added weight sapped my energy.

He then put the footballs on the ground spread out so I could run cone drills. This challenged me to keep my feet quick and move laterally as well as front and back. It simulated dropping back and then going to your right, then left, and finally forward. Bo was on me with the stopwatch.

He would change the drills and push me to do better. When I was close to reaching my limit, he had me take off the vest and run through the drills one more time. I felt like I was flying without the extra weight. I was stealing that vest! What a great training tool!

When we got back to the apartment, Bo sent me out back to get into the hot tub by the pool. I was ordered to take my supplements and to soak to help my muscles recover faster. The building we were staying in was used for corporate apartments. Companies would rent them out for short or long term stays for their employees.

"Mind if I join you?" a feminine voice asked that startled me.

I opened my eyes and I saw a fit woman in her late 20s/early 30s smile at me. She wore a one-piece swimsuit. She had all the curves in the right places, so I nodded. I enjoyed her long legs as she stepped into the hot tub.

"I look forward to this all day. There is no better way to relax after a day at work," she said.

"I wish I had a hot tub at home. I have to go to my friend's house to take a soak," I said.

I leaned back and let the hot water do its magic. I could feel I was at the point where I was cooked, so I got out and jumped into the pool. I swam laps to cool down. When I was ready to get out, a girl came through the backdoor that looked to be my age. I noticed she was the spitting image of the woman in the hot tub.

"Mom, can I, oh, hi," she said when she saw me get out of pool.

Sometimes being a model had its rewards.

"Would you ladies be interested in joining my friend and me for dinner tonight? We just got into town and could use a friendly face to show us around."

"Yes, what time?" the younger one answered.

Mom had a stern look on her face and motioned to her daughter to come closer so they could talk. I stepped back to give them their privacy. I figured there was no way this was going to work. The only thing I had that worked in my favor, was that the mom would be with us to make sure I wouldn't take advantage of her daughter.

I had to silently chuckle. Where had this brazen attitude come from? I had given my number to the stewardess, and now I'd asked out a mother-daughter tandem. I saw the daughter do a happy dance, and I was amazed when they said yes. I told them to meet us out front in thirty minutes, and hustled upstairs.

Shit! I didn't even know their names. Details!

I rushed into the apartment to see Bo kicked back, soda in hand, as he watched Sports Center.

"Hurry up and take a shower. I got us dates," I said.

I thought only teenage girls could give you that look.

"Come again?"

"You need to take a shower. Did you bring anything other than coach clothes?" I asked, referring to the shorts and polo shirts he always wore.

"Back up. Did you say you got us dates?"

I put my hands on my hips.

"You don't think I'm capable of finding us dates?"

"Did you have to pay for them?

"Fuck you very much. Are you going to be a jerk, or are you going to get in the shower?" I asked.

"I'm not going anywhere until you give me some details."

I took in a deep breath, and let out an exasperated sigh. I could see Bo enjoyed messing with me.

"What's to know? I got us dates with two very attractive women. Now get off your butt and into the shower. We are meeting them in twenty minutes."

"What are they like? Are they local, or from somewhere else?" Bo started on me.

"That is what the date is for. You remember dating, right?"

He threw a pillow at me, and I went to shower. When I was done, I heard Bo's shower, so I knew I wasn't going to have to drag him out of the apartment. I was glad I had brought some decent clothes. I had on Dockers and a short-sleeve Oxford dress shirt. Bo came out in jeans and a polo shirt. I wasn't going to argue, because at least he was dressed. If we were going to hang out, I would have to take him shopping.

I listened to what I had just been thinking. Dear Lord! Did I just say that? I needed to turn in my Man Card!

I refused to answer any of his questions as we walked down the stairs. Then he came up short when he saw them in short summer dresses. He leaned in close to me.

"What are their names?"

I just shrugged. He gave me a dirty look and stepped forward.

"Hi, I'm Bo Harrington and this is David Dawson."

"Tanya Masters and this is my daughter Lisa. Where do you want to go?" the mom asked.

I had forgotten Bo had worked in Houston, and knew the area. He suggested a steak house. As we walked to the car, I whispered to find out which one he wanted. I thought the dirty look was unnecessary.

When we got to Bo's rental car Lisa opened the back door, and pushed me in. I could see the amused look on her mom's face. Lisa wasn't taking any chances her mom would make her sit with her on the ride to the restaurant.

