Friday Night Light
Ryan J. Fitzpatrick ’05 just begs to be typecast in a teen movie.
As quarterback and captain of the undefeated Ivy League champion football team—not to mention a legitimate NFL-draft prospect—he has the resumé to play Big Man on Campus without even trying. He has an equally athletic girlfriend. Top off the whole 6’3 package with blond hair and blue eyes, and this Arizonan looks ready for his close-up.
Except that he’s a total goofball.
Behind the aura of championships won (two) and records broken (countless) is an overgrown kid who unabashedly downloads Avril Lavigne songs and enjoys calling his friends in the middle of lecture. Repeatedly.
“If they don’t pick up, he’ll leave a five-minute message of the professor lecturing,” roommate Brandon S. Kramm ’05 says.
His friends were all relieved when Fitzpatrick’s monthly cell phone bill arrived. Ninety minutes over his limit and a $150 tab put a damper on Fitzpatrick’s mid-class calls.
On the field, of course, he’s every inch the imposing leader, helping the Harvard football team to its first 10-0 season in over 100 years. His talents drew the attention of professional scouts all season, and he is currently looking ahead to April’s NFL draft.
But he doesn’t keep his game face on after four quarters are over. All it takes to make him smile is the thought of Harvard Square’s annual spring street fair.
“He’s the king of impulse buys,” Kramm says. “He looks forward to it all year.”
Fitzpatrick’s purchases from street vendors have included an African mask, a flamboyant Hawaiian shirt and a gaudy silver gangsta necklace—“huge obnoxious bling-bling,” says Kramm.
For someone who mischievously calls his friends at fancy restaurants just to disrupt their big dates, Fitzpatrick has a romantic side of his own. Last Valentine’s Day, he serenaded girlfriend Liza K. Barber ’05 with a rendition of “I’ll Be” and presented her with a three-foot, homemade, heart-shaped card.
But Barber, a captain of the women’s soccer team, reveals that Fitzpatrick wasn’t always so confident.
“He didn’t talk to me for the first two and a half years because I made him nervous,” Barber laughs. “And he’s supposed to be this big man on campus, and he’s too nervous to talk to me!”
So the stereotypical teen-movie BMOC model may not be the best fit. But there’s still time for a Hollywood ending—flash forward to April’s NFL draft, where Fitzpatrick is happily holding the jersey of his new pro team. A childlike glee illuminates his features. He reaches for his trusty cell phone. Cut.