A Rebel by any other name

Saturday, Sept. 15, 2007 | 7:48 a.m.

Sam Baptiste thought he was going to be a Rebel.

At Lely High in Naples, Fla., classmates dubbed the star football player " The King. " Eastern Michigan and Kent State were after him, but UNLV offered him a scholarship. Or so he thought.

When the day arrived in February to sign with the university, he instead was left to tell an auditorium packed with parents , peers, coaches and teachers of an alternate plan. UNLV had made a mistake. Baptiste didn't find out until the last minute.

As Baptiste discovered, college football recruiting can be cruel. Universities routinely overbook, offering more scholarships than they have - making "blanket offers" - expecting to withdraw some as the slots fill up.

Even in that tough, competitive environment, however, Baptiste's experience stands out. If UNLV had told him earlier that it wasn't interested, he would have had ample time to find another school.

But by the time he learned of UNLV coach Mike Sanford's decision, he had no other options.

This fall, Baptiste is attending Tallahassee Community College - which doesn't have a football program.

"I learned that you can't always trust people," he says. "Also, everything happens for a reason. You have to stick with God and fight through it sometimes. That's how life is.

"I'm not bitter. That's how Division-I football is."

Even after Baptiste, a 5-foot-10, 158-pound cornerback who earned first-team all-area honors, told that Lely auditorium audience that he would be going to a community college in Buffalo, N.Y., the congratulatory letters kept coming to his home in Naples.

From UNLV staff. On UNLV letterhead.

"It was weird," Baptiste quietly says between classes at Tallahassee.

That about sums up his odyssey.

Sanford says Baptiste's recruitment was laced with misunderstanding and miscommunication. Regarding those congratulatory notes, Sanford is sympathetic.

"That was a mistake," he says. "I think it was a misunderstanding from the beginning."

Baptiste, 18, insists he was offered a scholarship by a UNLV assistant, he just can't remember by whom or when. The details are hazy.

Sanford says Baptiste might have been offered a scholarship by a previous member of his staff, but declined to name the assistant.

Only Noah Brindise, in private business in Florida, and Tony Dews, now on the West Virginia staff, are no longer Sanford lieutenants. Brindise could not be located, and Dews was on a road trip with the Mountaineers.

UNLV assistant Todd Berry, who replaced Brindise, visited Baptiste in his home shortly before the national signing period. A courtesy call to check in with a recruit, Berry says.

"I thought everything was good," Baptiste says. "OK."

According to Baptiste, on Feb. 6, a day before the start of the signing period, he got a call on his cell phone - the one with voice mail that announces "Hello, world!" when Baptiste doesn't answer.

It was Lely football coach Chris Metzger, asking to see him in his office.

On learning that Baptiste had made an oral commitment to UNLV, Sanford rang Metzger to say that UNLV wasn't interested.

"All of a sudden, he (orally) commits to us," Sanford says. "In my mind, we hadn't really offered (a scholarship to) him. In his mind, we had."

Technically, there is no scholarship until an athlete and his guardian sign a letter of intent during the official signing period. A UNLV official said no NCAA rules can be violated if no letter of intent was signed.

"That situation was very hard for me," Sanford says. "When I make a commitment - when we make a commitment - we'll stand by it the defensive staff wasn't completely on the same boat with the individual coach who was recruiting (Baptiste).

"Since that time, we haven't done anything else like that. We wouldn't do anything else like that. We've made sure we have great communication on those kinds of things."

UNLV scholarship offers now come only from Sanford.

"It's clear and concise I make sure an offer doesn't come from assistant coaches, that they're coming from me," Sanford says. "And once I give my word, we're going to be committed to it."

Baptiste's shaky academic history, Sanford says, and getting some commitments from other players at the same position who had their grades in order, doomed The King from Naples.

Still, Baptiste says he was led to believe UNLV would accept him as a "grayshirt," a common path for athletes who don't qualify academically out of high school. He'd boost his grades at a community college this fall and enroll at UNLV in January.

UNLV has enrolled such football recruits in recent years.

Sanford says he doesn't want to be known as a coach who routinely makes blanket offers.

"It's normal in college football," he says. "Nebraska does it. A lot of people ... Wisconsin. They blanket offer, then pull out at the end. We are a team that normally doesn't do it."

When Metzger told him Sanford's bad news, Baptiste says , he was heartbroken and speechless.

"I never knew they'd drop me," he says. "I never knew that was going to happen."

Metzger called UNLV "immoral." New Lely coach Steve Pricer, an assistant at the school for 30 years, calls the Rebels "unethical" and predicts they will have trouble recruiting in South Florida for years.

"Unfortunately," Pricer says, "it's the dirty side of high school recruiting. To see your own guy, at the last minute, get the rug pulled out from under his feet "

Baptiste's confusion became apparent inside the auditorium on Feb. 7, national signing day. He thanked his coaches and mother, Arlouse, who works at a nearby Marriott hotel and Wal-Mart, for their support. But he had to be reminded to say where he'd be playing college ball.

So he wouldn't sound directionless, he said Erie Community College in Buffalo, N.Y., where three teammates were headed.

Erie coach Dennis Greene says he's still interested in Baptiste, who never showed on the campus. "If you find him, give me a call."

Baptiste had gone to Milford Academy, in New Berlin, N.Y. He paid more than $2,000 to attend fall camp, then he returned to Florida for a break before classes started. He was shocked, he says, when a Milford official told him he had to pay $15,000 to return to the private school and play for the Falcons.

He pondered walking on at Florida State, but he wanted the security of a scholarship.

Ultimately, Baptiste still wants to be a Rebel at Ole Miss.

Mississippi coaches called him when they learned about the fallout with UNLV.

Baptiste zipped to Tallahassee and will have all four seasons of eligibility remaining at Ole Miss.

He attends math, reading and introductory college classes. He talks with 2-year-old daughter , Kayiana, frequently. He lifts weights and runs daily. He believes he'll play in the NFL, but he has other dreams.

He wants to earn a degree in international business and build a chain of nightclubs that also would have a restaurant and a barbershop.

At best, Baptiste's tale is mystifying. At worst, it's misleading. He thinks he knows how it will end up.

"I know there will be a payoff. I'll make it, and I'll be successful."

Hello, world.

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