From Mozart at UNC to dancing in the weight room, Gio Lopez is rediscovering himself

Now, just 80 miles away from UNC after transferring to Wake Forest, Gio is a world apart from the ghosts of last season. He's making considerably less than he did a year ago, but he's dancing in the weight room, juking his way past defenders on the practice field and beaming in front of cameras. He's where he's supposed to be.

"Back at the other school, it felt like there's no air," he said. "Here, it's fun again. They're moving us in the right direction, energized, and guys are enjoying football. It's like fresh air."

JAKE DICKERT'S MOTTO for his program at Wake is "Built in the Dark," ostensibly a nod to all the work that happens before game day to create a winner. But it's fitting, too, because even during good years -- like last season's nine-win campaign -- Wake tends to orbit outside the spotlight.

It's exactly what Gio needed.

North Carolina's 2025 season had gone off the rails almost instantly. That opening drive touchdown was followed by a TCU onslaught. Gio, who had been in a car crash just days before kickoff, finished just 4-of-10 passing and, at one point, went nearly two hours of real time without completing a pass. He was banged up at the end of the game, got hurt again against UCF and then missed the Clemson game entirely.

When the dust settled, UNC had lost its first five games against Power 4 competition, and a media frenzy surrounding Belichick's personal life and professional failures engulfed the program. Tar Heels fans who had been promised a renaissance under their renowned new head coach wanted answers, and amid a near vacuum of accountability from the coaching staff, Gio became a focal point for their ire.

"I'd never had to respond to tough situations like that on that loud of a scale," Gio said.

Barney said "pressure was an understatement" and that his son routinely received angry messages on social media from fans eager to blame Gio for the team's struggles or other students on campus who had pushed him to salvage a lost season.

Still, Gio said the right things with the media and worked to rally his teammates.

"We know people over there, and everyone we talked to said, 'Man, Gio's awesome. Gio handled everything great,'" Dickert said of Gio's recruitment. "Gio always had a positive attitude walking into the building with energy."

But Barney knew how bad things had gotten. He could hear it in the tone of his son's voice.

"The situation there -- I'm not a Super Bowl champion, so I don't know, but I don't think it was handled in the best way for college football, for students and players," Barney said. "It set my son backwards."

For Gio, football was supposed to be fun. He played the game with a palpable joy that pervaded every aspect of his experience at South Alabama. At Carolina, things were different.

"It was more like work," Gio said. "After that first game, it felt like getting through the day. You don't want to live like that, where you're up at night thinking about the next day."

Gio gushed over the atmosphere upon arrival at Wake Forest in January, where players danced and joked and pushed each other through tough winter workouts. At UNC, the vibe in the weight room could be akin to the waiting room at the dentist's office.

"Even down to the music selection those guys had," Barney said. "I'm a fan of Mozart, too, but not when I'm on the football field. That's not going to hype me up."

At South Alabama, Gio was lauded as an improvisational playmaker -- a supposed perk for a Carolina offense still under construction. On the day Gio was officially named the starter, receiver Jordan Shipp said the team had given Gio a nickname befitting his playmaking style: Magic Johnson.

But once the games began, the story was entirely different. The Tar Heels wanted to play a pro-style offense, and Gio was told he couldn't audible at the line of scrimmage and was instructed to avoid scrambling from the pocket when a play broke down.

"You were ridiculed if you didn't do it exactly the way he was told," Barney said. "You could be at the dang line, see the play is about to be blown up, but if you try to call it off or audible, you were ridiculed."

After the season, the Tar Heels fired offensive coordinator Freddie Kitchens, bringing in longtime college playcaller Bobby Petrino to lead the offense. For his part, Gio raved about his relationship with QB coach Matthew Lombardi, whom he said he considers a close friend, and said he appreciated the opportunity to play for Belichick.

At Wake, Gio reconnected with his old offensive coordinator from South Alabama, Rob Ezell, who now holds the same position with the Deacons. The constraints of UNC's pro-style scheme are a distant memory, and on the practice field, Ezell sees regular glimpses of the player he had recruited out of high school.

"You've got to let him play," Ezell said. "That's one of the things I learned when we were all at South [Alabama]. You have to let him be him. And when he does that, he gives life and energy to the whole team."

Watch him on the practice field at Wake Forest, and it's as if a weight has been removed from around his neck. That familiar sense of excitement and passion that had always been his hallmark is back. He is a new man -- or, rather, his old self.

"Gio has always loved the game of football, and he was losing the love for it when he was over there [at UNC]," Barney said. "Being at Wake Forest and with Coach Ezell, the type of coaches he's used to who have the excitement he likes, it's been game-changing for him."

GIO IS QUICK to say he's no "diva," but at Wake, they get him. His smile is genuine, and even the bad days at practice come with a pat on the back and just the right words from a coach who has known him since he was a kid.

"Sometimes when you're with a staff, they don't know how to communicate with you," Gio said. "I know what Coach Ezell wants, and he knows what I need to hear, too."

The irony of Gio's journey is that losing the joy of the game in Chapel Hill was exactly what he needed to realize what really matters to him.

Gio isn't eager to be the archetype for portal blunders in this not-quite-professional era, but if his journey represents a cautionary tale, that's OK. He just hopes the story of hard lessons learned also turns out to be a tale of redemption.

"It's about more than money," Gio said. "You've got to see the plan. You have to follow how you really feel. Do you feel like you really should be there or are you going for one reason? If you feel like it's all about external gains, maybe you shouldn't be there."

Gio doesn't think back on that first phone call with Belichick much anymore, doesn't try to make sense of a moment when all his dreams appeared within his grasp only to be revealed as a mirage months later. He's just happy to be somewhere he belongs, a little wiser for the effort.

Dickert raved about Gio's impact this spring, calling his timing, anticipation and instincts "elite," suggesting Gio's ability to maneuver a collapsing pocket was "as good as I've seen." And yet, the thing he said he likes most about his new QB is the chip on his shoulder. Gio, he said, isn't out to prove North Carolina, the media or the legions of critics who lambasted him a year ago wrong. He wants, Dickert said, to prove himself right.

"The second time in the portal, I felt like I just wanted to play football and enjoy myself," Gio said. "If you're having fun playing football, you won't question your decision."