Morris smiles when he hears that story. “He told me that one. I said ‘He’ll be the only one.’ It’s crazy. My mom cried when she first saw it.”

Morris talks a lot about family. Tim Murphy has described him as one of the most motivated kids he’s ever coached. Ask Morris what drives him. He’ll dish generically about wanting to be the best at everything he does. But press him a little harder on that point.

“I think it comes from my parents,” Morris says. “They’ve always just done a good job showing me the importance of hard work.” And the forces at work here become clearer. It’s about Vern Morris working three jobs and Jane Morris working two to send him to a boarding school Morris says was too expensive for them to swing. “Seeing them work so hard made me want to do the best I could while I was there,” Morris says.

And suddenly, the physics of the situation start to resemble those of any one of Morris’ neighbors on campus. People sacrifice for opportunities for their kids, and the kids try to live up. The pressure there is perhaps more compelling than any scout’s visit or looming draft date, and it’s something that makes Morris much like every National Merit Scholar in the dining hall or Intel finalist in the labs. Sure, the football paraphernalia is proudly displayed in his common room, but what Harvard student hasn’t displayed a science fair medal on the refrigerator, a debate trophy in the living room, a varsity letter on his jacket?

Throw out the free-body diagram—this sort of drive may not be measurable. Maybe the same will that sustains the fellow students who debate athletic recruiting at Harvard is the very same force that will ultimately propel Carl Morris to a long NFL career. Maybe Casey Kramer was more right than he knew when he whined that Morris was “just a guy.” And maybe that is the biggest reason to think Morris just might pull this NFL thing off after all.

—Staff writer Martin S. Bell can be reached at msbell@fas.harvard.edu