by J. Brown
I feel bad for Braxton Miller.
He's a superstar quarterblack, he gets his tuition (and maybe some other things) paid for at no expense to him, and he's arguably the most popular kid on one of the biggest college campuses in the country. If all that weren't enough, he probably has the most resume-boosting, upper crust-sounding name of any Black athlete ever. By most accounts, he should probably feel bad for me. I mean, the guy gets Twitter shout-outs from LeBron, for crying out loud. Despite all of this, I can't help but think about last year's NCAA College Football Championship and how it might have affected him.
After leading the Ohio State Buckeyes to a 12-2 record in 2013, Miller was expected to be a Heisman favorite in 2014. He had won Big Ten Offensive Player of the Year for the past two years in a row. The Buckeyes were ranked fifth in preseason polls. Things looked promising. But after Miller sustained a season-ending shoulder injury during a preseason practice, suddenly, it was all over.
As some of you know, the Buckeyes would go on to perform quite well without him. They finished the 2014 season with a 14-1 record, qualified for the first ever NCAA College Football Playoffs, and ending up winning the championship behind the heroics of Cardale Jones, who was the 3rd-string quarterback when the season started. As the confetti fell and the commentators waxed poetic about the resilience of the team and the abilities of their new undervalued leader, all I could think about was Braxton Miller. How does he feel? Sure, his team just won a national championship, but they did it without him from start to finish. They didn't even need him, and they actually fared better without him. What's worse: He was basically forgotten. I re-watched the closing moments of the championship game on YouTube, and the cameras never even showed his face during the celebration.
Was he happy about this? Did he enjoy seeing his team win it all, or was he a little bit salty that they did it with him standing on the sideline? Can star athletes truly enjoy wins that they didn't affect in any significant way?