Ben Bryant
Former UC QB Ben Bryant announced the other day he’d be spending his 6th and final college football season at Northwestern, trying to earn the starting job with the Wildcats. In the big, madcap picture of college football musical chairs, this news amounted to a footnote in places not named Evanston and Clifton.
Bryant’s guy Luke Fickell left UC for Wisconsin, new guy Scott Satterfield brought in a dual-threat QB, Emory Jones, from Arizona State via the U. of Florida. Ben Bryant read something into that, namely that Satterfield’s rep as a run-heavy guy was not in the best interests of the incumbent passer Ben Bryant.
As a grad transfer, Bryant was eligible to play at Northwestern immediately. The portal gave him instant access to that option. Sounds like a win-win for Bryant and a point in the portal’s favor.
So how come I’m shaking my head?
Maybe it’s because Northwestern will be Bryant’s fourth stop (counting UC twice) along the quasi-am football trail. I’m trying to come up with reasons this seems excessive. Maybe because job-hopping isn’t supposed to be how anyone spends their college years.
The bonds tied in college can be lasting and fond. The growth, the relationships, the life-impact can be profound. But they need extended together time. Maybe they don’t come together when you spend six years at four colleges. It’s more like a Vegas marriage.
It doesn’t matter how cynical college sports have made you. The college experience ought to amount to more than 3-4-5-6 years of subsidized job auditions.
Says you, Doc.
Agreed.
I wouldn’t know Ben Bryant from Ben Franklin. And far be it from me to advise anyone on the proper way to chase a dream. It’s not unlike what I’ve told parents of babies born with Down syndrome. Just because I wrote a memoir on raising Jillian doesn’t make me Dr. Spock.
I’m not telling folks how to raise their child. I’m telling them how I raised mine.
Maybe in 20 years, Bryant will not look back at his college years and wish he’d chosen roots instead of football opportunity. He will not see this new-found freedom of movement as a way of chasing rainbows. Coaches can flee whenever the mood strikes. Why shouldn’t players have the same choice?
Coaches are adults. Presumably, adulthood has armed them with experience, perspective, logic and rationality that players have not yet earned. Coaches are adults. College kids are college kids.
And now we’re asking college kids to make decisions that alter the arc of their lives.
Bryant wants to play in the NFL. He considered leaving college and opting for last month’s draft. I’m no MelTodd McKiper, but Ben Bryant looks to me like a good college quarterback. Good arm, reasonably accurate, doesn’t move especially well. In short, he sounds like a lot of NFL QB wannabes who end up holding clipboards at best.
Bryant’s home is an hour from the Northwestern campus. The Wildcats used five QBs last season, in going 1-11. Bryant will get his shot.
He was 9-2 last fall at UC, playing in a lesser league than the Big 10. He hurt his foot against Temple Nov. 19 and missed the rest of the season. The Bearcats were obviously better with Bryant than with his replacement, Evan Prater. But unlike the guy he played behind for three years, Desmond Ridder, Bryant was not a difference-maker.
Bryant tweeted, “Thank you Cincinnati for all you have done for me. You will always be home.’’ It was a classy thing to do. It is fair to wonder how homey Cincinnati really was for Bryant, given the choices he made.
Regardless, best of luck to him. Freedom of choice is a blessing. But not always all it’s cracked up to be.
Now, then. . .
THE REDS HAVE DECIDED TO discontinue the writers segment on the radio. For those who opt for Screaming John Sadak on the TV broadcast, the half-inning chat between the Enquirer guys, the MLB.com guy and the guy from The Athletic has been a 2nd-inning staple for years.
It was fun and informative and a good way for the club and the media heathens to market themselves. The Reds dropped it, explaining that the new speeded-up games too often left listeners short.
Here’s an idea, boys and girls: Extend the segment to the bottom half of the inning.
That doesn’t mean it has to run the whole inning. If it starts to slog, just bid until-next-time adieu to Bobby, Charlie, Mark or Trent. It was good radio.
So long, Bobby Nightengale
SPEAKING OF BOBBY. . . Nightengale is leaving the Enquirer for Minneapolis, to cover the Twins for the Star-Tribune, effective the end of this month. One of the joys of being a sports hack for a long time is watching the young guys grow as writers. Bobby is a great example.
He’s candid in his assessments of The Club, but never harsh about it. He’s a fine storyteller, he doesn’t think he knows it all. He’s fair and informed. It’s a big loss for the newspaper.
Cincinnati has had several very good Reds writers during my time here, guys I leaned on and learned from. Hal McCoy tops the list, obviously, but also Jerry Crasnick, Tim Brown, Chris Haft, Charlie Goldsmith and Trent Rosecrans. Apologies for leaving anyone out. OG remembers lots of people, but not everyone.
THE DERBY. . . I’ve never been into horse racing, because I wasn’t born into it. More than any other sport, horse racing has to be in the blood, I think. As a kid, the closest I got to blood relations was Pimlico, in Baltimore, site of the Preakness. To a snotty suburban DC kid, Baltimore might as well have been Pluto.
Horse racing survives as an anachronism, same as boxing and the Penn Relays. It lives in a long-ago time, when men wore fedoras to the track and devoured the Daily Racing Form. Horse racing comes completely alive only once a year, when the Derby comes calling. It’s the Masters of horse racing. The lone exception is the Belmont, when a Triple Crown is on the line.
It’s lamentable, because there are few things in life more romantic than horse barns, horse farms, red-dirt tracks and the inescapable dreams and majesties of a horse in earthly flight. Unless it’s the people who own the flyers. And train them, ride them and groom them.
Best ever
I could live to a thousand and never forget the sight of Secretariat winning the Belmont. The absolute athleticism! The undeniable royalty of the moment!
Only two of the 663 direct progeny of Secretariat live on. Big Red was as formidable as a stud as he was on the track. But he won the Crown 50 years ago, and 50 years is a very long time.
There is a magnificent story on The Athletic about one of the two survivors.
One, Maritime Traveler, a one-time teaser stallion, has enjoyed an idyllic retirement in the paddock of the stallion barn at Bridlewood Farms, a reputable breeding farm in Ocala, Fla.
The other is happily munching on some hay at a 501(c)(3) charity for rescued horses. Like her stall mates who call Bright Futures Farm home, Trusted Company, the daughter of Secretariat, arrived here because she had nowhere else to go.
If you read just one thing today. . .
TUNE O’ THE DAY. . . This is a definite surrender-the-man-card admission: I was a big Dan Fogelberg fan. Still am. Another Auld Lang Syne is way up there on the SchlockMeter. I like it a lot.
You could say today’s Tune is similarly schlock-y. To me, its tone and lyrics capture the essence of the 1st Saturday in May. “The chance of a lifetime, in a lifetime of chance’’ is among the most perfect lines ever written for a ballad.
It’s high time we joined in the dance. . .
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Bearcat,
I'm a bit of a thinwallet and not entirely on board with buying my news. I will consider your advice however. As I said the NYT has co-opted The Athletic for it's sports and features. The NYT digital rate has more the doubled in the last few years. I suppose I'll get a crowbar in my wallet and spring for the Athletic. Thanks for the perspective.