Ripping the package open, I found a Florida driver’s license in the name of Wendy Wallace, along with a slip of paper listing the address of a shipping and container store, including the mailbox number, and the name of an apartment complex and unit number. There were also two keys on a keychain, one key much bigger than the other. And lastly, there was a picture of a man in his mid-to-late thirties. On the back of the picture was his name, Mitch Cameron, and “Get to know everything about him” written underneath it.
I found Mitch Cameron immediately. Everyone knows Mitch Cameron, since he’s the head football coach for a college in Central Florida. He is loved and hated in equal parts.
Mitch is thirty-seven years old and has been married to Mindy for the last ten years. Mitch and Mindy. How adorable. Mitch is also the father of two young kids, a boy named Mitch Jr. and a girl named Matilda.
This family is brought to you by the letter M.
It only took four days for me to learn everything about Mitch and what his daily life looked like, although I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why a college football coach was the mark. I’m never told who the client is, but I’m anxious to find out what’s going on with Mitch that necessitated hiring Mr. Smith.
Every day this week, I’ve ridden my bike to the practice field so I can watch him at work. Today, I’ve spread a blanket out, surrounded myself with textbooks just like the half dozen other students studying outside on a fall afternoon, the Florida sun turning my skin a gorgeous tan. I’ve never spent so much time outdoors.
Mitch seems well liked by his players. He’s tough on them but he’s also encouraging and not afraid to tell them when they’ve worked hard. Just like every day, when practice ends and Mitch sends the players to the showers, I pack up and head to the package center to check the mailbox. It’s been empty every time I’ve checked so far, but today I’m feeling lucky.
A little shriek of excitement slips out when I see the small envelope inside. Finally! I slide it in the waistband of my shorts and pull my shirt over it, leaving the store as quickly as possible.
I don’t open it until I’ve reached the safety of my apartment.
There is a single piece of paper inside that lists five names with a date and time next to each one.
I only need to google two names before I see a pattern. Every person on this list is a high school senior who lives within a sixty-mile radius of the university and has had an amazing football career so far. And there is speculation about where all of them will end up playing next fall.
At first, this seems ridiculous to me. Why am I here? To monitor some football coach and a handful of eighteen-year-old boys?
I deep-dive into high school and college football. I realize the millions and millions of dollars that universities make on the backs of these players before they go pro. If they’re lucky enough to go pro.
It is a big business.
There’s also a lot of talk about players getting paid under the table to pick one college over another—stories of bagmen dropping off cash late at night and communicating by burner phone, and even more mind-blowing are the college boosters, aka old people, who spend big money in the hopes that their alma mater might possibly win a championship. They throw cash at programs and expect results. And if they don’t get them, the money stops. There’s a real question as to who is actually running these programs: the school’s athletic director or the wealthy few writing the checks. All you need to do is google “T. Boone Pickens” and “Oklahoma State University” to get the general idea.
There is a big push to change the rules and allow college athletes to profit off their name and likeness. In fact, most people in the industry believe the NCAA will allow student athletes to accept endorsements as early as 2020 or 2021, but for now, it is strictly forbidden. If caught paying players, schools are fined huge sums and could even lose opportunities to go to bowl games at the end of their season, which kills their recruiting efforts. But the worst penalty is to the athlete. They lose their eligibility to play. Anywhere.
The last few jobs, I’ve used this time in the lull between getting information but still waiting for exact instructions to guess what the client has hired us to do.
Since the prospective players’ names were given to me, I’m guessing they play into this somehow. Is Mitch a dirty recruiter? Is the client a rival school who wants Mitch’s program in trouble?
I concentrate on the dates and names. I map out where each player lives, I learn their stats, I scour their social media.