The following first appeared in last Gold and Black Express digital magazine.
It was a decade-and-a-half ago, but really not all that long ago, that Drew Brees made that throw to Seth Morales, that heave against Ohio State that turned out to propel Purdue to its promised land.
That play, the one that the Boilermakers wouldn't have gone to the 2001 Rose Bowl without, and the one fans were willing to pay for the chance to re-enact this weekend, was maybe Purdue's peak in the modern era.
Today, things are barely recognizable.
Winning has given way to losing.
Exciting offense has given way to whatever term you'd use to describe this current state of affairs.
And robust, energized crowds in Ross-Ade Stadium have given way to sparse and sterile ones pushing the bounds of apathy.
Brees, meanwhile, is entering the home stretch of a legendary NFL career, then whatever comes next.
Politics, maybe?
If Drew Brees wants to, he could be governor of Louisiana one day, if you ask me. Or mayor of New Orleans. He could run for president one day.
If he wants to.
If he doesn't, he can use that razor-sharp mind of his and acute business savvy to spend the rest of his life super-sizing his bank account some other way and making sure his kids' kids' kids' kids' kids come into this world with a nice little nest egg.
Yeah, that's Drew Brees' life right now.
Good work if you can get it.
And though Purdue did play a role in helping him along, he has graduated past the point of being indebted to it.
Yet, here was Brees, one of the most recognizable and influential people in sports, back on campus this weekend, doing so around the funeral of former teammate Will Smith, tragically and senselessly killed just a few days ago.
The schedule had to be worked around, but this pro sports icon had committed to coming back to West Lafayette to sign autographs for money for Purdue and throws footballs to fans for even more money for Purdue. He gave money to Purdue for the badly needed training center project for which ground was broken on Friday. His name already adorns Purdue's academic-services center, because he gave a lot of money for it.
Last summer, Brees "hosted" that football summit in San Diego, playing a lead role in trying to help Purdue talk through its football problem.
He doesn't have to be doing any of this, not anymore.
There are no — or at least very few — connections here that have endured.
Purdue has already replaced the guy who replaced Brees' coach, Joe Tiller.
Teammates and other coaches have all scattered, as people tend to do over the span of a decade-and-a-half.
A.D. Morgan Burke is on his way out and upper leadership at the university has turned over multiple times since Brees was a Boilermaker.
Purdue is still Purdue. Institutions endure as people come and go. But Brees' ties are mostly undone.
And the football has gotten to the point where Purdue needs Brees more than Brees needs Purdue. From a football perspective, Brees' association with the program remains one of the best things it has going for it.
People like Brees, those who've got the world by the you-know-what, they don't need to associate themselves with anything but excellence.
Yet, again, here's Brees still standing by his alma mater when it needs help.
Drew Brees is a great football player, and though I can't claim to have known him in any meaningful way since he left this town so long ago, I am comfortable saying he's a pretty special human being as well, a transcendent personality capable of helping shepherd a city through unspeakable crisis just as comfortably as an offense through third-and-nine.
Even at a young age at Purdue, you could tell there was something special about the way this person carried himself, the innate wisdom he possessed and the whatever-it-was that drew people to him and made them want to follow.
Brees has succeeded in some small way because of Purdue, but people like him don't fail.
There is no debt to be paid here.
Brees could have moved on from Purdue years ago.
He's done the opposite, when the program he starred for has become what amounts to a charity case for him.
Drew Brees doesn't need Purdue anymore; Purdue sure as anything needs Drew Brees.
It says something about the man that he's remained among its strongest advocates.
It does say something.
But it doesn't say anything that we didn't already know.
It was a decade-and-a-half ago, but really not all that long ago, that Drew Brees made that throw to Seth Morales, that heave against Ohio State that turned out to propel Purdue to its promised land.
That play, the one that the Boilermakers wouldn't have gone to the 2001 Rose Bowl without, and the one fans were willing to pay for the chance to re-enact this weekend, was maybe Purdue's peak in the modern era.
Today, things are barely recognizable.
Winning has given way to losing.
Exciting offense has given way to whatever term you'd use to describe this current state of affairs.
And robust, energized crowds in Ross-Ade Stadium have given way to sparse and sterile ones pushing the bounds of apathy.
Brees, meanwhile, is entering the home stretch of a legendary NFL career, then whatever comes next.
Politics, maybe?
If Drew Brees wants to, he could be governor of Louisiana one day, if you ask me. Or mayor of New Orleans. He could run for president one day.
If he wants to.
If he doesn't, he can use that razor-sharp mind of his and acute business savvy to spend the rest of his life super-sizing his bank account some other way and making sure his kids' kids' kids' kids' kids come into this world with a nice little nest egg.
Yeah, that's Drew Brees' life right now.
Good work if you can get it.
And though Purdue did play a role in helping him along, he has graduated past the point of being indebted to it.
Yet, here was Brees, one of the most recognizable and influential people in sports, back on campus this weekend, doing so around the funeral of former teammate Will Smith, tragically and senselessly killed just a few days ago.
The schedule had to be worked around, but this pro sports icon had committed to coming back to West Lafayette to sign autographs for money for Purdue and throws footballs to fans for even more money for Purdue. He gave money to Purdue for the badly needed training center project for which ground was broken on Friday. His name already adorns Purdue's academic-services center, because he gave a lot of money for it.
Last summer, Brees "hosted" that football summit in San Diego, playing a lead role in trying to help Purdue talk through its football problem.
He doesn't have to be doing any of this, not anymore.
There are no — or at least very few — connections here that have endured.
Purdue has already replaced the guy who replaced Brees' coach, Joe Tiller.
Teammates and other coaches have all scattered, as people tend to do over the span of a decade-and-a-half.
A.D. Morgan Burke is on his way out and upper leadership at the university has turned over multiple times since Brees was a Boilermaker.
Purdue is still Purdue. Institutions endure as people come and go. But Brees' ties are mostly undone.
And the football has gotten to the point where Purdue needs Brees more than Brees needs Purdue. From a football perspective, Brees' association with the program remains one of the best things it has going for it.
People like Brees, those who've got the world by the you-know-what, they don't need to associate themselves with anything but excellence.
Yet, again, here's Brees still standing by his alma mater when it needs help.
Drew Brees is a great football player, and though I can't claim to have known him in any meaningful way since he left this town so long ago, I am comfortable saying he's a pretty special human being as well, a transcendent personality capable of helping shepherd a city through unspeakable crisis just as comfortably as an offense through third-and-nine.
Even at a young age at Purdue, you could tell there was something special about the way this person carried himself, the innate wisdom he possessed and the whatever-it-was that drew people to him and made them want to follow.
Brees has succeeded in some small way because of Purdue, but people like him don't fail.
There is no debt to be paid here.
Brees could have moved on from Purdue years ago.
He's done the opposite, when the program he starred for has become what amounts to a charity case for him.
Drew Brees doesn't need Purdue anymore; Purdue sure as anything needs Drew Brees.
It says something about the man that he's remained among its strongest advocates.
It does say something.
But it doesn't say anything that we didn't already know.
