From Culver's, with love: Meet Gennings Dunker, the NFL draft's viral star

IOWA CITY, Iowa -- Gennings Dunker folded his 6-foot-5, 319-pound frame into a booth at Culver's, overlooking a Midwestern feast fit for a mulleted king. At the center, of course, were cheese curds. A family-sized order, all to himself.

Dunker had visited this Culver's before, usually after Iowa home games, played about a mile away at Kinnick Stadium. The Hawkeyes' starting right tackle would seek a casual, familiar place to dine with his parents and brothers. For the Dunkers, who went to Culver's after church back home, no other spot provided better comfort food.

"It's awesome to come here, because you didn't have to make reservations," Gennings said.

Back then, just months ago, Dunker could go largely unnoticed at Culver's. Not anymore. He had barely sat down last week when a group of kids asked to take a picture with him. Others wished him luck as they passed by.

A man wearing a Chicago Cubs hat and hoodie approached.

"I don't know you, but I love your memes on the internet," he said. "F---ing great!"

The memes have changed everything for Dunker. He's a projected Day 2 NFL draft pick -- ESPN's Mel Kiper Jr. lists him as the No. 7 tackle. Few prospects, however, have flooded social media more during the draft lead-up, especially at the combine in Indianapolis, where the football world was introduced to the giant man from a small Illinois town, with a flowing red mullet, a thick mustache and the personality to match.

Jason and Travis Kelce were so smitten with Dunker during their podcast that when Jason likened Dunker's predraft display to a Westminster Kennel Club-like "best in show" for offensive linemen, Travis fell out of his chair. A widely circulated meme featured Dunker's 40-yard dash at the combine in slo-mo -- mullet bouncing with every stride, Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Free Bird" playing and the accompanying caption: "Peak Male Performance." Esquire posted that Dunker won the combine "on looks alone."

Dunker left Indy as a full-blown celebrity.

"When I was going through [Chicago's] O'Hare Airport after the combine, people would come up to me," Dunker said. "I was like: What is going on?"

One of Dunker's viral predraft moments involved Culver's. While reviewing his massive food intake with the NFL Network crew at the Senior Bowl, Dunker noted that he included Culver's with his dietician's list.

"What's Culver's?" asked NFL Network insider Mike Garafolo.

"You've never been to Culver's?" an incredulous Dunker replied, while Garafolo's colleague Tom Pelissero explained that he's not from the Midwest.

"That's a crime. Are you serious?" Dunker continued. "That ain't right. You've got to check it out."

Culver's is part of Dunker's journey, but there's more to him than curds and a distinctive coiffure. Beneath the mullet is an ever-curious mind that consumes the finer points of football and life beyond the field. Dunker is an avid reader and outdoorsman, the type who appreciates a sunset over Storm Lake in Iowa and a good fishing spot just as much as writing chemistry equations in his basement.

He's also fiercely team-oriented, part of an Iowa offensive line that won the 2025 Joe Moore Award as the nation's best. He's the first to say, "We play five as one," and showed up to an ESPN photo shoot wearing a T-shirt displaying the face of linemate Lucas Allgeyer.

But the predraft period has revealed something else: Gennings Michael Dunker is one of one.

"Football's played in helmets, it's played in pads, but the story of Gennings Dunker has certainly benefited with the helmet being off," said Iowa assistant defensive coordinator Seth Wallace, who discovered Dunker in tiny Lena, Illinois. "The things without his helmet on have given him an opportunity to present himself to the public, to NFL executives, general managers, coaches.

"They're all finding out: This kid's a hell of a football player, but gosh, he has an infectious personality."

LET'S BEGIN WITH the mullet and the mustache, because each has a story of its own. The mustache, like Dunker's football skills, needed nourishment.

"I had it when I was like 16, and it did not look good," he explained. "I couldn't even really grow hair till I was 20. Like, I didn't have chest hair, barely had armpit hair."

Dunker would not shave, no matter how silly he looked, and eventually, the stache filled in. The mullet, meanwhile, was a "case study," borrowed from fellow Iowa offensive lineman Connor Colby, now with the San Francisco 49ers.

