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Denison offensive lineman Ricky Kampmann ’28 lugs 50 pounds of “awkward” up a narrow stairwell in Crawford Hall.

“You pick them up by corners of the box, and just bear hug them all the way up the stairs to the rooms,” says Kampmann, his light gray Denison football T-shirt stained with sweat. “They aren’t that heavy, but they’re awkward.”

It is Move-In Day 2026 for first-year students and their parents, and Kampmann is navigating the organized chaos inside Crawford Hall with a 3.1 cubic-foot compact refrigerator cradled in his arms.

Surprises lurk around every corner on this toasty August morning. Fleet-footed teammates, carrying duffel bags of clothes and box fans, merge into heavy hallway traffic. Student volunteers skip down the steps, eating up precious space in the stairwell. Parents unexpectedly U-turn in hallways outside their son’s or daughter’s room.

Kampmann reacts to each sudden movement, deftly shifting the weight of the fridge to avoid collisions, tightening his grip on the box as he pivots his body and accelerates up another flight of steps.

“Atta way, Ricky,” a teammate yells out in encouragement.

As Kampmann reaches his destination on the second floor, he gently places the box outside the dorm room. Another successful delivery, another burden lifted from appreciative first-years and their parents, who have so much on their minds.

“We’re the big guys on the team,” Kampmann says. “And just like on the football field, our job is to carry the heavy load.”

Many hands make light work: Never is the old saying more relevant ���������� than Move-In Day for first-years. An army of student volunteers demonstrating military precision unload a parade of waiting cars, trucks, and SUVs outside the five residents halls on East Quad. In a matter of minutes, the contents of a vehicle that took hours to pack are carefully placed on tarps to be delivered to the dorm rooms.

The Big Red football players, working in two shifts, do the bulk of the heavy lifting. And no item offers a greater challenge or reward than the compact fridge, a dorm-room staple. It’s a back-breaking, shoulder-wrenching chore, and members of the football team take pleasure in the pain.

“Guys turn it into a competition,” says former offensive lineman Canyon Schneider ’26, recalling Move-In days of recent years. “They take great pride in seeing who can haul the most fridges, especially when they’ve got to go to the third floor. I can say without hesitation Chauncey Cox ’25 is one of the great mini-fridge lifters. He would just get after it.”

Unlike the weight room, there are no official records kept for compact fridge carries. Most agree at least one player each year gets into the high teens for deliveries.

Over the years, some stories have become legend.

Players talk of the time a few years ago when the entire contents of an SUV, including a fridge, were transported up three flights of steps only to discover the first-year student had made a mistake. He was in the wrong residence hall.

“Guys had to take all the stuff back down the steps, walk it outside and back up the steps in the hall next door,” offensive lineman Liam Adams ’27 says.

The annual service is offered only to first-year students, and the football team is only too happy to lend a hand after missing last year due to a scheduling conflict involving a scrimmage. The players remember the nervous excitement surrounding the first day of their college journey. (Because the football team arrives early to campus for training camp, first-year players must carry their own fridges — and everything else — to their rooms.)

“This is more grueling than a workout, which I enjoy, but it’s also more satisfying,” Kampmann says. “You’re getting a chance to help people.”

Schneider recalls fathers trying to tip him for his toil. Parents and first-years always thank the student volunteers for their efforts.

“I’m 5-foot-4, 140 pounds, and carrying that fridge up here would have been very hard,” Natalie Kukovich ’30 says. “These guys can do it without hurting themselves.”

Some fridges stretch the definition of “compact.” They can weigh more than 80 pounds and stand taller than three feet. Players sometimes double up to ease the ache.

Offensive lineman Tom Frye ’29 tackled a standard kitchen fridge solo.

“I carried one today that was the length of my torso, maybe longer,” Frye says. “That should count for more than one.”

The football players are assigned different residence halls, and Kampmann lucks out, having lived in Crawford. He knows the floor plan and which rooms are located in which hallways, reducing confusion and the chance of delivering fridges to the wrong wing of the building.

He’s excited when learning a fridge needs delivery to Crawford 316, his old room. After carrying it up three flights of steps, he reads the names “Sam” and “Bruce” on the closed door.

Kampmann sets down the fridge, wipes his brow, and smiles.

“Sam and Bruce,” he says. “You’re inheriting a good one.”