If Kevin Hart had staged his fake signing to poke fun at the system, we’d give him a standing ovation. It was beautifully done. But, no, the 18-year-old high school senior at Fernley High School in Nevada was desperately serious. This wasn’t a parody. He wasn’t being facetious or sarcastic. He wasn’t laughing at life.
Hart is the kid who told the world last week that he had signed a national letter of intent to play football at Cal, the climax of a charade that began last September when he told his high school newspaper that he was being recruited by Nevada, Boise State, Washington, Oregon, Oregon State and Cal. Later he added Illinois and Oklahoma State to his list of suitors.
As you know by now, he made it up. Cal didn’t recruit him. Nobody recruited him.
Nevada coach Chris Ault said, “We knew of the kid. He was in our camp, but he’s not a scholarship athlete.”
That was the consensus. He had been to other college summer camps.
“He was in our camp. We evaluated him. We did not recruit him,” said Oregon coach Mike Bellotti.
Sadly, the Hart lad surrendered to his fantasy. On national letter of intent signing day last week, Hart organized his own press conference in his school gym. His parents, coaches and teachers were there. The gym was packed with students and teammates, not to mention television cameras and local newspaper reporters.
On the table in front of him were two caps — an Oregon cap and a Cal cap. After glossing himself, Hart dramatically picked up the Cal cap, put it on his head, and officially declared for Cal. The gym erupted in cheers. After all, in the entire history of Fernley High School, Hart was the first Division I football recruit, a 6-foot-5, 290-pound guard with a soft body and slow feet.
Within hours Cal responded. “Never talked to the kid. Never recruited him,” came the statement from the Cal football office. In the shameful wake of naked exposure, Hart had no place to hide. He was advised to issue a statement.
“I wanted to play D-I ball more than anything. When I realized that wasn’t going to happen, I made up what I wanted to be reality,” his statement said.
National signing day has become a national mania of press conferences. Very little is done in private. Highly sought high school football players put their John Hancocks on the dotted line and send them off via Fed Ex to the colleges of their choice. This year national signing day was Feb. 6. I’m sure you noticed. It was in all the papers and on TV. Prior to signing day, players often make oral commitments which are binding on the school but not the player. It’s smart to announce an oral commitment because it’s an ace in the hole. The player can change his mind, as D.J. Woods of Strongsville did twice when Nebraska and then West Virginia changed head coaches. Woods officially signed with Cincinnati.
Usually the signings are done the first thing in the morning and picked up by Fed Ex by 10 a.m. In order to get everybody on television, however, recreations are staggered throughout the day, about one an hour to allow time for the TV crews to race from school to school. That’s what you see on television — staged recreations. There’s no doubt that Hollywood has influenced official signing day.
Let me tell you about Roy Hall, a wide receiver who was with the Indianapolis Colts last season.
When Hall was at Brush High School in Lyndhurst, he called a press conference early in the football season of his senior year to announce his college choice. The timing was odd. Hall, evidently, wanted the day all to himself. They put about 100 pupils in the library and Hall sat at a table with a Michigan cap in front of him. Dutifully, all the TV stations and the local newspapers were there. Hall babbled on and on about his hopes and dreams without naming the school. He was a slick customer.
At last he put the Michigan cap on his head but quickly removed it. Reaching behind him, he withdrew an Ohio State cap which was hidden by a drape. He put on the Ohio State cap and declared himself a Buckeye.
This arrogant, narcissistic kid toyed with us. He thought he was so cute, but he deceived himself. I have rooted against him ever since. Sometimes a high school kid should act like a high school kid.
Then there was Tony Fisher, the former Ohio Mr. Football from Euclid High School, who remembered making his decision to play football at Notre Dame 10 years ago.
“I woke up on signing day and declared it was Notre Dame,” Fisher said. “Ohio State and Penn State were my other top schools. I told my mother, and we called the wide receivers coach at Notre Dame and told him. I told our athletic director at school.”
That was it. Word leaked out quickly to the TV stations, who chased him down at home. Mr. Football was too modest to call his own press conference.
After six years in the NFL, Fisher is now rehabbing from ACL surgery on his knee. Once again, he’s working out in private. As usual, no press conference.
I kind of like that.
Dan Coughlin is a columnist for The Chronicle-Telegram and a sportscaster for Channel 8. Contact him at ctsports@chroniclet.com. 

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