Could it be his quick adaptation to an NFL offense? No!
Perhaps it’s his establishment as the first impressive Ravens quarterback since they fled fun times in Cleveland? No!
Is it because he reminded us all that Delaware is actually a state in the union and there are people there, and they even have a college, and we kind of forgot it exists because no one ever has any reason to go there, unless they work in insurance or the credit card industry, but still it has football, so I guess it’s cool? Nay, nay and nay!
It’s his refusal to tweeze the unibrow.
In a day when “Ken” dolls are taking snaps from high schools to the pros, we should salute the field general the rest of us can relate to. He’s like the ugly kid in a boy band the producers threw in to make the others look good in comparison. Except he can actually sing!
Our hero has succeeded despite swimming against the tide. A study out of Southern Utah University and Ursinus College suggests all starting quarterbacks are good looking.
It also says that when these guys were young, they were given extra attention because of their faces, and perhaps even steered toward the starring role. That’s the real kick in the teeth for the rest of us. These jerks were already going to get the girls without the quarterback cache. Where’s the justice, nature?
But then there’s Joe, who, according to a makeshift poll of the ladies at work, would be a good-looking guy if not for the impersonation of Bert. Now in his second year of fame, with the bright lights of cameras and commercials, news conferences and photo spreads, he should have succumbed to peer pressure and tried to look the part.
And it’s not like a major surgical procedure is needed. We don’t have to call Michael Jackson’s doctor even if he has the suddenly free schedule. Joe doesn’t even have to endure the man-o-lantern scene in The 40-Year-Old Virgin. We’re talking half an inch on either side. You can get that with a little duct tape.
Yet Big Joe still gives the big Italian salute to society’s norms.
Why? It could just be, that on any given Sunday, the young man considers the millions of dudes with beer guts, big noses and fire-breathing flatulence watching. And when this massive group of misfits looks at the screen or down from the stands, they know they can do anything. One of them has made it to the big time.
Under center, they see America’s quarterback.