West Lafayette, we are here.

            This new thing with Mrs. DuMont has got to come to an end. I've been trying to make some actual money, clear some cases or get something to eat when she calls, or shows up, or sends the Boys over to pick me up. I should ask her why I don't get a ride in the Beemer.

            The boys darkened my door, again. I was persuaded to follow them down to the big car and got a ride to the compound. Buttons got pushed, gates opened and I was led to a small room with a floor-to-ceiling dry-erase board on one side, a desk with a monitor in the corner and a series of video monitors mounted on the wall opposite the dry-erase board. The room was bright, well-lit, and had a sense of ultimate climate control. It felt like the perfect 65 degrees and the air seemed like they had put a humidifier and a de-humidifier in the room and let them fight it out.

            I was ushered into the room, the Boys waited outside. I was told not to touch anything. It's like they know me, or something. Mrs. Dumont showed up looking like she was on her way to the country club, or bridge, or megalomaniacs anonymous. "So, what do you think?" she asked, proud as clucking hen.

            "I haven't seen this kind of set up since 'The Thousand Eyes of Dr. Mabuse,'" I said. "Who does your interior decorating, Fritz Lang?"

            "It's funny that you should mention him. I met him when I was in college. His best work was behind him, and that monocle of his was just for show. He did like to chase after us young girls--not that he ever had a chance, with me."

            I suddenly imagined grainy, 8mm footage from a pool party in the Hills, circa 1950's. Unfortunately, my mind conjured up present-day Mrs. DuMont, in a bikini, playing splashy-splashy. I shook my head. I'd rather try to tackle Mike Rozier in his prime, one-on-one, without pads.

            "What's the set up?" I asked. "Video conferencing? Getting the gang in-line, like SPECTRE? What?"

            "You will see, in just a moment." She smiled at me, patiently. She reminded me of a cat stalking a bird. A man walked into the room. He looked to be mid-forties, beard, long-ish, not well-maintained hair. He was wearing grey slacks, a grey, button-down shirt, a blazer with elbow patches, glasses, and a bow-tie. It was like they had called central casting and asked for a 'nerdy professor' to appear in a bit part. he barely noted me as he went over to the desk, pulled out a tablet device and started tapping.

            One by one, the monitors flickered to life. Out of 24 screens, 8 activated. I didn't know who all of them were, but the two I recognized are on the football team, and are on the two-deep.

            "Good afternoon, gentlemen," the professor greeted the screens. "Who would like to go first?"

            "I would," said one the players I recognized. "I've got Doc Maz for U.S. Military History. I need to turn in a paper on whether or not we should have nuked Japan."

            'The Professor' started tapping and swiping on the tablet. "Ah, yes. Ok. Yes. Ok. Excellent. Yes, for Maz, stress the importance of the casualty figures, downplay the 'scare the Russians' aspect, cite the Rhoades work as a major source, and debunk the revisionist line of argument. Got that?"

            "Yeah," the player said and his screen blinked off.

            Mrs. DuMont motioned me out of the room. In the hallway, out of earshot, she gave me the low-down. "This is what educational support is really all about. The 'tutors' the university provides are really nothing more than 'hook-up' opportunities. This way, student-athletes, not just football players, can gain insight to their professors, based on past results. We don't give them the answers, but we point them in the right direction."

            "It sounds quite noble, if a bit shady at the same time," I said. "How do they know to come to you? What if the University finds out? what if the NCAA finds out?"

            "You have been paying attention, haven't you?" she admonished me. "We have connections, everywhere. We know if an athlete is struggling with schoolwork before the University does. We initiate contact and give the player an opportunity to do better. That keeps more of them eligible, which makes the University happy and the NCAA is so back-logged and tail-chasing, that they won't investigate a school where the players are passing classes at a great higher than the overall student body."

            I heard a familiar voice ask a question about Dr. Renee's 20th Century Feminist Literature class. Poor guy. "So, the professor is...?" I asked.

            "Someone we are giving a second chance to." Mrs. Dumont said. "Just because one has to leave a job because the words 'sexual', and 'misconduct' come uncomfortably close together, doesn't mean they aren't very good as an educator."

            I nodded in apparent agreement. I listened to a few more questions and my mind started to wander. I knew she was going to ask me about the game, she always did. I don't know why, after this week, she would even bother. It was a negative-13 point swing from my prediction to the reality. I haven't been that far off, in a while.

            "I know this is a lot to digest," she said in a voice that I suspected she thought was kindly. "let's get you back on to more familiar ground, and we can talk about just how intertwined we are with the Athletic Department. Tell me your thoughts on Purdue."

  

              "When it comes to Purdue," I said,  "I just have to shrug and say, 'I think we should win this one.' Should is the operative word. I don't think in terms of 'will' in this one, or any of the remaining games."

            "Nebraska should beat Purdue," I continued. " Purdue is terrible. Purdue got trucked by Minnesota. Purdue got suffocated by Wisconsin. Purdue's only win was against Indiana State. Purdue also played Sparta to within three points, after a -3 turnover ratio, so if you let them hang around, they can scare you."

            "How do you think Nebraska will respond to last week's loss?" she asked. "I think they will be fine. I'm starting to think they play better on the road, than at home. they seem more relaxed, the Illinois game, notwithstanding. Purdue plays for a fan base that hasn't given a rat's ass since Drew Brees was there. The energy level will be low, the interest level will be low. Tommy is out. Huge opportunity for Ryker Fyfe. He isn't as athletic as Tommy, but he seems to know the system as well as anybody. Maybe they'll lean on the running backs, more. Maybe this is good, in that Purdue has been scouting Tommy, the whole time, and have nothing on Fyfe."

            "When you boil it down, what do you get?" Mrs. Dumont asked.

            I thought about it for a good, long while before answering. "I'm going off the rez, on this one. Ryker has an outstanding game. Comfortable win, starting a quarterback controversy, just in time for Michigan State. Final score, Nebraska 31-Purdue 14."