Aug. 14, 2008

By Adam Lucas

It's always the quiet ones.

While you ponder that truism, consider this scene from the Kenan Football Center earlier in training camp. Approximately an hour before the Tar Heels hit the practice field on one of the many toasty days that have populated this camp, a few players were trying to catch some sleep in the players' lounge. This was a savvy move, as they were following the advice of Garrett Reynolds to seek out a dark spot and grab a nap at any available opportunity.

Herman Davidson was so successful in finding a cozy spot that he settled into a pleasant snooze. Too pleasant, in the eyes of one Carolina veteran.

The perpetrator gently placed an air mattress on top of Davidson, with the freshman still sleeping. Then, the wily Tar Heel climbed on top of a nearby couch and leaped, Jimmy "Superfly" Snuka-style, from his perch onto the air mattress.

Not surprisingly, Davidson immediately snapped awake.

Now, who would be your most likely candidates to pull such a trick? The perpetually smiling E.J. Wilson, perhaps? Maybe Marvin Austin? What about Greg Little?

Little isn't a bad choice, considering that he was the second-most frequently named UNC locker room prankster. But he finished a distant second to the runaway (and unanimous) winner...

Yes, Goddard, the quiet Roanoke High product who peppers his conversation with "yes sir" and "no sir." The fifth-year senior who has battled his way back from a series of tough-luck injuries to reclaim his starting safety job.

"You never know what Trimane is up to," says fellow defensive back Kendric Burney. "You can be sitting in the corner minding your own business and he'll get you with a bucket of water. If something happens, you always look for Trimane first because you know he'll be close by. And if you start something with him, it won't end just because the sun goes down. It'll keep going."

"Training camp is when he does most of his pranks," says Deunta Williams, Goddard's starting safety partner. "He'll throw water on you from behind or he'll jam your stool sideways in your locker room cubby."

Put Goddard on the witness stand to answer for these transgressions, and he adopts the wide-eyed innocent look that probably made him a teacher's darling in Robersonville.

"Hmmm, really?" he says, when told his fellow DB's have identified him as a mastermind. "I don't know what you're talking about."

So you relay the story of poor young Herman Davidson and the air mattress. And you receive that same guiltless gaze.

"I couldn't tell you anything about that," he says.

Melvin Williams could tell you about it, though. He could tell you a lot about it, because he saw it first-hand.

"Trimane is quiet, but he'll turn on you," says the transfer safety. "Those are the ones you have to watch. He's a sneaky one. When I got here, I thought he was so quiet and there must be something up with him. Now I know what it is--he's a big kid."

Eventually, after long minutes of intense questioning--think Nicholson and Cruise from A Few Good Men--Goddard finally cops to a mischievous streak.

First, he explains that it all began back during his freshman year, when a pair of sneaky upperclassmen (not surprisingly, he declines to name them) entered his training camp dorm room and flipped over his bed. That unleashed the beast.

Since then, he's been the punker, not the punkee. He'll name names on only one prank, and only then because it was an "accident."

"My sophomore year, I got John Choate by mistake," he says, ignoring the fact that believing Trimane Goddard got someone by mistake is like believing Tony Soprano's fortune really did come from the sanitation business. "I was giving him some Icy Hot and somehow some got inside his helmet. So he was standing out there at practice going crazy scratching his head. He thought I did it on purpose."

Gee, Trimane, wonder why he thought that?

Choate, a backup punter, is no longer on the roster. That means some other unfortunate Tar Heel has moved to the top of Goddard's list.

"No, nobody right now," Goddard says.

But then, his nature gets the better of him.

"Not that I can tell you about, I mean."

Adam Lucas is the publisher of Tar Heel Monthly. He is also the author or co-author of four books on Carolina basketball.