Faizon Brandon had been Tennessee’s starting quarterback for approximately one day when somebody photographed him walking across campus.

From behind.

Without his knowledge.

Then posted it on the internet beneath the headline:

“Big guy for our starting QB.”

Not Great to see Faizon on campus.

Not Excited about the opener.

A photograph of a freshman walking away, followed by a public invitation to evaluate his dimensions.

The picture included a backpack, a parked vehicle, a bicycle and enough uncomfortable energy to make a neighborhood-watch captain delete his browser history.

Brandon appeared to be minding his own business.

The camera appeared to be gathering evidence for a suspicious spouse.

Somewhere, a private investigator admired the composition.

Good angle. Stay with him.

His Son Took the Picture

The poster explained that his son had sent him the photograph.

Excellent.

That made everything normal.

The surveillance had not been personally conducted by an adult Tennessee fan. It had been subcontracted to the next generation.

A father had apparently received an unsolicited rear-view photograph of Tennessee’s quarterback from his son and made the only responsible parental decision:

Upload it so forty other men could inspect the subject’s frame.

This was not voyeurism.

It was a family business.

The board understood immediately.

One poster supplied a GIF of a man hiding behind a tree with binoculars.

Another offered someone crouching in the bushes.

A third submitted a man watching through window blinds.

The Tennessee quarterback had acquired an informal intelligence network staffed by fathers, sons and men awake after their wives had gone to bed.

PorchLightVol posted a GIF asking:

“You see how this looks, right?”

Everybody saw how it looked.

That was why they liked it.

Recruiting Terminology Provides Immunity

Then PongAndCircumstance introduced measurements:

“Peyton Manning was a 6’4”, 207-pound freshman. Faizon is listed as 6’3½” and 225. That’s a load for a freshman QB.”

That’s a load.

An innocent football observation delivered by a grown man comparing the bodies of two college freshmen separated by three decades.

Fortunately, he included heights, weights and the letters QB.

Recruiting terminology provides diplomatic immunity.

A man can publicly discuss a recruit’s thickness, length, frame, backside, flexibility and capacity to carry additional weight, provided he occasionally says upside.

He may zoom in if he mentions arm talent.

He may save the picture if the filename contains film study.

He may forward it to another man with the words:

“Look how well he carries 225.”

Football-wise.

This is an established legal principle throughout the Southeastern Conference.

Photoshop Is Warming Up

Give these people another forty-eight hours.

Somebody will produce an edit of Faizon holding a finger to his lips.

Shhhh.

Nobody knows whom he is shushing.

The boy hasn’t played a game, but apparently the haters must be silenced.

Then comes the hand across the eyes.

You can’t see me.

A strange message to communicate through a heavily edited photograph designed specifically for people to see him.

Next comes the helmet, the tinted visor and the open-mouthed scream toward an opponent who does not exist.

Add smoke.

Add lightning over Neyland Stadium.

Add a crown, a wolf and the words HIM or BUILT DIFFERENT in a font previously reserved for professional wrestling.

If things really get moving, somebody will remove the shirt and start adjusting the abdominal definition.

His wife will think he is finishing quarterly reports.

He’ll actually be in the basement trying to make Tennessee’s freshman quarterback look like the cover of an airport romance novel.

But with a Power T.

Therefore recruiting-related.

The finished tribute will be shared among several dozen heterosexual men, each of whom will admire the lighting, shoulder definition and overall aesthetic before commenting:

“Kid looks ready.”

The Night Shift

One poster briefly noticed the bicycle:

“Surely we can replace that scooter with something with four wheels!”

The object appeared to be a bicycle.

But identifying the transportation correctly was less important than recognizing a potential threat to the quarterback’s body.

Which everyone had already been examining.

Closely.

From behind.

One faction wanted to measure Brandon.

Another wanted to protect him.

A third appeared prepared to follow him across campus with binoculars and a bag of sunflower seeds.

Nobody proposed letting him walk to class without becoming evidence.

At 1:54 a.m., another poster returned with a smirking reaction GIF.

Nearly two in the morning.

Brandon was presumably asleep.

His admirers remained awake.

Watching.

Comparing.

Enjoying the discomfort of knowing exactly how this appeared while continuing anyway.

Peyton weighed 207.

Faizon weighs 225.

The bushes rustled.

The blinds opened slightly.

And somewhere in East Tennessee, a completely heterosexual father enlarged the photograph his son had sent him and whispered:

“That’s a load.”