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After realizing he was getting nowhere with the Allens, Coach Kelly
called Brad's high school coach, Nick Coleman.
“If you have this kid’s interest at heart,” Kelly
told the Venice High coach, who promptly relayed the conversation
to the Allens. “… He’s an academic kid. This is the best academic
university in the United States. Don’t let him say no to us before
he visits. Encourage him to come.”
Kelly then called Bill again.
“Do you really know what you’re telling your
kid?” the coach asked.
“Well, it’s Brad's decision,” Bill answered.
“No, it’s not,” Kelly fired back. “He’s only
18 years old.”
In all fairness to Kelly, Brad was the perfect
recruit for a school like Stanford. Only a tiny percentage of the
prep football players in the United States would even meet the academic
requirements for admission to the university. So when a player came
along like Brad, who was not only sensational in the classroom,
but considered one of the nation’s best players, it was imperative
that Stanford make a push for his services – no matter where he
lived. There just weren’t many players out there like Brad Allen.
As it turned out, Kelly didn’t lament Brad's
decision for long. In January, months after his contact with the Allens
had ended and weeks before National Signing Day, the assistant coach
left Stanford for a job at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina.
In his official statement after being hired, he mentioned wanting
to be closer to his Southern roots as one of the main reasons for
accepting the job.
Though Brad’s contact with Stanford
had ended, the other schools kept sending letters in waves. Some were
about playing time, some were about tradition, some were about his
medical school aspirations, and some bordered on unethical.
One coach sent Brad a letter that included derogatory
comments about his team’s current players in an attempt to give Brad hopes for early playing time. “TE update – We moved one of
those incoming freshman tight ends to def. end and the other one
is not as fast as we thought. We need you!”
Another school sent him a large postcard with
signatures from every coach on the staff. It read like the sentiments
that friends might scribble in a high school yearbook. Brad , we
need a few great ones. You are the
guy.” Brad , you are my No. 1 priority at TE.” Brad – Have a great year.” Brad we are excited about you! Hope
to see you this fall!”
You almost expected to see one of the coaches
write, “Raise Hell This Summer,” or “Friends Forever.”
Another school sent a letter that read: “Camp
has started and the TEs are dominating. Can’t wait to have you on
the team to have the next 50 reception TE. Today we put in 24 Bingo
Cross.”
Then right there, in the middle of the letter,
was a diagram taken straight from the school’s playbook. The coach
closed by saying the play couldn’t “be stopped with a guy like you.”
One curious aspect of the letters Brad received
was the contrast in handwriting. Most had the look of a coach’s
sloppy print, with a word or two misspelled or used incorrectly.
But some others appeared in perfect cursive, written with a glittering
magic marker and an obviously feminine writing style.
Brad got to the bottom of that mystery during
the summer when he and his family took an unofficial visit to the
University of Virginia. While walking through the football offices,
he saw letters being written to other recruits. “They have girls
– like the (recruiting hostesses) that show people around – they
have them write the letters,” he said. “You never really know.”
The one school that sent Brad the most letters,
in both men’s and women’s handwriting, was Vanderbilt. Like Stanford,
there were only so many kids that a school like Vanderbilt could
recruit. The Commodores weren’t just looking for great football
players, because honestly, great football players were rarely looking
at them. Instead, the coaches targeted good students who also happened
to be good athletes. Instead of trying to sell the chance to play
for a national title, they sold academics.
The players that took their education seriously
were the players that Vandy was going to go after. And the Commodores’
coaches pursued those players every bit as hard as the football
powerhouses went after their top prospects. Every day the Allens
opened their mailbox over the summer, it seemed like another handful
of letters arrived from Vanderbilt.
“I used to get like three letters from Vanderbilt
a day,” Brad said. “It got to the point where it’s like, ‘Holy crap.
Stop sending me letters.’”
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