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Heisman hindsight
© St. Petersburg Times When it comes to the Heisman Trophy, we all seem to agree on one thing. We'd love to tell the Downtown Athletic Club where to stick it. Me? I'd stick it in Archie Manning's hands. No, not Eli. Archie. If nothing else, the college football season has proven this: No one deserves this year's Heisman. No one. There is no best college player in the country. There is only a 500-way tie for second. So why not use this year to right some old wrongs? In a year of the undeserving, let's go back and give a trophy to those who were undelivered? Archie, for instance. In 1970, when the world was young and the Heisman seemed to carry more weight, Archie Manning was a daring young pistol for Ole Miss. Even now, I can remember the way he would roam the football field, making something out of nothing. They wrote a song about Manning, The Ballad of Archie Who?, although as memory serves, it wasn't a very good song. Not even measured by the musical standards of the '70s. A recent poll named Manning the 18th best college player in history. But Manning didn't win the Heisman in 1970. Jim Plunkett did. To those of us who watched Manning, it seemed terribly unfair. (We did not yet know that not winning the Heisman would soon become a Manning family tradition.) Plunkett was a fine player himself, and he won a Super Bowl. But for the life of me, I can't remember one moment from his college career. So why not take this year's trophy and give it to Archie? (I consider this smart spending. Using the same logic, you could take this year's Academy Award for Best Picture and give it to, say, Casablanca. What's the down side of this argument?) Not a Manning man? Then go back to 1992, when Gino Torretta, the Ken Dorsey of his day, won the Heisman over Marshall Faulk. You could give this year's trophy to Faulk. You could give it to Dick Butkus, who mysteriously lost the 1964 voting to John Huarte. Give it to Lawrence Taylor or Jerry Rice or Walter Payton or other people who got a raw deal in the Heisman voting. Still not on board? How about this? Give this year's trophy to Julius Peppers. Yes, he's busy playing in the NFL, but hey, he should be a senior. Or give it to Clinton Portis or Donte' Stallworth. Maybe that's how you save the Heisman. You let the NFL rookies who should be juniors or seniors be on the ballot, too. Failing that, the nation is pretty much out of ideas as far as what to do with this year's Heisman. That isn't new. Ever since it became normal for college's stars to use their junior seasons as a jumping off point, it has been harder and harder to figure out where to hand the Heisman. Frankly, it beats me why anyone cares anymore. The Heisman is the most overhyped award in sports, as much about myth and marketing as it is performance and pressure. It almost always goes to the best quarterback or running back on one of the best two or three teams in the country. It matters too much, and it's decided too early. A confession: I haven't voted in years because the committee wants the votes before the season is complete. Yet, it's the only award in sports that really matters. People couldn't tell you last year's American League MVP or NFL Defensive Player of the Year, but they can relive the Steve Spurrier-Bob Griese debate from 1966 at a moment's notice. All of that said, whose name should really be on the inside of the envelope? If I can't vote for Archie, then I'd give the award to Byron Leftwich. Oh, I don't think Leftwich will win. Not with "Marshall" on the letterhead of his resume. For Leftwich to win, his team would have to go unbeaten while he threw for 40 touchdowns, ran for 10 and rescued school administrators from a burning building. Instead, Dorsey probably will win because he's a pretty good player on a great team, because he does the little things well, because he's a safe pick. No disrespect to Dorsey, but if the ballot was 25 players long, I wouldn't include Dorsey. Hey, he's not the best player in his own huddle. Willis McGahee is. Leftwich, bluntly, is a better player. He's first in the nation in total offense, first in passing yardage, second in passing attempts. None of those are why I would vote for Leftwich though. He's also first in legend. Ultimately, this is the mark of greatness. What did the player do to make you talk about him? What memories did he provide? Ten days ago, against Akron, Leftwich had the most amazing night of the season. He had dented up his shin pretty badly, bad enough that he had to leave the game for X-rays. Then he came hobbling back, playing on one leg, trying to bring Marshall from behind. On several plays, Leftwich would complete a long pass and his linemen would lift him and, like litter-bearers, haul him down the field toward another huddle. Maybe that wasn't enough for the Heisman. It was enough for me. That's what Heisman winners are supposed to do, isn't it? They're the type of players who leave you talking about their exploits, the way Roger Staubach and Herschel Walker and Bo Jackson did. The way Doug Flutie and Earl Campbell and Billy Sims did. Squint your eyes and you can still remember what those guys did on a field. In 20 years, you'll remember Leftwich, too. Maybe you'll remember that, just like Archie, he got a raw deal from the Heisman voters. Those jugheads.
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