Colby grew his own mullet at Iowa in 2021, earning freshman All-America honors as a starting guard. He then cut it during the middle part of his Hawkeyes career, and his performance -- and the line's -- began to slip. Colby brought back the mullet in 2024, this time with Dunker growing one too. They helped revive Iowa's line performance that fall, and Colby earned first-team All-Big Ten honors before becoming a seventh-round draft pick of the 49ers. Might as well keep it, Dunker thought to himself.

The cut has gone over relatively well in his family, although his mother, Michelle, from whom Gennings gets his ginger locks, isn't a huge mullet fan.

"She always wanted a daughter, so she could have seen what the daughter would have looked like," Gennings said.

Tattoos of biblical figures line Dunker's shoulders and chest: Samson, King David and Moses. His favorite is Moses and the Burning Bush, displayed on his left bicep.

"It's kind of like, God's calling for your life, go out for adventure," he said. "It's how you find purpose in life. Football's kind of an adventure. Doing anything really hard is kind of an adventure. That's why I like it."

Dunker's football adventure is a familiar one at Iowa: small-town kid who needed time to develop and emerged as a draftable prospect. He came in raw after losing his final high school season to COVID-19 then missed his freshman year at Iowa after foot surgery.

The other linemen in his class had, in his view, more athleticism, talent and polish.

"It was a big jump," he said.

In 2022, Dunker had 11 appearances and earned his first start in Iowa's bowl win. He became a full-time starter in 2023, earning honorable mention all-league honors, but Iowa's offense remained in a historic hole.

"He was going to be part of the solution," Iowa coach Kirk Ferentz said.

Dunker didn't truly feel comfortable until his fourth year. He remained the starting right tackle, was a second-team All-Big Ten selection and helped block for a top-25 rushing offense. His expectations had already been far exceeded, especially as a lifelong Iowa fan who had idolized Ferentz.

The possibility of an NFL career still wasn't real to Dunker, until his end-of-season meeting with offensive line coach George Barnett, who informed him he could play in the pros.

"Everyone in this football facility knew it before Dunker knew it, which is the cool thing," offensive tackle Trevor Lauck said. "We all saw it in him. Just his stature alone, how big he is, how much he lifts, he's quick, he cares a lot, obviously. He wouldn't doubt himself, but he'd say, 'Yeah, I don't know.' And then we'd watch his film and we're like, 'Bro, what are you talking about? You keep this up, you're going to be great.'"

Last year, Dunker and Lauck bookended a line where all five starters earned All-Big Ten honors, including Dunker, a first-team selection by the media. Ferentz, who cut his teeth coaching O-line, expects Dunker to start his pro career at guard with the potential to also play tackle.

"He wants to block the guy he's supposed to block," Ferentz said. "As stupid as that sounds, as simple as that sounds, it's a big part of being a good player. He's always trying to do his job really well. He's got all the attributes it takes to be successful."

Many of those traits were shaped back home in Lena.

BEFORE THE MULLET came the mop top. Dunker wore it around Lena, his hometown of around 2,700, tucked in Illinois' northeast corner, near the Iowa and Wisconsin borders.

"He had this huge mop of red hair, like the Justin Bieber haircut," said Gannon, his youngest brother.

"You just had to evolve from that," added Dunker's other brother, Gage.

Gennings, Gage and Gannon all were born in Des Moines, Iowa, but moved to Lena when Gennings was 8. Michelle, a physical therapist, had landed a job with a local hospital network. Their father, Mike, worked for Nationwide, which wanted someone in the area to sell farm insurance.

Mike and Michelle both had grown up in Iowa, not far from Iowa City -- Mike in Wilton, Michelle in Muscatine -- and liked the idea of raising their young family in a small town.

Gennings spent much of his childhood outside, riding his bike with friends, playing all the sports and making forts in his backyard. Other than some Halo 4, screen time was limited.

"It sounds like 'Leave it to Beaver,' but that's what it was," Mike said.

Sports were central to life in Lena, especially football. The Dunker boys spent Friday nights in the fall watching -- and later playing -- games at Lena-Winslow High School, known as Le-Win, under coach Ric Arand, who is in the Illinois High School Football Coaches Association Hall of Fame.

"Everybody kind of lives and breathes for the football team," Gannon said. "Not like Odessa in 'Friday Night Lights,' but whenever I watch that movie, I get flashbacks."

