A little might have been. But one day Davis called a rifle a gun, and the sophomores smelled a weakness. They hounded him. They stepped on his shoes and hollered, "Why aren't these shined?" They jumped into him at formation and threw discreet elbows into his gut. They busted his chops every night. "I'd lie awake," he remembers, "wondering when they were going to come in next." He was taking five packs of Vivarin a week and drinking two Cokes per class to stay awake.
When he blew the Wofford game, things just got out of hand.
According to several sources, to remind Davis that he had choked, a couple of cadets made him stand at formation the next day with his hands around his neck. The screaming and humiliation were delivered in industrial-sized doses. And finally something inside Davis couldn't take it anymore.
"Davis, why'd you miss those kicks?" a sophomore screamed.
"Davis, you got an attitude?"
"Sir, yes, sir!"
From that moment until he woke up a day later in the infirmary, Davis can't remember a thing. "I think I went crazy," he says. "They said I was hysterical."
Though the administration says it did not happen, sources say they were told that the sophomores threw Davis a blanket party. This is not to be confused with a towel party, in which you drop a dozen bars of soap into a towel, tie it up and beat a knob with it. In a blanket party the attackers sneak into the victim's room, throw a blanket over his head and do what they may. This time doing what they may meant taking Davis to a utility sink. They dunked Davis's head in the water five, 10,15,20 times.