By the time we were done eating, it was apparent Bo and Tanya hit it off. Lisa was a manipulative little shit whom I couldn't stand. I was never so ready for a date to end. Luckily, Tanya figured it out, and when we got back to the apartment, sent Lisa home.

I think that was what my baseball coach had tried to tell me. Date them until you found the one and then keep her. I would keep Tami.

Thursday July 16

I was amazed what a difference a year made. Elite Camp had vaulted me from #8 to #1 in the freshman class. Since then, I had won a State Championship, been named All-State, held onto my #1 ranking, and been named Co-MVP of the Elite 11 Camp.

Kendal had tracked me down before I left this morning to figure out what I had done with the recruiting phone. I had left it on my nightstand, turned off. Mom offered to take it to Kendal's office. Kendal was put in charge of the calls, until Tom figured out who would become my initial recruiting contacts.

Mom told me mail had started to come in from colleges. I was getting my first taste of what big-time recruiting would be like this year.

I walked into the training facilities, and saw the Houston Texans Cheerleaders were signing people in again. I smiled when I saw Kaitlyn, the cheerleader I had flirted with last year.

"David! Come on over here and get signed in," Kaitlyn said when she saw me.

"You've been sorting through the packets, haven't you?" I teased her.

Last year I had accused her of flipping through the packets to find the cute boys. My packet had been on top. Ridge and Hunter had stood back to watch the train wreck, but had joined in once Kaitlyn had invited her friends over to take pictures with me.

"You caught me, Sugar," she said with her sweet Texas drawl.

"Are you going to introduce me to your friends?" I asked.

"Sure," she said, and called over the other cheerleaders.

I was getting my picture taken with all of them when I heard a familiar voice.

"You get named MVP, and look what happens," Ben Luck said, the quarterback I had met at Elite 11 Regional Camp in Columbus, who was from Springfield, Missouri.

I finished up with my pictures, and thanked Kaitlyn. I went over and shook Ben's hand.

"Good to see you. I was sorry you didn't make the finals," I said.

"Don't sweat it. I was happy to hear how well you did. Congrats, man."

"Thanks. Who do you have as a coach at camp?" I asked.

"Bud Mason."

"Me, too. I had Bud last year. You'll learn a lot," I said.

Someone covered my eyes.

"Guess who," said the sexy voice.

I thought about whom else could be here.

"Candy?" I asked tentatively.

She gave me a giggle and then turned me around so I could confirm my guess. She gave me a kiss on the cheek. I saw Flee out of the corner of my eye walking up. I slipped my arm around her waist.

"What do you think you're doing?" Flee grumbled.

"I'm stealing your girlfriend," I said, as I let her go as I hugged my friend.

"Good to see you, David. Congrats on being named MVP. You deserved it," Flee said.

"Any offers yet?" I asked.

"I got a preferred walk-on offer from Ohio State, after Elite 11 camp. Coach Trent gave them a call on my behalf. I also got offers from State, Central Florida, and Rutgers. You live near State don't you?"

"Yeah, and three of my former teammates all are on the team. They keep telling me the missing piece for their team is a quarterback. I watched some of their games, and they could use you. Plus, I would get to see you."

"Who did you get as a coach?" Flee asked.

"Bud Mason. Ben is one of the other quarterbacks in my group."

"I got your coach, Bo Harrington. I had to fight to get him after what you did at Elite 11."

"I might have to make him start paying me," I said.

We wished each other well, and I went to start the morning session.

They sent us to the locker room, where we each had a name plate above our locker. In it we had a jersey with our name on it. I had number eleven on mine. We also had everything we would need. We were told to just get into shorts and our jersey. This morning was about measurements.

I knew the drill as they sent us all to get a physical. Part of it was to test for drugs or illegal substances like steroids. They sprung it on us, so we couldn't try and mask the test. One guy opted to go home.

They then sent us to our teams for the week. I was happy Ben was one of the quarterbacks. The other two guys I had never met before. Kyle Drexler hailed from Ocala, Florida and was committed to Florida State. The last quarterback was Chuck Tess from Greenville, South Carolina and planned to play college ball at Clemson. I was happy to see Bud's college assistant was Florida's Quaid Rudd. Quaid had helped Coach Mason last year, too.

