Back from the Dead

I have noticed that even though I have not posted in a long time, this site is getting more and more views every day. Therefore, I have concluded that faking my own death in order to skyrocket it into fame was successful. I knew going into it that counterfeiting a death would be risky business, but I also knew that the only way for an artist to have their work appreciated is for them to be dead. With this in mind, I staged a head-on collision that resulted in a four-car pile up along the side of I-40. When the paramedics arrived on the scene I held my breath and did my best impression of Franklin Street on February 8th. Most people’s possum routine probably would not be enough to trick an educated and experienced paramedic; however, after years of faking deaths, injuries, and illnesses I consider myself a professional. Forty-eight hours later I picked up my Death Certificate; and according to plan, every since then Crib Calls has garnered a Lebron James+Tim Tebow amount of attention. Actually, it has finally got to the point where I felt like it was time to make my return.

But unlike Jesus of Nazareth, I have not come back from the dead to atone man’s sin. As a matter of fact, I am just coming back to take advantage of the popularity this site has gained while I was gone.  For all of you who just figured this whole time I was creating my next post with such diligence that it was taking a Detox-like amount of time to produce, I am deeply sorry. I actually was not working on it at all. I actually am just writing this in one sitting. I actually am just dictating it to someone else and they are typing it for me. I actually just letting someone else write it.

Anyways, I do have some interesting news to tell y’all about. After his complete obliteration of Kanler Coker’s bicycle-like scooter, Buddy Blackjack is scheduled to take on a new opponent later this week. The challenger is Tre Boston, and his scooter “Gator.” I would love to say that Tre is going to be a formidable opponent, and that I respect his scooter hustle; but I can’t.  The race will undoubtedly result in an absolute thrashing of Tre’s ego, courage, and self-respect. However, when someone challenges me and my best friend Buddy Blackjack, I feel it is my moral duty to take them behind the figurative woodshed, video tape it, and put it on the world wide web for all to see. And that is exactly what I plan on doing.

For all of the dedicated Buddy fans out there, here is a preview of what he is about to face later this week.

Until next time,


P.S. No, that was not a mistake. From now on I am only signing as “P” because I figured out how much more awesome that is than signing as “Caleb Pressley.” I think that my new sig will give this site a more James Bond-type feel. And that is precisely what I am going for.


Freshmen Orientation

This weekend I am heading back to Asheville to support my friends and colleagues who will be receiving their diplomas during Saturday’s graduation ceremony. It is almost a little sad really. It seems like just yesterday I was sitting in an old school desk desperately trying to hold my bladder because I had already used the bathroom pass three times during that period. Oh ya, that was yesterday. But high school still seems like a recent stomping ground. I was always a studious young lad; eager to listen and excited to learn. One might say that I was an introvert, bringing up the rear in a “nice guys finish last” world. One also might not say that. Who am I to say what one might say.

Needless to say, I was a class act in high school.

“Peace begins with a smile…” -Mother Teresa

I tried to always bring positive energy to the classroom environment!

When it is all said and done, I can’t deny I will be proud of the graduates and excited for what their futures hold. Some will enlist. Some will immediately enter the workforce. Some will try to rob a bank. Others will go to college. Regardless of their choice, you have to admire their aspirations to follow their dreams. Anything is better than sitting around and doing nothing.

For the kids like me who decided that college was the next logical step in their ascendance to a multi-billion dollar yearly salary, you all will soon attend freshmen orientation at your respective schools, if you haven’t already. The orientation program at Carolina is called CTOPS. It stands for Campus cafeterias Trick Oblivious Parents into believing that the food doesn’t actually Suck during the school year. At least I think that’s it. Whatever it stands for, it sells meal plans.

I have had my fair share of orientation experience as I went to one myself, and then have been on campus for about 50 other ones because Carolina hosts two per week all summer. Like every other UNC athlete, I know the process. I know the schedule. And I know the scheme. But I am not here to try to force you into believing anything. All I want to do is present the facts so that you can make an educated decision.

To drive the point home, let us role play. You just got back from your orientation and you are pretty excited because while you were on campus you saw over twenty football players, every sprinter on the track team, and the whole starting five for the basketball team…. plus the 6th man. Is this a coincidence, or are you just the luckiest freshman to every come to orientation? They were all just right there when you went to lunch. And then you saw even more of them when it was time to go to evening seminar. You even saw some at CTOPS After Dark—a freshmen only event. Oh boy, wait till you tell you friends back home. The same people you have been watching on TV for the last few years were around every corner you turned.

