My Dad had a barber shop down the street from Jesuit. Every now and then I'd see a long line of Blue Jays lined up out side of his shop and I'd know that one of the brothers had rounded the guys whose hair was more than about an eighth of an inch long and marched them to the shop for a buzz cut.
When I was about to enter HS the coach told my old man that if I wanted to he could get me in. We definitely couldn't afford it and I wasn't a very good student. I said no which severly POed my Dad.
I knew I'd never make it plus I wanted to play football and knew I'd get mangled. I went to Easton instead. As bad as Easton was it was still the better choice. (I wanted to go to Kennedy.)