Michael Vick of the Philadelphia Eagles Deserves an Emmy

A prominent sect of television stars were conspicuously absent from Sunday night’s Primetime Emmy telecast. While writers, directors, producers and actors took turns parading on stage in downtown Los Angeles, a distinct faction was ignored—the professional athlete, whose value as an entertainer often goes unaccounted.

Though some would dispute the semantics, no weekly scripted drama has delivered over the years as professional football has. The never-ending reach of television has not only showcased the NFL, put perhaps defined it more than any other sport. But the reverse may also be true.

The league’s positive ripple effect on the ratings of the networks that carry its games is undeniable. Over the years, the American public has shown a growing appetite for football, and a bizarre inability to change the channel once the game is over.

Philadelphia Eagles quarterback Michael Vick will almost certainly never win an Emmy, and that’s a damn shame.

Pro football could stack its antagonist against that of any other TV show. Tony Soprano. Ben Linus. John Lithgow’s character in season four of “Dexter.” That bird-looking woman from “Glee.” Vick blows them all away. None of us have DVR’d a more complex or compelling character than the left-hander from Newport News, Virginia.

Though Vick’s previous crimes and subsequent prison term were very much real, the grandiose public reaction to his re-entry to society seemed to reach a different stratosphere of drama.

People can and have hated the Dallas Cowboys or Tim Tebow or that new rule that has kickers pounding out touchbacks from their own 35-yard lines this year, but these resentments are considered almost benign, almost a fun sort of hate. But discussion regarding Vick’s return to the NFL in 2009 transcended sports, for better or for worse.

The game was sold as a homecoming for Vick, despite the quarterback having finished his federal prison term under house arrest some 600 miles from the Georgia Dome.

Atlanta’s new quarterback, Matt Ryan, was preoccupied with booking the Falcons’ fourth consecutive winning season. Even Eagles head coach Andy Reid reportedly warned Vick that, for his team’s purposes, this was just another game, an assessment that seemed fine with everyone involved.

And oh by the way, Vick had already returned to play his former team in Week 13 of the 2009 season, albeit in limited action. That was a fact that NBC all but ignored in their telecast.  

But Vick had no clear antagonist; for all those who spoke of “never forgiving” Vick (as if each detractor personally held the keys to Heaven’s pearly gates), that resentment wasn’t emitted from a single agent last night.

The Falcons had a current quarterback in Ryan who was relentlessly bland, and (wisely) never spoke ill of or at length about the Virginia Tech product who preceded him under center in Atlanta. Even their owner, the soft-spoken Arthur Blank, has been outspoken in his support for the resurrection of Vick’s football career.

Vick played well last night before making an early exit, one dictated by medical necessity after being whipped into his own teammate and shown bleeding from the mouth (Vick has since been diagnosed with a concussion).

The lead changed so many times during the game, the fans might have had some whiplash of their own.

But unlike in television drama, the show doesn’t end when the hero leaves; it was the unknown Mike Kafka who worked to write his own storybook ending for the Eagles, and he nearly did, completing every pass he threw until watching teammate Jeremy Maclin drop a pass that hit him in the hands on fourth down.

And another hero was nearly born. That’s the NFL.

The greatest criticism in television entertainment today is its predictability, and most of American TV’s “new” shows are ripped off from someplace.

“The Office” was originally a British show, “Wilfred” was originally Australian, and “Charlie’s Angels” first aired before you were probably born.

Professional football doesn’t have that problem, as even the best formulae for offenses and defenses must be constantly revised, lest its authors find themselves facing cancellation.

A fluid trail of superlative adjectives have followed Michael Vick through his years in the NFL: athletic, dynamic, electrifying, polarizing, and we could go on. But perhaps more important than what anyone else says about him is that we can tune in each week and watch him for ourselves.

While Vick may never be awarded by the NFL for being its most valuable player, it’s more unfortunate that he may never be formally recognized for being its most fascinating.