Alright, the role play is over now. Stop getting so into it, you are weirding me out. Okay, so now that I am done with the objective presentation of the facts, here is what I was getting at: athletes use orientation as a opportunity to get a leg up on the competition and get an early look at the talent that will be on campus in the fall. Think of it as a combine, if you will. They (Notice when I talk about the athletes I say “they” because I like to distance myself from all negative stereotypes regardless of validity behind them) are searching for top performers to move up on their draft board. They just want to see the 4.3 40-yard dash like everyone else. And when a combine is being held, a participant should always know every team is watching.

To sum it up, it is no accident that you ran into a ton of football and basketball players on campus. Really what I am trying to say is MSNBC and Chris Hanson could hold their season finale in the pit at lunchtime of a Carolina Orientation.

So next time you even think that it was a coincidence that you saw the big time star athlete on campus during your orientation, may you be slapped in the face by every bandwagon Heat fan in the United States of America, myself included.

Until next time,


Kanler Coker vs. Buddy Blackjack

Once again, I am sorry that I have not posted recently. I am sure by now you are starting to get fed up with my infrequent posts, and even more tired of the apologies I accompany them with. Yet, you are back again to check out the latest Crib Calls, and for that I thank you. I really do not even know what happened. One minute I was shopping for new salts for my bathtub, and then before I knew it two weeks had passed.

Today I bring you a documentary of the downfall of Buddy Blackjack’s latest challenger—Freshman Quarterback Kanler Coker. Kanler just enrolled at UNC this summer, and as you will see, he still has a lot to learn. Due to his inexperience, I have felt personally obligated to take him under my wing and show him how things are done here in Chapel Hill.

Lesson One:

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed my rendition of Friday Night Lights. (Buddy and I are Dallas Carter.) I am actually planning to post more frequently in the coming weeks so you should all stay tuned. I know everyone has already bookmarked this site, but I think it is now time for you to just go ahead and make it your homepage. Also, I have created an email address ( where you can contact me with your thoughts, queries, and concerns about Crib Calls. This is funny considering that I am really not even slightly interested with what your opinion is. But still, have at it. More importantly, anyone who has a question or topic they would like to see discussed should email that to me. I am planning on having guest commentary from only the MOST interesting personalities I know, and I will choose my guest poster based on what the posed question is.

Until next time,

Caleb Pressley

Summer School

Well it is that time of the year again. The weather is hot. The pools are open. The ladies are working on their tans. The guys are watching the ladies working on their tans. It is summertime, and every American man, woman, and child knows what that means…

Summer school.

In the past two summers I have gone to more summer school than the guy who went streaking at senior picnic and the tikes at Barcroft Elementary School combined. Like most college football programs, North Carolina wants its players to attend summer school so that we can train as a team. So on May 15th I left Asheville and returned to Chapel Hill so that I could wreak havoc on the weight room and administer justice in the classroom.

When I arrived at my Chapel Hill residence I was greeted by a pleasant surprise. My roommate Connor Gonet gave me the good news that he had finally brought another into this world. I gave him a high five, butt slap, and the vow that anyone who was in his family was also in my family. Mi casa es su casa. Except with families. Connor blessed me with the opportunity to be the very first person outside of his father to meet his new baby—Terry Vip.

If first impressions are everything, then Connor’s new scooter sucks. But I like to think that they are not everything, and that Terry has a fighting chance in this cold world. I am not going to lie; I initially hated Terry because I hilariously thought he might offer competition to Buddy Blackjack for the fastest scooter at UNC. But after I came to my wits and realized that Terry had no shot of challenging Buddy’s throne, I realized that Connor’s new scooter really was a class act. I even introduced him to Buddy Blackjack himself. I could tell they really hit it off and I couldn’t help but foresee an extraordinary relationship forming in the future

Even with Buddy’s tutelage, it is doubtful that Terry will ever really be the “Future Champion.”

Buddy and Terry embrace each other in a warm hug.