We all had three goals at this camp. The first was the training. Getting the chance to work with a legendary quarterback coach, like Bud Mason, was something you just didn't pass up. I had learned so much from him last year that there was no way I wouldn't come back.

The next two went hand-in-hand.

The second goal was that you were being compared by the scouting services. They would all be here. You could try and say your rating doesn't matter, but you would be crazy! Colleges, their boosters, alumni, and fan bases all kept score. If a coaching staff couldn't land enough blue-chip recruits, they'd better be winning some games, otherwise they'd be done.

The third goal was to be seen by the top programs. You couldn't have any direct contact with them at the camp, but they were all watching.

I had established myself as one of the five-star recruits in the country. Even the top programs only landed a few five-star recruits each year. This camp was the first opportunity for many of the recruiting services and college programs to see me in action, this year. It was one thing to read about my exploits. It was another to be able to see if I really was as good as the Elite 11 camp results indicated.

They only allowed a small number of official visits during your junior and senior years. You needed to make every one of them count. My goal was to visit the best possible programs. This camp would help open doors for me.

Quaid Rudd got us together and we went to meet Coach Mason. The last time I saw Quaid, he had been on the worst Florida team since 1979. They had finished 4 – 8. Last year had been better. They finished 7 – 5, but it wasn't enough to keep their head coach. The bad news for Quaid was he had lost his starting job in the spring game. It was hard to fathom that Florida had won National Championships in 2006 and 2008 and in the last two years, they had gone 11 – 13.

Coach Mason waited for us in one of the conference rooms.

"David, congratulations are in order for your performance at Elite 11."

"Thank you, Coach," I said.

"Quaid and I have had the chance to watch film on all of you. We are going to work on specific things that have been customized for each of you.

"Ben, you look great one moment and then I don't know what happens. If I were to guess, I would say you are not staying focused.

"Kyle, you are also having consistency problems. You have a high ceiling, if we can get that worked out.

"Chuck, we need to work on your mechanics. You have a big windup that is going to kill you when you get to higher levels. You've gotten away with it in high school, and you might get away with it in college. The pros will eat you up.

"David, you've made great strides since I saw you last. I was going to hammer you about your footwork, but what I saw from the tapes of you at Elite 11, it seems someone helped fix that aspect of your game. I still have a lot to teach you. I think your goal is to be special. We'll work to get you there.

"I don't believe in doing a bunch of drills. I want to see you in live action. So go get in your pads, and meet me on field three in fifteen minutes."

We went back to the locker room to get dressed.

"What do you think he means by live action?" Chuck asked.

"He is going to run this like a real practice. Instead of shorts and t-shirts, we will be fully suited up. It'll be live action with tackling and everything," I said.

I don't think they believed me.

I loved how Bud Mason ran a practice. There was no standing around. You took the ball, and ran the play. Then it was the next guy's turn. If you messed up, you went to visit Quaid, who worked with you, one-on-one, to help you learn the concept or technique Coach Mason wanted you to learn. Then you got back into the rotation.

Houston in the middle of July was hot, and today it was broiling with the humidity going through the roof. Only Kyle seemed to handle it well. He was from central Florida after all. I remembered last year, I hadn't stayed hydrated, and cramped up. I made sure to drink plenty of fluids as the day wore on.

One thing had changed this year: we had a lot more people watch us. They had set up temporary bleachers on the side of the field, so everyone could see. I figured this couldn't be any worse than ESPN-HS following me around with a camera crew, so it didn't bother me. The other three guys struggled with the increased scrutiny. Coach Mason could see they were having problems. I was surprised he didn't get on them very hard. He would talk to them quietly for a moment, and then send them over to Quaid.

I was a different story.

"Gawd Damn it, Dawson! Where do you need to put the ball?" Coach Mason's voice boomed.

What the heck? I had completed the pass. What was he mad about?

"Sir?" I asked confused.

"If you were going to throw the perfect pass to your receiver, where would you put the ball?"

"I would hit him in the numbers," I said without hesitation.

"What do the rest of you think?" Coach Mason asked.

They all agreed with me.

"Wrong! You want the ball at eye level. A receiver has to look the ball into his hands. You don't want him looking down. You will get him killed that way. You want his head up, so he can keep track of what is around him. Now, run it again," Coach ordered me.

