That's the dream, along with a few others, he will pursue when he announces in a few days where he'll pick up his collegiate career after an LDS Church mission to Canada, a returned missionary's privilege under NCAA rules. On Monday, he told The Tribune that BYU was "out of the picture."

In the wake of that disclosure, some Cougar fans have reacted as though Olson, considered a phenomenal prospect by college recruiters and coaches, is their own version of Benedict Arnold. They see him as a man who dishonorably turned his back on BYU.

What a peevish crock.

If anything, by way of ineptitude, BYU turned its back on him.

Olson committed to the Cougars as a senior at Thousand Oaks (Calif.) High School, where he was the top prep quarterback recruit in the nation. He came to Provo before the fall of 2002, worked hard, kept quiet, and hoped for a chance to play, mostly on account of the fact that he knew - but kept it to himself - he was the most talented passer in the program. While then-coach Gary Crowton fumbled and flip-flopped around with his quarterback rotation, benching starter Bret Engemann, then turning to an assortment of backups, Olson ran the scout team.

Thing is, he not only was better than the opposing quarterback he was impersonating, he was better than whoever BYU was starting, too. It was plain to anybody who watched.

Crowton later explained that the reason he didn't play Olson, despite telling him that he would play, is because the rest of the offensive players around him weren't "good enough." Instead, the coach redshirted him, and, thereafter, Olson left on his mission.

During that span, for too many reasons to list here, BYU football went in the tank, losing more than winning. The Cougars were particularly inept on offense, and came nowhere close to resembling what Crowton said they would be when Olson was recruited.

When the 6-foot-5, 235-pound quarterback/missionary with a howitzer hanging from his left shoulder returned home, he said: "BYU is an unstable place right now - I'll wait to see what happens there before I decide. I have to feel like BYU is heading in the right direction. I'd love to come back, but I have to feel that there's something good happening. That's what I want to feel."

Monday, he said that feeling never came to him:

"I was hoping deep down inside that something would work out for me there, but no, I'm not going back. I loved Provo. I loved BYU as a whole. I couldn't have been happier with it, outside of football. I'd recommend for other people to look at it and to go there. BYU's just not the place for me."

It would take a psychologist to figure out why some fans - zealots? - react in the aggressive manner they do toward an athlete who, after walking away from the game he loves, where his vast and bright future lies, taking two years to voluntarily serve his church as a missionary, would return to such a scornful reception by fans of that church's school because he decided the football situation there is no longer best-suited for him.

Maybe it's because he represents everything BYU longs for - great on the field, good in the classroom, good with the school's honor code. There's a thin line, after all, between love and hate.

Some of those same fervent people question his honor, despite the altruistic church service, because he is, by NCAA rules, not compelled to stay where he originally committed, where he thought he wanted to be, three years ago.

Athletic scholarships, on the other hand, are annual deals that may or may not be renewed each year by coaches, generally empowering the schools rather than the athletes, enabling them to run off players who they deem unworthy. In this case, the student-athlete had the power and exercised it, according to what he perceived to be in the best interests of his career path, which Olson hopes leads to top-drawer college success and, eventually, the NFL.

If Olson thinks going to Cal, UCLA, or Arizona State will better his chances for success in the long term, why not pursue that course? Why else go to any particular college? Where's the dishonor in that? It's the way the NCAA rules are written. Players who go on two-year missions become recruitable athletes, with options to do as they see fit.

That change of direction is a thousand miles away from, say, a disingenuous college coach who states he will stay at a school, then, a month later, bolts for a higher-profile, higher-paying position somewhere else.

"I've tried to handle this the best I know how," Olson says. "People will interpret things the way they want. But I know what I'm doing. You make your decisions and you do what you feel is right. That's all that matters.

"I'm happy I can go on and be successful and be a good missionary for the [LDS] church. Maybe that's what I'm supposed to do. I'm looking for a place where I can do my best. I'm looking for a place going in the right direction, where I can have great memories."

It's up to BYU fans and zealots alike, then, to let it be, to let Ben be, to honorably let Olson take his life and his future and his howitzer for an arm wherever he wants them to go.