With my first summer session already started off on a good foot, I was excited to see what my first week of class and workouts would bring. Summer workouts are challenging, but they are also invigorating because everyone is hungry to accomplish new goals. To do this, everyone has different ways they keep themselves motivated. Some like to scream and yell things that could easily be spoken, like my fellow Gun Club member Bryn Renner. Others like to notify the world about their relentless grind through daily tweets, like pretty much the whole defense. Yet, some like to take the approach of writing their goals down and putting them in a place they will see everyday so they are constantly reminded to keep pushing forward.

That, my friends, is a triple negative.

I am not exactly sure what J-Boyd is trying to say in this motivational quote. All I am sure of is that he is working hard to accomplish it. I am interested to see what he meant whenever he takes the field next year and shows America what he has worked for all summer.

Workouts are just part of the summer experience at Carolina. The other aspect of daily life is school. I am taking a general education requirement, English 102, for the first summer session. Following my own personal guide to academic success, I tried to start the semester off on a good foot. For our first assignment our professor wrote us a letter about herself and asked us to reply with a letter about ourselves by the next morning. Because networking and relationships are everything in life, I spilled my guts in my letter confessing everything that I am and that I stand for. Since I know that the “About the Author” tab is probably the weakest on this site, I have updated it with an exact copy of my letter to my professor. You can check it out here.

The coolest part about my English class is that Andrew Luck, former Stanford quarterback, sits across the room from me. It has been in the news recently that he is missing the beginning of Colts training camp to finish his degree. I suppose the media attention was too much for him in California, which caused him to transfer to UNC.

Finishing his degree before starting NFL career.

Obviously, this is an incredible opportunity for me to learn from an elite quarterback about how to carry myself in a classroom setting. Since the first day of class, I have blatantly ignored my professor and intently studied his every move. I think he can tell I am staring at him, but he probably just thinks I am checking out his sweet neck-beard.

You have to respect his neard game.

At one time I was convinced that Andrew had the best neck-beard in the country, but he lost my fanhood when he sold out and went to a full beard. There is nothing I hate worse than a sellout.

Biggest sellout since Ice Cub acting in “Are We There Yet.”

What many of you probably do not realize is I too can grow a menacing neck beard. At my optimal moment of growth during spring finals, I decided to take the always-awkward Photo Booth pic of myself in order to document my neard in history. In efforts to reduce awkwardness, I tried to show cleavage and do the duck face like a lot of my friends on Facebook. Unfortunately, I couldn’t use those pics because they took away the emphasis on my neck-beard.

Ladies love the neck beard.


Anyways, before I knew it the week had come and passed and it was the weekend. After a hard week, I rewarded myself with a trip to Charlotte to check out Drake’s Club Paradise Tour to watch the likes of Drake, Waka Flocka, 2 Chains, and J Cole perform live.

I couldn’t decide what shirt I wanted at the concert, so I just got the ear plugs.

My friends and I really let loose at the concert, busting out dance moves and just raising cane in general. You can check out some of our riotous antics below. Luckily we didn’t get kicked out before J Cole took the stage. Criiib!!

Overall, my first week back to college was solid enough to get me looking forward to the rest of the summer. However, to me, a week is not a successful one if you don’t learn something. So to both of you readers who have made it all the way to the end of this post without clicking back over to Twitter, I will leave you with some wise words that I picked up this past week. “It you put it up, put it back down.”


Until next time,


Sorry 4 The Wait

I know what your thinking. Caleb, you cannot start arguably the best website of all time one week, only to follow the next week by not updating it at all. To all of you holding onto this sentiment, you are obviously wrong. I just did it.

Okay listen, I have been busy. Not to mention this website crashed from the profuse numbers of views it received upon my first two posts. Maybe in twenty years a server will be able to handle the 250 hits this site received over the past two weeks; but for now modern technology cannot keep up with your constant badgering. So if you were mad at me, don’t be. If anything, you should be mad at yourself.

The main reason I have not posted is because I have been enjoying the ONE WEEK break the University of North Carolina Football program graciously awarded us. That is a whole lot of summer to fit into seven days. So I have been pretty busy. When I say busy I mean WAY too lazy to do anything remotely challenging (Yes, this includes finding the remote). But don’t you worry. I have engaged in some pretty incredible activities this week that you all would probably be moderately interested in hearing about. Unfortunately, I cannot go into all of them right now. But here is a teaser:

-Right now I am going strong with four nights in a row sleeping in the same bed as Appalachian State safety, Patrick Blalock. As impressive as this is, there is a strong possibility I can improve this number tonight. Fingers crossed.

