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Sports & Fitness // Hot Air
Steve Murray

Celebrating A Heisman Holiday

Manti Te’o and Johnny Manziel pose with college football’s upperclassman offensive player of the year award, er, the Heisman Trophy. AP photo

Dec. 7, 2012. Heisman Eve:

‘Twas the night before Heisman, and all through the land

No writer failed to comment, no blogger took a stand

The finalists were prompted, polished and ready

Trying to look excited during award shows so plenty

The young men were pressed into suits best forgotten

As old men congratulate themselves, on a process so rotten

With Manti looking fearless and Collin composed

Johnny Football stands ready to be overexposed

The envelope is opened to a rise of much clatter

How could my guy not win, he’s the only one who mattered

Away to the microphones we make a quick dash

To find out how long scripted answers can last

The spotlight shines on well-rehearsed smiles

Giving luster to an event, that’s not worth the while

But what’s to become of our greatest star wonder?

A meaningless pro career, another Heisman blunder

With producers and directors so lively and quick

We’ll invent enough blather to make viewers sick

More rapid than eagles, the experts they came

So many, so popular, we know them by name

Now Kiper, now McShay, cue Clayton and Forde

Grab Woody, Wetzel and rip Lou Holtz’s cord

To the top of their lungs, they yell their reactions

Hoping the comments will build Twitter attractions

With a grit in their teeth and a look condescending

They point fingers and wonder, what games were you watching?

Johnny came lately, and Collin’s a fader

What about their future, is Manti a Raider?

The voters so frumpy, no old jolly elves

Voting on awards, most important to themselves

With a wink of an eye, and a turn of the head

It’s off to the next story, where with free food they’ll be fed

On the airwaves, in print, or wherever we roam

We’ll rate next year’s winner, as if the truth can be known

QBs and runners and catchers get ready

We’ll ignore all the rest, our history so steady

We somehow claim victory, and bathe in self-cheer

Bolstered by correct opinion, nachos and beer

But deep in our conscience, after the smoke and blather

The question not answered is why does it matter?

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