Swinney wasn't embarrassed about having his mom share his small room in Unit 81 of the Fontainebleau Apartments in Tuscaloosa, surrounded by all the other college kids and the general behavior such a place fosters. Instead, he invited everyone over when she'd make a big pot of chicken and dumplings or chili.
This was his fate. This was his family. He wasn't hiding it. He was using it to push toward the promise of a better day he knew was coming because, well, because Dabo Swinney, instilled with toughness from his mom, full of the lessons of failure from his dad, wasn't going to allow it to be any other way.
Not then. Not now.
Which is why, in all of the outrageous moments, all the against-the-odds moves and all of the audacious dreams of Dabo Swinney and his mother's collective lives, his latest dream really isn't much.
"I want to win the national championship here at Clemson."