Patti B, himself

-I have kicked it with old friend and Alabama defensive lineman Jeoffrey Pagan. Jeoffrey went to middle school and high school with me before he transferred to a rival school his junior year. He actually played wide receiver the whole time I was with him. I even threw him a pass his junior year when he played at the other school, he was just on defense. It was actually one of only ones he ever caught. In our time together this week we did the only obvious thing to do: watch our middle school game film. Below you can check our 8th grade selves out connecting on a pass, and then doing a little impromptu razzle-dazzle for the all ladies in attendance.

-I have also plotted and schemed a way to steal Jeoffrey’s two national championship rings and sell them to a local pawnshop. I figure I can get at least enough money to fill Buddy Blackjack up when I return to Chapel Hill.

Sellin these babies.

– I also went to my old middle school’s spring musical, Willy Wonka. I used the production as an excuse to return to my old stomping grounds and remind everyone that I am still the sheriff in town (If “the sheriff in town” means “the coolest middle schooler ever,” that is.) I proved this by wearing a backwards hat, sitting in the back like I didn’t care, booing the main character, and rolling the windows down and playing explicit rap music at maximum volume while exiting the campus. It is safe to say everyone got the reminder loud and clear.

-Another great thing that happened over this break was my mom stopped caring about me. What I meant to say was for the first time in my young life, my mom did not make me text her at every point of my night while I was out. This may seem insignificant to you, but believe me that’s a big step. In the right direction, might I add.

Anyways, a ton of other super cool stuff happened to me this break that I would love to tell you about but honestly never will. I apologize for this past week of inactivity, I truly am sorry 4 the wait. I can only hope to live up to the precedent set by Wayne and excite you with my return only to thoroughly disappoint you with my next post. In the meantime, be blessed and stay safe. Boosie is free ya know.

Sorry 4 the Wait



Caleb Pressley


A Thirsty Draft Weekend

It is draft weekend in the NFL; and among the fans, friends, and families that are excited to be a part of the draft magic, there is one college coed in particular who is more captivated by this surreal moment than anyone else. She is so entranced because she knows the player that was just announced. Not like knows-of-him. She knows him. He borrowed a sheet of white loose-leaf paper from her in her entry-level mathematics class a few years back. Sure, he was the junior who didn’t wear a book bag amidst a class of eager freshman, but it didn’t matter. She was still there for him when it counted. When it was time to work on the linear equations practice set and the professor asked him if he even had any paper out, she was there. His paper might not have been; but she was. Since that day, they had casually acknowledged each other in passing. Sometimes she felt recognized, other times not as much. But she knew that he remembered. He had to of. And today she watched as Roger Goodell himself called his name. And she knows this guy. I mean they are practically dating, and via live Internet stream, she witnessed his transformation over into a life of lavish luxury—where comfort is routine and extravagance is expected. She can’t help but dream of being the woman at his side when he buys the bar at the Las Vegas nightclub, and the woman collecting the ones when he makes it rain later that night. Okay so maybe not so much the second one. But it doesn’t even matter; the limitless credit on her black card would be enough to buy more Prada than even the devil himself. Her life would be perfect. Her and her man. She wakes up from her daydream to see the draft has continued as a has-been NFL star makes the guest announcement of his former team’s pick. She just shakes her head.

This experience is shared by girls across the country who become temporarily transfixed by the magic of draft weekend. In the football world, we call this “the thirst.” And believe me when I say the thirst is real. Well as the third-string quarterback, I technically cannot tell you from firsthand experience; but I have an ample amount of secondhand experience. I have heard plenty of stories from the stars on our team, who I live through vicariously. So you can almost really trust me when I say its real. Luckily for all you girls out there, this post is actually my effort to help you quench your thirst. And just like Sprite, I will use that as my slogan to keep you interested; but similar to the saliva-thickening glucose in Sprite’s sugar, I will ultimately just make you thirstier than you originally were. These are my thoughts on the guys from UNC that were drafted.


Coples is a great guy. I am not going to act like I know him extremely well, because I don’t. (You would think otherwise judging by how close we look in the picture below.) But here are some things that I do know.

