Devin C. Butler had never met Devin M. Butler, the graduate transfer from Notre Dame, before the latter arrived in Syracuse this past January. But C. Butler knew M. Butler’s face, because Google had familiarized him with it.

“Every time I looked me up,” C. Butler, a sophomore wide receiver, said, “I see him.”

M. Butler, a cornerback, shared the struggle. During his senior year at Gonzaga (Washington, D.C.) High School, whenever M. Butler went to check his status on local recruiting websites, a Frederick Douglass (Maryland) High School freshman quarterback who won 12 games and threw for 1,100 yards appeared. It was C. Butler. But, at that time, there was no need for the middle initial. They were just two kids on opposite ends of successful high school careers.

“I’d be like, ‘Alright, Lil’ Devin out there doing his thing, man,’” M. Butler said. “I was always a fan of him. I had no choice but to keep up with him because whenever I looked up myself, I saw his news too.”

Last season, C. Butler’s only two catches of his freshman year came against Notre Dame. M. Butler’s then-Irish teammates teased him as if he was the one causing problems for their defense. Even now, a Google search of “Devin Butler” provides each player’s SU roster profile as the first two results, but only photos of M. Butler appear.

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Now the Butlers are teammates, and Syracuse (4-4, 2-2 Atlantic Coast) is tasked with handling two players with the same name. Head coach Dino Babers, when asked how he differentiates addressing the two, cackled and admitted his method is a little embarrassing. One is “Devin Butler offense,” the other is “Devin Butler defense.” Other players shout “Devin!” to get both to instinctively respond. The situation has caused the Butlers to form a bond based in their name, but it’s bolstered by their Mid-Atlantic roots.

Just nine players on SU’s roster hail from either D.C., Maryland or Virginia — the DMV — so C. Butler didn’t have a lot of teammates to relate to his freshman year. At times, he felt “kind of alone.” When M. Butler arrived, they hit it off upon introduction thanks to the proximity of their hometowns. M. Butler hails from D.C. and C. Butler is from District Heights, Maryland, an eastern suburb of the nation’s capital.

“You go through the same types of hurdles that not everybody else has to go through in life to get to where we’re at,” M. Butler said. “It’s something that, as a shared experience, helps us to grow and to know that when I look at him, I see somebody who’s been down some of the roads I’ve been down.”

As someone almost three years his senior, M. Butler has become an “older brother” to C. Butler, the sophomore said. C. Butler has gone to M. Butler seeking advice for matters both personal and football related.

“He understands me,” C. Butler said. “I could talk to him about anything.”

Those conversations don’t have to be serious, though. The two discuss what they miss most while away from the DMV, like mumbo sauce, a must-have takeout condiment. M. Butler called it a combination of sweet and sour sauce, barbecue sauce and hot sauce. The concoction, C. Butler said, will put a smile on the face of anyone from the DMV.

Then there’s go-go music, a funk subgenre born in ‘70s-D.C. that thrived during the Butlers’ high school years. It was on the warm-up CD for M. Butler’s team at Gonzaga High. It blared through the basement of the Boy and Girls Club, his first exposure to the sound of go-go in a live setting, where the band shouted him out for a touchdown he scored earlier in the night.

“It’s not your ordinary boy band or rock band,” C. Butler said. “It’s just having fun. It’s a vibe.”

The two don’t spend as much time together now that Syracuse is the thick of its season. But on a mid-October Tuesday evening in the team’s facility, when C. Butler finished an interview with the media and M. Butler entered the room to begin another, they exchanged pleasantries.

“Sup, Lil Dev,” C. Butler jeered, referring to the title of “Big Dev” the two both claim. M. Butler says it should be his because of seniority, while C. Butler takes ownership because he is a physically bigger person.

The jab made the new friends laugh and smile, as if they had known each other forever. Because they had, kind of.

Published on November 1, 2017 at 12:31 am

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