MEMPHIS, Tenn. — Roy Adams’s two-story brick home is tucked neatly into a middle-class residential street. In the driveway, University of Tennessee and Southeastern Conference flags fly at full staff. On the front door, a poster urges his guests to adhere to a five-drink limit.

Adams may be 75 years old, but his home looks like something dreamed up by teenage fraternity brothers: he has 36 big-screen televisions, five TV viewing rooms, three game rooms, a wet bar and, on a recent afternoon, two tapped kegs.

Adams, a retired restaurant and real estate developer, has been called the Great Gatsby of college sports for his legendary game-day parties, which often include athletes, coaches and politicians mixing with a crowd that can top 100. But he is more than a septuagenarian party animal.

A 1963 graduate of Tennessee, Adams represents the twilight of a college sports booster. For more than 40 years, he cherished his role as a benefactor for players, even if it meant breaking a few rules. If college athletes generally receive gifts in the shadows, Roy Adams is the rare booster who crows about his largess.