-He is very big

-His brands are very big

-He is very athletic

-He is very big

-I am glad he left because now I am the strongest guy in the program

Congratulations to Coples for representing the Tar Heels well as a first round selection. He went to the Jets, which is also now home to my favorite athlete of all time—Timothy Tebow. However, that is another topic for another day.

I am in this picture. I promise.


Zach went in the second round to the Tennessee Titans. I am confident that ESPN bashed him harder than any player in the draft when he got picked. Former teammate and current life coach Nelson Hurst put it best in his tweet, “Don’t understand why these announcers bash cope and zb. They’re like 2 of the best players ever. They told me so!” Obviously, Mel Kiper Jr. doesn’t know what he is talking about. For someone so overly concerned with physical attributes, I am surprised he did not predict Zach to go in the first-round because this dude is an athletic specimen. The knock on him is that he still has some work to do as far as honing his skill set. I did my best to help him out this past season. As the scout team quarterback, I tried to throw him at least two interceptions per practice. The coaches probably just thought I sucked, but I was just trying to help my man succeed. Big team. Little Caleb.

I will leave you with a video. I realize that everyone has different learning styles, and some people are just not readers. If this is the case for you, I have absolutely no idea why you are on a blog site. Nonetheless, I deeply appreciate your patronage and have linked a video so you can see the torments girls were going through this weekend.

Until next time,

Caleb Pressley

An Introduction

You obviously have a lot of questions. First and foremost being the old chicken and an egg. Unfortunately, I cannot help you with that. However, I can help you with your other, more pertinent queries that involve myself and this website.

My name is Caleb Pressley and the most important thing you can know about me is that I live life by my own rules. When I say my own rules I mean the rules of the University of North Carolina’s football team and honor court.  I should probably also mention the United States Constitution, and university housing. Apart from the time that I am adhering to these policies, you could say that I am incorrigible.

As I previously mentioned, I play football for UNC. This site will undoubtedly be a place where fans of North Carolina football will come to gain an insider’s perspective of the program, and to find out what goes on in the confines of Kenan Stadium on a daily basis. I can pinky promise you that I will use these aspirations to my advantage, and dupe all of you into actually just reading more about my personal life than any person could ever possibly want to.

You are probably still wondering why this site is called “Crib Calls.” What could it possibly mean? Is it just another slang phrase for explicit behavior? Does it involve babies? The punt returner for the Browns? MTV? Telephones? Well, let me explain. A crib call is when someone claims someone or something through the use of the expression “crib.” Moreover, it is when someone claims that someone else hails from the same region as they do. For example, being from Asheville, North Carolina, I can (and do) call crib on every person and thing from my hometown. To elaborate, anytime someone says “Roy Williams,” I declare “crib.” (For those of you who do not know, Roy attended high school at T.C. Roberson in Asheville and went on to coach at Owen—another school in the area. Although I certainly would never call crib on either T.C. Roberson or Owen, as they were both my archrivals that I fervently defeated in every sport for four years, I call crib on Roy because his main associations are more with the Asheville area than they are with the high schools. Something you will also learn quickly is the more famous a person is, the broader your requirements for crib become.) Even though these are some of the basic fundamentals of a crib call, I am sure this all still seems very confusing. Luckily for you, it will begin to make better and better sense the more often you frequent this page.

You are also lucky because although my posts may sometimes include crib calls, they will never be strictly about them. This site will actually serve more as an outlet for my deep emotions, and even deeper thoughts. One might even say that a persistent reader will be “rolling in the deep.” Haha… get it….      No?      Awkward…        maybe if you owned a Dell. “Dude, it’s a Dell.” Now that I have proven to you that I am knee-slappingly hilarious I do not believe I need to offer any more reason for you to bookmark this page. But for all of you who do not enjoy laughing so hard that you throw up, I plan to also post insightful and thought provoking questions of human life. I am also sure that as time goes on I will come up with other ideas that make this site more overwhelmingly astounding; but until then, act like you are satisfied with what I have.

While this webpage is still at an infant stage, I suggest that instead of just rereading this one post over and over, you should check out the photo album of my right hand man and best non-human friend, Buddy Blackjack. He will definitely come up in conversation the more I post, and the earlier you get to know him the better off you will be.

Until next time,

Caleb Pressley