Gennings took to sports, mainly because of his size, but also found other ways to compete. He thrived in the Accelerated Reading (AR) program in Lena schools, which awarded students points for books they finished.

One book equaled 12 or 13 points. Gennings, who loved Harry Potter and other fantasy series, piled up around 1,200.

"I don't know if anyone else wanted to read, but I was like, 'Screw it, let's see how many points I can get,'" he said. "I would try to read a book every day. I would be up late in my room, my parents thought I'm asleep and I'm just reading."

Dunker was known for his athletic prowess and intelligence, but he also hung out with a crowd who "loved a lot of fun," said Mark Kuehl, then the principal at Le-Win. For the senior prank on the last day of high school, Dunker corralled ducks from a friend's family farm and released them during first period.

One ended up at Kuehl's desk.

"I didn't know anything and I'm wandering around like I always did, and all of a sudden, here come these ducks down the hall," Kuehl said. "[Dunker] was around the corner. I didn't think for sure it was him, and he goes, 'Yeah, it was me.'"

Kuehl had several rules with senior pranks: Nothing broken or ruined, and no extra work for the custodians.

"They were s---ting all over the school," Gage said. "He just made Gennings clean up the s--- and he was fine."

Life in Lena wasn't all fun and games. Gennings also learned how to work, first baling hay for eight- or nine-hour shifts at local farms, then as a dishwasher and food runner at The Rafters, now Lena Brewing Company. Mike and the restaurant's owner, Ross Vehmeier, lifted weights together, and Mike would send all three of his sons to work there, starting with Gennings.

"I don't know if child labor laws are a real thing in small towns, which is awesome," Gennings said.

Vehmeier didn't hire staff under 16, which he assumed Gennings was after looking at the towering teen. Then, one night after a shift at The Rafters, Gennings stood outside with some of the staff, when Michelle drove by to pick him up.

"The chefs are giving him grief, like, 'Hey, what's the deal? Why aren't you driving? You don't have a license?'" Vehmeier said. "He goes, 'No, I'm only 14.' We got this 14-year-old kid working for us that looks like he's 20, got these big feet. I guess the rest is history."

Gennings loved everything about the job. On the first day of sophomore year at the high school, he took a picture holding a sign that listed "Rafters Cheeseburger" as his favorite food and "Lead Dishwasher" as what he wanted to be when he grew up.

Dunker already had the growing part covered. The cheeseburgers helped him get closer to the career he ended up pursuing.

"That's why he's so big," Gage said. "They would make him two meals in a six-hour shift, and he'd eat it all."

WALLACE HAS RECRUITED the Chicago suburbs for years. He usually takes Interstate 88 home -- a straight shot to Iowa City -- but at times he'll drive along U.S. Route 20, the nation's longest road, which cuts across the northern ridge of Illinois, through Lena.

"Much more scenic," Wallace said.

He had another reason, too. Arand had built Lena-Winslow into a heavyweight in Illinois' small-school division, winning seven Class 1A state titles since 2010, including four from 2017 to 2022.

His success intrigued Wallace, who tried to "get off the beaten path" in recruiting.

"It's not heavy-trafficked," Wallace said. "It's not one of the first 100 schools you're going to go to in the state of Illinois to find a prospect."

Iowa hadn't recruited Le-Win's players until defensive lineman Isaiah Bruce, a year ahead of Dunker, who committed to Iowa in November 2018. Wallace visited Bruce at the high school and brought along Hawkeyes coach Kirk Ferentz. While Ferentz met with Bruce, Wallace and Arand stood in the foyer outside the school cafeteria.

Dunker, who, according to Arand, "has got a question for everything," walked out of the cafeteria toward his coach, wearing bright red sneakers. He had come to Le-Win at only 190 pounds -- "A big, redheaded, kind of gawky kid," Arand said -- and was still adding mass: 30-40 pounds during his sophomore year, another 20-30 the following summer.

"Gennings wore 17-and-a-half, 18 [size] shoes, so they stuck out like a sore thumb, like Ronald McDonald shoes," Arand said. "Coach Wallace and I were standing there talking, and he looks down at his feet and looks up at Gennings."

Wallace extended his hand.

"My name is Seth Wallace. What's your name?

"Gennings Dunker."

Wallace thought to himself: Holy s---, this is a mountain of a man. He asked Dunker about his shoe size, as well as his height and weight.

