There are times when I’m embarrassed to call myself a sports writer.

Usually, it’s when ESPN is running something completely ridiculous like “Who’s sexier: Tom Brady, Tiger Woods or Lebron James?”

Or when ESPN devotes half a day discussing the minute details of how the Boston Red Sox decided not to go to Japan, and then changed their minds.

Or when ESPN devotes a whole day discussing “bracketology.”

Or when I’m covering a high school game, and fans constantly berate refs/players/coaches with all the class of a second-grader.

Or when …

Well, actually, it’s quite often.

Sports are a wonderful microcosm of the modern world. There are things I love. There are things I like. There are things I tolerate. And there are things so ridiculous, short-sighted and self-involved that I wonder how we ever made it past the 20th Century.

Which brings me to Terrelle Pryor.

I’ve never met Pryor. Probably never will. But the fact that I even know his name is scary.

Pryor’s every move has been documented, covered and dissected in the past year.

Is Pryor going to sign? When’s he going to do it? Who’s he like more, “University of Ohio State” or Michigan? Did you hear that he got into a fight?

How about this one: who cares?

Really, who cares?

If you’re Pryor, you care. If you’re a friend of Pryor, related to him, played ball with him or coached him, you care. And if you’re a Buckeye follower, well, congratulations.

But the rest of the world? ESPN? Sports writers, The Associated Press and the national media?

Are you kidding me?

Sadly, no.

This is where we’re at.

End times, kids.

We’re not even two months removed from the sad story of Kevin Hart, Pryor has yet to even play a down of collegiate football, but your average hardcore sports fan now knows more about Pryor than hat’s going on in Iraq, the state of their own local government, or why the national economy is in the tank.

A blow-by-blow breakdown of Pryor’s “career” and Wednesday’s press conference still ranks in ESPN’s top-10 stories, a day after Pryor made his announcement.

And judging by Pryor’s quotes, he’s got the act down.

(People wonder why modern athletes are so jaded. Well, if you had two major press conferences and had fielded thousands of questions from the media before you graduated high school, you might be, too.)

It’s all Pryor, all the time.

Granted, his numbers look great.

Pryor could be the next Vince Young.

But he could also be the next Michael Vick, Todd Marinovich, Maurice Clarett …

I have nothing against Pryor. I wish him the best.

Hate the game, not the player … I get it.

But we’re part of the game. We subscribe to it and contribute to it and keep it alive.

And, right now, the game is broken.

From the proliferation of high school recruiting sites to signing day-mania; from an obsession with meaningless stats to an unhealthy obsession with kids who aren’t even old enough to even vote—we’ve created a monster.
Pryor’s not a savior. He’s not a god. He’s not even a college star, yet.

He’s a kid.

Good luck, Terrelle Pryor.

I hope you make it.