UNC Student Decides to Go Pro

And, boy oh boy, do I have a tale for you.

True Baby Blue fans already know this, but FYI to those straggling in five minutes after tip-off and boycotting football games because UNC managed only a 6-and-5 record: There's a young man on campus who might not be with us much longer. Break out your handkerchiefs, because it might be time to bid adieu.

Yep, a UNC student is flirting with the notion of becoming a professional football player. He's in his third year at Chapel Hill and has played football and basketball while taking a full load of classes. By Friday, Jan. 12, this young man must notify Paul Tagliabue, the commissioner of the National Football League, if he'll enter his name in April's NFL Draft.

Rather than faxing the shirts-and-ties at NFL Headquarters or staging a Smith Center press conference, he has agreed to use the maiden voyage of "Groucho's Manifesto" to announce whether he'll stay or go.

It's a good thing you decided to do the crossword puzzle this morning, because you're about to read the scoop of the millennium -- and, since it's officially only 10 days young, I'm not being completely facetious.

You might be asking yourself, how did The Daily Tar Heel's back-page hump-day columnist snag this story?

Easy enough. It's his own.

Yep, you got it. Effective immediately, I'm declaring myself eligible for the NFL Draft.

The lure of millions of dollars -- but really, the thrill of playing on Sundays and Monday nights -- proved tougher to resist than buying Double-Stuffed Oreos when they cost mere pennies more than the regular ones.

The decision wasn't easy, but after talking it over with the mirror I think it's the right one. Sure, it's somewhat of a surprise, seeing how I'm 5 feet 9 inches tall in sneakers, weigh 163 pounds with the contact lenses, and haven't played a down for the University's official football team -- but that's only because they never asked. Still, it's not like my talent hasn't been on display.

In fact, let it be known that I've been part of an intramural championship while at UNC, and I have the free T-shirt to prove it. So what if it was in Sports Trivia? I've also played Napoleon basketball, -- in which you have to be under 6 feet to play -- softball, team tennis, hockey and bowling, but flag football has been the stage on which I've shone.

Don't check the records, 'cause I think I was "off" during every game. Last game I played quarterback, completing just one of 12 passes, and that was to the other team. But I was lucky to get a dozen in the air, because most of the time I was sacked more than groceries.

Still, our team's spirit was as high as a kite. We celebrated whenever we scored ... a first down. Both times.

When I realized it wasn't my day to pass the pigskin, I resorted to my "running" game. I'm blaming the new turf at Carmichael Field for rendering me just slightly slower than telephone registration, so I feel my four yards on eight carries wasn't indicative of my skills.

Besides, those guys from the dental school didn't inspire me to raise my play to my next level, just above plankton, and I only run fast with a sense of urgency. Like when I drove to school in August and slam-stopped my car in the parking lot of the Clara Barton rest stop on the New Jersey Turnpike, then sprinted at least 60 yards into the Wendy's men's room in fewer than seven seconds despite pulling my hamstring while dodging both the stoner mopping the floor and the fat guy observing the vending machine.

I'm not sure what made me run faster -- having to pee or wanting to get out of Jersey -- but I was moving.

I've also played kicker, although I'd rather not after Charlie Browning one too many extra points. Then again, I'd take that job because kickers often make or break the game, and I'm best when under duress. I can bang out a concluding paragraph, print, staple and pass in a paper seconds before the Bell Tower chimes the start of class, every time. So, every time, I do just that.

The only glitch is I'm not sure if my mom agrees with my decision. I told her, "Ma, I'm declaring myself eligible for the draft," to which she replied: "That's great, Dan, and I'm sure you'll do our nation proud, but I don't think we're at war right now."

But I'll fight for whatever team pays my salary, even if it's the low-six-figure minimum.

So what if my credentials aren't near those of guys like Julius Peppers, whose biceps could bench-press Ehringhaus? I have muscles almost that big, too, but I call them thighs. If a team's waffling between drafting me or another musclehead, there's only one thing they need to know that'll put me over the top like a running back hurdling a goal-line defense: No matter what I do, I never settle for second best.

I even buy the Double-Stuffed Oreos.

Dan Satter is a junior history and journalism and mass communication major from Framingham, Mass. Reach him at satter@email.unc.edu.