Signing Day has to be right up there with the Friday after Thanksgiving in terms of productivity. Observe adults – who should have things to do – spending an entire day holding their collective breath awaiting announcements by some 18 year old boys. To think that we fall for that dopey routine where each kid sits there at the table, three caps in front of him, and wait in suspense while he moves his hand over the caps, then abruptly picks one – suprise! – to place on his 18 year old head.
He’s going to Old U! And his momma is sitting there supposedly as shocked and relieved as everyone else. (Maybe that’s what gets me – mom, you’d better not be learning his final choice like this. You haven’t nipped his back talkand washed that uniform all these years just to get punked on national TV.)
I realize this is serious stuff, that this kid is going to determine the enjoyment level of many a tailgate and weekend to come. I realize there are championships and licensing royalties and future man-cave wall posters that hinge upon these commitments. And yet I resent being toyed with. Don’t you?
It’s got to be fine moment for these families. Scholarships! ESPN! Hospitality tents! Of course they should be excited and the kid should have his moment. But I would much more respect the kid who saves his showmanship for the field instead of the “will I or won’t I sign” routine that feels like he is threatening to open a garden hose on our expectations. Could the producers be egging this on like they do for all the other reality dramas?
All the fuss seems indignified. Why are we waiting on stand-by to see what a kid decides to do with his future (and by future, let’s be clear that we only mean the next four years absent any academic probation, drug busts or curfew violations)? Signing day is just “The Bachelor” for college football fans, with a cap instead of a rose.
Thought: How many guys can quote the stats of a prospective recruit but don’t know their own kids’ GPA?