A Standard for excellence
If you were a guy growing up in my Norfolk neighborhood back in the 50’s, you pulled for either the Washington Redskins or the Baltimore Colts.
Most of my buddies and I were die-hard Colts fans.
Why?
The “cool factor” of the players, of course.
In our 10-year-old minds, they could do no wrong.
Simply put, they were our heroes.
The legendary Johnny Unitas played quarterback. Everything he touched seemingly turned to gold.
Raymond Berry, his favorite receiver, played his position as if stick-um covered his hands
There were others, of course, but that duo was a perfect model for my best friend and me, who proudly sported generic blue jerseys with our idols’ numbers (actually white felt cut-outs) stitched on by our moms.
Many afternoons and weekends, we’d head to the back yard, the street, or the playground at Larchmont Elementary two blocks away to play our imaginary game of pitch and catch.
Wearing Unitas’s familiar 19, my buddy was the quarterback. I, wearing Berry’s 84, caught the long balls.
In 1958, the Colts defeated the New York Giants 23-17 in overtime for the National Football League championship. It was called the greatest game ever played. We reveled in the moment.
Eventually, we moved on to other endeavors and interests, our heroes retired, and the Colts pulled up stakes and moved to Indianapolis.
As I became an athlete (I use that term loosely), coach, and sports writer covering mainly high school events, my interest in the big-time pro game dissipated.
Nevertheless, if anyone asked me my favorite team (not an unusual question when you teach guys), I’d invariably answer the only way I knew: the Baltimore Colts.
Then, this past spring the Seattle Seahawks drafted Russell Wilson, Collegiate class of 2007.
Suddenly, my interest in the NFL was rekindled.Before long, I was checking the Seahawks’ and the Seattle Times’ websites for any morsel of information and found that the same questions that had followed Russell since high school now followed him to the Pacific Northwest.
Could he make the jump, this time from the Big Ten to the NFL?
Of course, I thought.
Would his height (officially a shade under 5-11 and a favorite topic of critics) be a detriment?Well, actually, no.
Could he learn the Seahawks’ system quickly?
Yes.
Could he inspire a bunch of hardened veterans as he had his peers in high school and college?
Yes, again.
But would he get the chance?
That was the 64-dollar question, especially since Seattle had just dropped a ton of money on Matt Flynn, who, they hoped, would solve their perennial quarterback issues.
Soon, though, Russell won ‘em over, and as the season unfolded, he became a national sensation.
When Atlanta finally ended the Seahawks’ season, Collegiate’s favorite son had completed 252 of 393 passes for 3,188 yards and 26 touchdowns against only 10 interceptions, rushed 94 times for 494 yards and four more scores, and earned a spot on the Pro Bowl roster.
Once an afterthought in the NFC West, the ‘Hawks were 12-6 and the team of the future.
So how did RW1 work his magic, which, by the way, surprised no one at Collegiate?
He has athleticism, intelligence, maturity well beyond his years and an inner drive to be the absolute best.
He has poise, confidence, and charisma without a trace of arrogance.
He has an uncanny blend of eye-of-the-tiger intensity and unflappability that allows him to remain above the fray and block out distractions.
He has the ability to command the respect of teammates and opponents, not so much with his words as with his actions.
He has an abiding faith in God and his own prodigious ability.
He plays with an unabashed joie de vivre that would make his dad, the late Harrison B. Wilson Jr., immensely proud.
Many years ago, I ceased viewing athletes as heroes, but inspirational stories that reflect all that’s right in a crazy world have always warmed my heart.
When I had my life before me, Unitas, Berry, and the Baltimore Colts set a standard for excellence that I wanted to emulate.
Now, Russell Wilson – the man more than the athlete – provides the same model for my grandchildren’s generation and gives me great hope for their future.
