Where have you gone…Dean Brown

Just like in so many other circumstances he faced, though, Brown dealt with the setback and forged ahead.

As the commencement speaker at Notre Dame in 1990, Cosby was invited to address the black graduates prior to the ceremony. With a 300-pound frame that helped Brown start at right offensive tackle throughout Notre Dame's school record 23-game winning streak in 1988-89, plus a persona that earned him the moniker "Big Happy," Brown was a conspicuous target for Cosby.

"What's your grade-point average?" Cosby asked Brown, who majored in business and American Studies and was a member of the choir. When Brown responded it was 2.5 (a B-minus to C-plus categorization), Cosby, an outspoken critic of the lack of educational excellence in the black community, shot back: "That's nothing."

He brought Brown on stage to engage in what observers called an embarrassing debate that shook Brown more than any defensive end from Michigan, Miami or USC ever did. As Brown tried to explain the balancing act involved in academics, being part of the nation's No. 1 football program, tending to family needs and extracurricular work, Cosby dug in even more.

"When we left there, (Cosby) said, 'I cannot be party to celebrating any result that has not been part of the very best effort to reach excellence,' " recalled William P. Sexton, vice president of University relations 15 years ago.

For some time, the impromptu meeting with Cosby had a profound, numbing effect on Brown, whose childhood was somewhat comparable to more famous teammate Chris Zorich's impoverished, single-parent background.

"What I had to do is understand that I hadn't gone as far as I had by being a slouch or not aspiring to something great," said Brown, 36, on the time it took him to recover from the denigration. "There were certain things I agreed on with Mr. Cosby. I just think his timing was horrible because he didn't understand that for the first time in my family, somebody was graduating from college.

"What hurt me the most is that day was for my mother — she still has my diploma — and the moment was tarnished. She was desperate for her two boys to be successful. That was my thing to show her, that it was a mission accomplished." These days, Brown is accomplishing even more as the dean of students at Friendship Edison Collegiate Academy, the second largest high school in Washington D.C., and one that is committing to excellence with a 90 percent graduation rate (the average is 59 percent in D.C. public schools) despite its location in one of the town's rougher areas.

"A lot of the students are learning my first name is Dean," said Brown, who lives in Bowie, Md., with his wife of 12 years, Brenda, and two daughters, Alyssa (7) and Lauren (4). "Sometimes I don't know if they're calling me Dean to respect the position or are just trying to be smart alecks."

Brown, who also is the offensive line coach for the school's recently formed football program, views his job description as disciplinarian, educator, counselor and motivator.

"I held on to the belief that I was destined to do what I'm doing," Brown said. "Just because I didn't realize it or tried to fight it when I was at Notre Dame didn't mean I wasn't created for it. I can easily relate to a lot of kids here that most wouldn't be able to. I've been equipped to do this."

Growing up in Canton, Ohio, Brown became the man of the house at age five when his mother, Saundra, suffered a stroke shortly after the father left the home. He also became a role model for his younger brother, Michael, who graduated from Baldwin-Wallace and is now a director for a YMCA in northeast Ohio.

"My mother was desperate for us not to follow in the same vein as most of the males who were in my family," Brown said. "Every male older than me at some point went to jail. We fought to eliminate that, and sports were a vehicle we used.

"It was tough to fight the lure of wanting to be like the guys around the neighborhood who I thought were successful, the ones doing the drugs, prostitution rings and stuff like that to make money. Yet I knew I was somebody who was blessed with the potential to get out of a given situation, and God equipped me to do that through athletics and the capacity to work hard in the classroom."

Brown credits the confidence he built in school, on the gridiron and at home for giving him his disposition.

"I understood early on the power to influence the way people see things," Brown said. "It doesn't cost anything to smile, it doesn't cost anything to say something good."

A Parade All-American at Canton McKinley, Brown was a member of Lou Holtz's first recruiting class (1986) that went from 5-6 and 8-4 records its first two years to 12-0 and 12-1 in the last two.

"I love Lou Holtz more every single day I'm alive," said Brown, whose 410-pound bench press represented the team best for the 1988 national champs. "He was a genius at making you believe you were more capable than what you allowed yourself to be. The things he showed us I share with a lot of kids now. It's simple yet profound. I must have listened to a few things he said because a lot of things he said become truer and truer."

During his time at Notre Dame, Brown was involved in Big Brothers and a tutorial program. However, two of the kids he mentored came from horrid backgrounds. Brown was humbled and became introspective when one of them flunked out of school and another broke off contact. One day while driving through Chicago, Brown found him, by chance, dealing drugs.

"That stuck with me for a long time because you have to ask the question, 'What are we really doing to try to thwart some of these things happening to young people today?' " Brown said. "I liken it to trying to run up on a down escalator. The exertion has to be like Newton's law in motion — a force will continue in the same path unless it's met with an equal or opposite force. We're not meeting this problem with equal force.

"It's not measured in the vagueness or rawness of what you do; it has to be a calculated force that's opposing what's going on with these kids. Sometimes it requires you to listen. Sometimes it requires you to get into a kid's face. It's not about lip service and saying we're doing something."

Drafted in the 12th round by the Indianapolis Colts, Brown was on the San Diego Chargers' roster in 1990 but knee problems forced him to quit football in 1992. He then used his business degree to work for prominent Notre Dame graduate Jay Jordan and Tom Quinn, an Irish defensive back from 1966-68. Brown credits them with providing a hands-on education on how to operate a business that he now implements in his current role.

From 1992 to 2003, Brown worked in Chicago and was an assistant to the operations manager for Fannie Mae Candies, where he didn't quite reach his desired position.

"They wouldn't let me in to be a taste tester," laughed the corpulent Brown. During his time in the Windy City, Brown also served as a youth pastor. While working in one neighborhood, he grabbed the attention of a current principal in Washington D.C., who recommended him to be a dean in the nation's capital. Initially reluctant to uproot his family from Chicago, Brown ultimately decided the opportunity would allow him to channel his energies into aiding youth while also spending more time with his own family.

Although Brown works in a public school, the code of discipline includes uniforms for the students. Brown also is excited that the school's football team is attracting more interest and might have enough players next year to assemble a junior varsity program.

"I don't think there's a day that goes by where my experiences at Notre Dame or in football don't come up," said Brown, who has a Play Like A Champion Today placard in his office.

"A lot of kids, once they leave here, they go back to the same environment that's not conducive to being successful. That's what the fight is every day for us. It's to change the mind-set, the whole notion that you have to buck authority, that there's an easier way to get what you need, and it's not through violence."

Even Cosby would have to approve of Brown's work.