What does it do to the mind of an 18-year-old college athlete to have hundreds of thousands of dollars in his bank account?

"I pray for them all the time," Tremayne Anchrum said. "Because I had a great upbringing. I had great parents. I had a great support system. And you know what? I still did a lot of stupid things. So I can't really imagine people with no support system and who have bad influences, listening to everyone who DM's them. They might not have the best decision-making process. I definitely feel for them, because it's hard being young in this time period. And I don't think people give enough grace when they see people mess up. You're a product of your environment, and a lot of people don't come up in the best environment. So now you add money to that mix, and things might not be perfect."

The collegiate model was totally different when Anchrum was an offensive lineman for Clemson from 2016 to 2019. Since then he has been in the NFL and seen what it's like behind the scenes at the professional level.

Anchrum, currently a free agent, is back in Clemson this summer training at the Tigers' football facilities.

He joined The Dubcast to talk about life after football, what to make of the current state of the college game, and his enduring love for Dabo Swinney.

In 2019, Marcus Lattimore was inducted into the University of South Carolina Athletic Hall of Fame and it looked like one of the happiest moments of his life.

Instead, he was at a major life crossroads as he battled the trauma from trying to figure out his identity away from football.

Soon thereafter, Lattimore and his wife moved to Oregon and he basically scrubbed every trace of football from his existence.

For so long, Lattimore was universally recognized and beloved back in his home state. People felt like they knew him because of what he did in a No. 21 jersey and what he said in press conferences after games.

Turned out they didn't know much about him at all. Turned out he didn't even really know himself.

Lattimore, who has been in Portland for the last five years, has made a whole new life for himself as a spoken-word poet and a speaker at drug and alcohol rehab centers.

He recently published his first book titled "Scream My Name," a story of how one of the most prominent names in Palmetto State sports history found his true self and transformed his life.

Lattimore's football career basically ended when he suffered a devastating knee injury in 2012 against Tennessee.

"It's been a grueling experience, but it's definitely been worth it," Lattimore said. "I was dealing with a lot of uncertainty and a lot of existential questions that I wanted answers to. Like: Who am I outside of football? And what do I do outside of football? If you keep throwing those questions into the atmosphere, it's going to lead you somewhere."

These are the same questions, and the same trauma, that confront high-profile athletes from all over when the cheering stops and they look in the mirror. Former Clemson star Tajh Boyd battled years of depression when his NFL aspirations were cut short and he tried to carve a niche in the real world.

Lattimore is speaking for Boyd and many others when he reflects:

"From a very early age, I thought that football was who I was as a human being. So when it's stripped away, there's a dying in a sense. Part of you dies. The old me died and I had to figure out how to go about life, how to resurrect as Marcus Lattimore without a football. Those were questions that I couldn't run from.

"When you're 18 years old and you hear 60,000 people screaming your name, your brain changes forever. Pleasure was around every corner for me. You need a balance, and I couldn't find that balance at home."

Lattimore also shares something that has never been revealed publicly: He committed silently to Clemson assistant Jeff Scott in the summer of 2009 before his senior year at Byrnes High School.

He later signed with South Carolina, but he said he has a deep respect for Dabo Swinney and the culture he's built over 16 seasons as the Tigers' head coach.

Brian Murphy is based in Raleigh and his title is Sports Investigative Reporter for WRAL TV.

Of late there's been a lot to investigate at North Carolina's football program as Bill Belichick operates in a shroud of secrecy so thick that his players didn't have jersey numbers during the Tar Heels' recent spring game.

In addition, Belichick's 24-year-old girlfriend has taken on a strange role within the football program as she regularly scrutinizes UNC's communications staff for not doing a better job protecting the image of Belichick and those below him (including Bill's son Steve, the Tar Heels' defensive coordinator).

Here is an excerpt from Murphy's coverage of a spring game that was not remotely like most spring games:

No numbers on the jerseys for any player throughout spring or in Saturday's final practice.

No player interviews throughout spring or after Saturday's final practice.

No assistant coach interviews throughout spring or after Saturday's final practice.

Belichick spoke to the media near the beginning of spring practice ... and not again. Not even at the end of Saturday's event. Didn’t even pick up the microphone to thank everyone for coming out or tell them how important their presence this fall would be.

Murphy, a graduate of UNC, is a former newspaper sportswriter who covered Georgia Tech during the Chan Gailey era before moving to Boise and having a front-row seat to the Broncos' incredible rise to football prominence.

He was there for Boise State's unforgettable 43-42 triumph over Oklahoma in the 2007 Fiesta Bowl.

Before moving back to his roots in Raleigh he lived in Washington D.C., where he covered Congress for the News & Observer of Raleigh.