Soon enough, Ferentz came over and met the gangly ginger with the giant red shoes.

"I almost peed my pants," Dunker said. "You grew up watching Kirk Ferentz, and now he's in my school. I was like, 'What the heck? This is wild.' I think I blacked out."

Dunker began attending Iowa's football camps. The coaches' interest in Dunker grew and grew.

After a camp, Ferentz brought Dunker, his parents and brothers to his office. He offered Gennings a scholarship. Gennings, who had been photographed wearing matching Hawkeyes shirts with his brothers in 2010, committed on the spot.

"It was a cool drive home," Gennings said. "I don't even know if I did that well at that camp. I'd never pass-set. I think I tried to run block on pass-set, but they probably liked that."

He became the first pledge of the Hawkeyes' 2021 recruiting class.

"I always tell people: We had to move to Illinois for our kid to become a Hawkeye," Mike said.

BEFORE WALLACE AND Ferentz came to Le-Win, Dunker wasn't even sure he'd go to college. He had a good GPA but "took a lot of shop classes."

But coming to Iowa accelerated Dunker's natural curiosity, especially during a chemistry course.

"I got an A-minus and I was kind of amazed, like, 'No way,'" he said. "I was like, 'Screw it, let's try to be pre-med.'"

He liked the competition of the pre-med track, and also helping people. A health and human physiology major, he spent two years working at a bone growth research lab at Iowa, and volunteered during the summers in the respiratory unit at the university's hospital.

Chemistry hooked him.

"I never thought I would like chemistry, like, organic chemistry," he said. "It kind of tickled me, I loved it. It's kind of a giant puzzle."

Dunker went to Home Depot and purchased 148 feet of whiteboard, placing it around the basement of his off-campus home. Offensive linemate Cael Winter joked it was "a serial killer's basement," but Dunker would invite over other students -- athletes and non-athletes -- to fill the boards with equations. Dunker has never seen "Good Will Hunting," but Wallace describes the lineman as "wicked smart."

Dunker was also the "glue guy" of Iowa's offensive line room, Lauck said, holding slackers accountable while also boosting teammates' confidence and always injecting some humor. He loved the line's Thursday dinners and their summer trip to the Ozarks. Like other Iowa players, Dunker participated in the hay bale toss at Beef Days every July in nearby Solon. Not surprisingly, the farmhand from Lena won titles in 2022 and 2023.

Whenever Dunker sees Lauck, he does a karate kick because he thinks his friend resembles Po from "Kung Fu Panda."

"He says I have big cheeks, like on my face," Lauck said. "I'm like, 'Thanks, I guess. I don't know how to respond.' It's pretty random. That has been running for close to two years now, and it always gets me going.

"There weren't really any bad days when he's in the room."

Since the combine, Dunker has been training in Iowa City, while attending Hawkeyes spring football practices. When the O-line has an odd number of players, Dunker pulls aside a young guy and works with him (despite his pre-med track, he's now thinking about coaching high school football when he's finished playing).

Dunker shows up to help the team he loves, but he quickly becomes the center of attention.

"We've got mothers, we've got sisters, we've got prospects that, if Gennings Dunker's in the building, they all want to meet him, and they all want to get their picture with him," Wallace said.

Dunker isn't fully comfortable with his fame. He has been waiting to be part of another team, to bond with linemates and a quarterback, to be one of five again. In about 10 days, he'll know where he's going.

Dunker will be back in Lena for draft weekend. Only one venue made sense to host his draft party, the old Rafters. Vehmeier has already ordered red mullets and plans to sell them, with proceeds going to the Lena sports program, an idea Gennings immediately approved.

"Every time you see his name listed in anything, it's going to say, 'Lena,' so it's big for our community, huge," Kuehl said. "He could be a great football player and a terrible person, and that's not him. Just a great guy."

As the draft nears, Dunker is doubling down on the values that shaped him, especially self-belief, which he didn't always have in football, but also curiosity and treating others well.

And if you can grow a mullet, let it flow.

"All football players are hidden by the helmet, but especially O-linemen," Lauck said. "So it was cool when he got to take the helmet off, people got to see him and his hair and his mustache and they're like, 'Oh, this guy's pretty interesting.'

"I'm glad it has worked out the way it has."