As a treat for the fund-raiser attendees, Rocky McIntosh and other current and former Redskins served the meal, which came in portions sized for the Hogs, Washington’s famed offensive line: a surf-turf aggregation of eighteen-ounce steak and three-pound lobster, surrounded by an archipelago of whipped, fried, and creamed sides. The Redskins delicately secured bibs along the nape of each of the guests. Running back Clinton Portis bibbed me, and I thanked him, saying, "You guys are really going all out." But in a bizarro NFL way he took my small talk as a request for some "special" off-menu service.

"I know what you mean," Portis snapped, like a masseuse who truly just rubs down knotty calves. "I’m not going to do all that."****

We were joined at the table by Berrian’s adrenalized business manager, Chris Rehnke, who also happened to be taking the STAR classes alongside his client. A lawyer by training, Rehnke grew up in Minnesota, but he met Berrian in Fresno, where he was running nightclubs. Rehnke assured me that B was super-excited about business school but was also 100 percent focused on playing football next year. As of this writing, no teams had reached out to Berrian, but Rehnke remained confident. He said B’s agent, Drew Rosenhaus, might even use the business-school commitment to demonstrate just how much Bernard had matured.

Berrian, well practiced in hearing others speak about him in the third person, listened abstractedly, at one point turning to engage another student in conversation. Later, while I arm-wrestled my lobster, Berrian told me that he expected to play three to five more years. About his long-term prospects, he said he did some broadcasting back when he was with the Bears, and people have suggested he also consider acting and modeling. At 32, Berrian does possess rakish good looks, with high cheekbones, almond eyes, and sharply angled eyebrows that seem perpetually cocked in an expression of jaunty knowingness. I was with him when a lovely stranger passed him a note with a telephone number:

_Call me _

_—Felicity _

Berrian still owned a 2,900-square-foot Minneapolis penthouse, which had been featured in an issue of Sports & Entertainment Today, a glossy lifestyle magazine for athletes that was started by another STAR student, Danisha Rolle, the wife of retired defensive back Samari Rolle. The magazine spread shows bachelor Berrian chilling on a gold-colored leather sectional, Chihuly-like glass shining all around him and sitting poised before his piano. On the subject of the many monkey artifacts around the apartment, Berrian told the magazine, "I just like monkeys. Don’t ask me why, I just do. I’ve got one monkey that’s hiding and another one that’s looking at himself in the mirror."

Raised in a town an hour north of Fresno in a strict two-parent military household, Berrian said he also was tough as far as rules with his own 10-year-old daughter. He explained that he was not the type to go broke just because the checks stopped coming. Even though he felt certain another team would eventually pick him up, he had been fine since leaving the Vikings. He’d always been relatively modest with his spending. After his big payday, he purchased just one crazy piece of jewelry, and his jeweler assured him he could repurpose it at any time if need be. In terms of business opportunities, he had to stay busy or else he’d go crazy with boredom. Early in his career, he sunk thousands of dollars into a venture fixing up and reselling old cars, but that didn’t work out. How come? As Berrian told me, his partner was his then-girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend. But other investments had done better. In Minneapolis, Berrian was one of the first football players to test a new mouth guard that previously had been worn only by hockey players. He put money in that company, as well as in a package-delivery business and in a management outfit having something to do with an up-and-coming San Francisco bor.