When I was a freshman at Georgetown, an upperclassman leading one of my orientations gave our group an unexpected piece of advice: If you ever see John Thompson Jr. driving on campus, get out of the way, and get out of the way fast.
I nodded. Sure. An old basketball coach seemed like the least of my worries.
A few months later, walking down a hill on the back side of campus, I heard a car behind me. The stream of students walking between classes pressed its collective self against a fence on the side of the road.