Carroll Angeles

McAfee not haunted by drink-and-swim incident
By Bob Kravitz, Indy Star
October 21, 2011
(three pages)
It is early Tuesday night, two days short of a year since Pat McAfee's early morning Canal swim and Nick
Nolte-esque mug shot turned the Indianapolis Colts punter into a punch line around town and around the
nation.
So where does the Colts' free spirit spend that inglorious semi-anniversary?
Right here at the Broad Ripple Tavern, the last bar he visited (he thinks) before he went for his swim and
then got arrested for public intoxication after attempting to flag down a passing car. He wanted to call a
cab, but . . . "At that point, my phone had some water damage," he said with a smile.
There's a reason McAfee is here, slowly nursing two beers in an hour and a half, talking about the worst
moment of his life: It's because he won't hide. He won't cower. He won't stay at home every night and
watch "CSI" until his eyeballs bleed.
He won't let one goofball moment -- the kind of silly moment a lot of 20-somethings experience without
ending up on a police blotter and the evening news -- define him or diminish him.
One year later, he's able to laugh at himself, make fun of his little aquatic adventure and even produce T-
shirts that read, "I Swam With Pat McAfee," the proceeds going to different charities every month.
One year later, he remains a fan favorite, an approachable, chatty guy without inhibition who engages
people with his Twitter account, his online summer radio show and his good works in the community.
"I still go out once in a while," he said as people at the bar craned their necks and wondered, "Is that Pat
McAfee?" "But now I'm smart about it. That's the difference."
He was asked what he learned from the whole bizarre experience. Besides, like, don't drink and swim.
"Look, I was nationally humiliated, I became the butt of jokes and yes, I put myself in that situation," he
said. "But you know, there were people making fun of me who've done far worse things. I just reached a
point where I stopped giving a damn what people who don't know me think of me.
"It was kind of the best thing that ever happened, because once you reach that point where you know you
don't have to be anybody but yourself, and stop caring what people who don't know you think about you,
you start figuring out life a little bit. I mean, the way my story was being covered, you would have thought
I was some kind of murderer. I was a 23-year-old kid who drank too much."
If that sounds a little bit angry, that's because it is. He's still bitter about the way his story was covered in
the local and national media. He still gets upset whenever The Indianapolis Star's website rolls out that old
mug shot. But that's the double-edged sword of celebrity, a price that's paid in a world of instant
information.
Here was the bottom line then, and now: He didn't get behind the wheel of a car drunk. He didn't engage in
violent behavior. He didn't hurt a soul.
It was dumb. It was embarrassing. It was regrettable.