We’re a couple days away from the 2012 NFL Draft. And I’m sure it will be real exciting. But look, if you want real draft talk, meander your ass over to ESPN. That NFL draft show where McShay and Kiper go at each other about who has the best pre-shower towel whip form or who looks better without a shirt on just started for the 894th time. Besides, they don’t even discuss what I consider to be the best part of the NFL draft, the busts. There’s just something about a franchise signing a “can’t miss” prospect to a multi-year, multi-million dollar contract only to see him fail miserably that gets me going. The clip of Ryan Leaf going ape shit on that reporter in the locker room makes me smile every time.
This won’t be about football though. It’s time to break down three of the biggest fraternal busts of all time. The following were all five star, first round bid prospects.
Frank “The Bank” Hapner
Frank was ‘old money’ embodied. His family made their fortune in the oil fields of west Texas, true 19th century aristocrats in a small Texas town. This fortune would set up the Hapners for generations to come. Wise investing and real estate dominance would keep the tradition going, and young Frank was a beneficiary of that. However, it was not just the Hapner fortune that made Frank such a sought-after prospect. He was a genius too. Frank aced his math portion on his SATs. He also got in early on an internship opportunity for a hedge fund and developed a keen business sense as well as an advanced finance and economic grasp. On paper, the kid had upper exec written all over him. His rush interview is still talked about to this day as the the most impressive in chapter history. It also didn’t hurt that his family owned 300 linear feet of waterfront on a nearby lake.
The one thing no one could figure out about Frank is why a guy who was seemingly a perfect candidate for all the MRS degree seekers never had any girls around him. Well, it turns out The Bank was fucking creepy, and even a bit rapey. At any given night during a casual house party, or shit, even during formal events, we all knew where to find him. He was always grinding away on the dance floor. It wasn’t just a, “Oh hey you’re hot; let’s hook up” grind either. It was a, “You’re going to enjoy this grind or I’m going to murder you in your sleep” violently thrusting grind session. His eyes would be wide open, biting his bottom lip, hair drenched with sweat, and he had this scowl on his face that can only be described as “serial-killerish.” It was like clockwork too. He just freaked girls out. It turns out everyone’s feelings toward Frank were justified. Frank actually did end up raping a girl his sophomore spring semester. He’s in prison now.
The super legacy. Hefferty had the bloodlines of a damn thoroughbred. His father was former chapter president and campus legend. His uncle was also an alum as well as starter on the football team. His grandfather was a definite shoo-in had he not gone Ivy league instead. And the topper: his great grandfather was a fraternity co-founder. These weren’t just former members; they carried big sticks. And from how well everyone got to know Wilson during rush, he seemed to be a certainty to carry on the family tradition. He was sharp-dressed, well-spoken, and a natural in front of the ladies. Everyone had high hopes for this kid, even if only for the sole reason to keep his family name in high esteem.
It turns out his champion bloodlines skipped a generation. His entire rush persona was a facade, apparently. Simply put, Wilson was a loser. After receiving his bid, he turned into a different guy, a guy no one wanted to be around. They’d quickly learn that he was in a long-term, long distance relationship. Damn near every weekend was spent road-tripping 200 miles to visit her, and the others were spent back home with his family. The only times he drank was during planned fraternity events, and he did so in extreme moderation. He would also get on his soapbox and preach about binge drinking and its lasting effects. After failing to pay his dues, he was balled, ending the longstanding Hefferty tradition. He was last seen playing on his iPad 2 at a local coffee shop.
Stu was the rare high-profile athlete/fratter combo. He had offers from every big name college football program for his gaudy high school statistics, superior stature, and arm like a rocket, the kind of talent that plays as a true freshman. He had the look, the local fame, and could drink like a goddamn camel. He was also quite the character. During his rush interview, O’Connor sat casually answering questions with his nuts out the entire time. I’m talking slacks, blazer, boots, nuts. When asked by the interviewer why his testes were in plain view, he played it coy. “What are you talking about?” Ballsy move. He knew he could get away with it, though. He was the only one who could. As far as what a fraternity covets in a potential new member, he had it all. He was a true game changer, both on the field and in the fraternity.
Stu ended up having quite the addictive personality. He was a high-profile athlete with aspirations of the NFL and a seven figure salary. He needed an edge, though. He turned to the needle his freshman year to take his game to the next level. The Vitamin S he was taking turned him into a completely different guy. The fun-loving Stu everyone had known turned into a violent, hot-headed freak of nature. He went from having the perfect amount of asshole to an abundance of fuckface. His roid addiction later developed into some harder shit, and a lot of it. At any given time, he was carrying enough narcotics to set off a federal investigation. It was ruining his shit. His brothers finally had to step in when they witnessed Stu forcefully injecting the pledges with steroids because he was “tired of them being pussies.” Stu lasted one year, lost his scholarship and was kicked out of school.