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When Johnny Football Manziel left us for richer pastures, he left some big shoes to fill, on the field and off. Enter Kenny Hill. Kenny exploded onto the scene with a big game against South Carolina, but something was missing. Something like, playing to the crowd, hurdling people for no apparent reason, popping a bottle of champagne on the sideline(cannot confirm JFM ever did this). No doubt he is a great quarterback, and I have no doubt he’s a good kid. Maybe too good.
Since we all miss the off-field antics of JFM, I am taking some time each week to explore what Kenny Trill could be up to if I had my way.
When comparing Kenny Hill to Johnny Manziel, I’m drawn to the movie Dazed and Confused. Maybe that makes no sense to you. Well, I see the two as the same character, but if that character had made a different decision. Randall “Pink” Floyd, the school’s QB does not sign the team’s pledge sheet and spends his time drinking at the moontower, then playing a game of catch on the 50 yard line. Hill is like the same character, but if Floyd had signed the pledge sheet. All business. All about football, nothing else before it, and nothing else to interfere with it. Well I want to know what Hill would be like if he didn’t sign that pledge sheet. What would his moontower be? What field would he go to revel in his sports glory? What would Kenny Trill be doing?
This past weekend the Aggies took on the Lamar Cardinals, which would have given him the perfect opportunity to celebrate his win by heading over to the baseball diamond and starting an impromptu home run derby with former Cardinal Kevin Millar. Of course it wouldn’t be Trill if there weren’t a few shenanigans involved. Before every round, each player would shotgun a beer, increasing the level of difficulty as the night wore on. Of course, as news of the showdown spread, the stadium started to buzz with spectators, filling the seats to watch these two gladiators of sport, one sitting firmly in his prime, while the other, well, past it.
No showdown between sportsmen can be official unless there is something to make it real, a wager of sorts. Of course, the only thing to do here is for the loser to have to pay for the inevitable bottle service at the winner’s choice of College Station bars. No doubt Trill would win this competition, and the two would head off to whatever haunt he has made famous by showing up there every night.
No one can be certain, but rumor has it that a Roy Hobbs-like figure was seen wandering off, muttering, “There goes Kenny Trill, the best there ever was at late night fictional home run derby.”
Kenny Trill, Kevin Millar, and their merry band of “idiots” then spend a night out recounting stories of greatness. Millar digs deep and offers sage advice on winning championships and doing things for the team ahead of yourself. As he looks up to finish his motivating, albeit rambling speech, he notices Trill has not paid attention to one single word. He was too busy flooding sorority girl’s Instagram profiles with selfies, doing his soon-to-be trademarked credit card swipe hand gesture. Trill doesn’t carry cash.
Alas, we can only dream that this was the weekend of the Trill.
Worked for the internet in Los Angeles before being lured back to Florida by SEC football and the promise of a bourbon bar. When he's not internetting or watching football, he's probably out giving himself 4-footers on the golf course.