He would teach me many little things I needed to know. I had always thought it was best to put the ball on my receiver's numbers. When I thought about it, I had to agree with him. What I found when I started to do it his way was that the receivers were using their hands to make the catches. What I mean by that was sometimes a receiver would use his body to trap the ball against his chest. Bad things can happen when you let that happen. When a ball hits football pads it tends to cause it to bounce, and go in unexpected directions. The second thing was they sometimes fumbled around to get a grip on the ball and to tuck it correctly. This gave the defensive back an opportunity to strip the ball.

When you throw the ball at a guy's head, his natural reaction is to get his hands up to keep from getting smacked. Receivers are taught to catch with their hands for good reasons. I found this subtle change helped my receivers to actually catch more balls.

I had a good day throwing the ball. The other three guys seemed to get over their jitters by mid-afternoon, and were better able to showcase their talent. When Coach Mason finally called it a day, he held me back after the others had left.

"Remember last year when I was able to keep the press away from you?" he asked.

"Yes, and I really appreciated it."

"Not happening this year. We have been directed to the media center that has been arranged for camp. Normally the coaches give their observations of how their players performed today. I was told your presence has been requested."

"Should I go shower first?" I asked.

"Only if you promise to come back."

"I hadn't thought of that," I confessed.

I went inside the Methodist Training Center, and took my shower. I put on shorts and one of the jerseys the camp had provided for me. Quaid waited to show me where to go. I think his real purpose was to make sure I didn't take off. When I walked in, Quaid led me over to Coach Mason.

We listened as one of the coaches talked about his charges. I was surprised at how technical the discussion was. The questions asked were surprisingly on target. Then I looked closer at the crowd. They had the scouts up front asking the questions. In the back, there were football coaches from the various universities. This was not your normal sports reporters' press conference. These were football junkies!

Coach Mason was next. He had me go up with him, and we sat behind a table with microphones and with the Nike logo hanging on the back wall.

Coach Mason: I'll make comments about my players, and then we will answer questions. I have with me David Dawson who was recently named Co-MVP of the Elite 11 camp. David is currently the number-one rated quarterback in the junior class...

Coach Mason did a summary of each of us. He must have complete dossiers prepared by the FBI. He rattled off stats, injuries, and then a summary of his observations about each of us. He saved his observations about me until last.

Coach Mason: David made considerable progress in his development between his freshman and sophomore years. Amazingly, he has made a similar jump, just this summer. He hired Bo Harrington to prepare him for his upcoming junior campaign. Coach Harrington enrolled David for a week's training at the Sports Training Institute of Chicago.

This summer David has been working with his high school team five days a week, to prepare for the upcoming season. Participation is nearly 100% from team members. He has attended football camps at both Ohio State and Alabama, where he received offers from both schools. David is currently undecided, and also holds offers from Kentucky, Northwestern and Oregon.

David's ceiling has virtually no limit. He has the size, skill and leadership to be an impact player at the next level, and beyond. Right now, David's biggest problem is competition. He will not be playing against hard-enough competition. I'm sure that will be solved the day he enrolls in college.

Pegasus Scouts: David, what is your biggest weakness as you see it?

David Dawson: I have a long ways to go to be a student of the game. I need to get better at breaking down film, and understanding what I'm looking at. I also need playing time. I'm a strong believer in learning by doing. The more I can be under center and read defenses, the better I will become.

College Sports: Coach Mason seemed to be getting onto you today. What were his concerns?

David Dawson: Let's see, I was throwing the ball too low, I was rocking back on my heels instead of staying on my toes, I made a wrong read, I skipped a progression, but I scored, so I don't think he was really mad. Coach was making me a better player. Whenever I can get someone of his caliber to give me instruction, I will be there all day long! I just wish I could take him home with me!

Scouts: Where do you plan to play in college?

David Dawson: I was going to announce for Notre Dame, but Nike said I would have to leave if I did. My mom informed me I was going to USC. I had to let her know they passed on making me an offer.

Scouts: Seriously?

David Dawson: I know, weird, right? I think I made a mistake when I trounced their five-star recruit when I went to their camp, last year. I don't think they appreciated him having to carry my bags. Don't tell anyone, but I got lucky as hell. Ridge Townsend could smoke me nine times out of ten times. Plus, I had only played half a season at quarterback. I don't blame them for not making an offer.