A young Michael Jackson, before he lost his face both literally and figuratively, really knew how to grip a crowd with his moves, high-pitched voice and contagious energy.
Muhammad Ali’s mouth and jab stung in such a lively way.
Roberto Clemente flew around the bases with his arms flying everywhere. He fired lasers to the plate from deep in the right-field corner. His unconventional batting style made him a must-watch.
Michael Jordan seemed to climb invisible steps en route to spread-eagle jams.
Curly Howard split more guts than a meat factory full of butchers when he dropped to the floor and spun around, hollering, “Ah woo, woo, woo, woo!” and did so only when he forgot the lines he was supposed to memorize from The Three Stooges script.
Mario Cuomo speaking into a microphone at a political convention chilled the bones.
Phenomenal acts, all, but not as entertaining as watching Todd Reesing play college football. For my money, Reesing is the most entertaining male performer in the past half-century not named Neil Young.
Reesing took a nothing date on the schedule and certainly made the trip to Memorial Stadium worthwhile for the 52,530 spectators Saturday night, many of whom filled their bellies and lifted their spirits before the game on a perfect day for tailgating.
The numbers didn’t quite capture the extent of Reesing’s magic. He completed 13 of 20 passes for 208 yards and two touchdowns and rushed for 79 yards and two touchdowns, figures that don’t reveal how the game again looked a yo-yo in his hands. He did pretty much whatever he wanted with it.
At times it looked as if the game were being played on ice and Reesing was allowed to wear skates and the guys chasing him were in shiny loafers. Making people miss is a skill some football players have, but the expression means making defenders miss tackles. Reesing makes them miss contact entirely.
Watching him stop and start, drop and dart to avoid contact, I got to wondering if Reesing played the game tag as a youngster. So I asked him.
“I think I played tag at some point,” Reesing said.
Was he ever “It?” In order to be “It,” you have to get tagged.
“Well, I’m sure I was ‘It’ here or there, but I did my best to avoid it,” he said, playing along.
He didn’t sound sure he ever was “It.” I’m guessing he never got tagged and moved onto more challenging games.
Reesing’s second touchdown run, covering 13 yards, had the usual dose of scrambling here, there and everywhere and a nifty move at the goal line to avoid a big hit. It was a highlight play, and it wasn’t nearly as cool as his first score, a one-yard run.
Running left, Reesing pitched the ball to Jake Sharp. Wait a minute, no he didn’t. It’s just that 52,530 spectators and 11 defenders thought he did. It was a Magic Johnson no-look pass, except he kept the ball.
“By rule, the guy’s supposed to take the pitch back, but they tried to slow-play us sometimes so I had to give him a little juke to make sure he went where he was supposed to go,” Reesing said.
There’s that yo-yo in his hand again.
