A young man steps up to a podium, his eyes scanning the room.

The day before, this area teemed with anonymous high-schoolers. Now the collective bustle has been replaced by stoic media, all focusing their cameras and attention on the lithe figure settling in behind a microphone.

He doesn’t fill out his polo shirt very well, nor does he exude confidence. He hardly has the look of a young man who thousands of fans have speculated might lead their team to the promised land. That frame will fill out, they think. And his confidence is of the quiet variety; his teammates will rally around him.

Or at least that’s what they’ve heard. Blogs and recruiting sites have heralded him as a five-star prospect, a real blue-chipper.

Any team in the nation would be happy to have him under center, but his choices have narrowed to three. The same number of hats sit in front of him, representing the finalists in the contest for which school will win his services.

A light turns on, and he’s on air. Any previous nervousness appears to dissipate as he speaks the lines he’s rehearsed in his head hundreds of times.

The necessary complimenting of all those who pursued him out of the way, it’s time to make his choice known.

His hands extend over the hats, keeping all onlookers captivated. He acts as if he’s going to grab the first, then pulls back.

Cameras flash, capturing the false moment.

He grasps the second hat and begins to flexes the bill. He lifts it up, looking as if he’ll put it on. But his hands continue upward, and he flings the hat behind him.

Psych.

Now it’s time for lucky No. 3. This time, there are no surprises. He places the final hat on his head and smiles.

But the photo opportunity is short-lived. The local media is first into the fray, firing questions at the young man they’ve covered since junior high. They’re answered politely, but dismissingly.

He is shuttled off to a vacant classroom as soon as a path can be cleared. There, a camera awaits, manned by someone with an ESPNU credential.

Once the connections are verified, he goes on air opposite ESPN analyists Todd McShay and Tommy Tuberville. He talks about how tough his decision was and how grateful he is for it all to be over.

Elsewhere, fingers pound out posts on message boards and blogs, either damning or praising his choice.

Only in two rooms is the anguish greater: those that house the coaches who lost the sweepstakes. They had devoted countless hours into wooing this kid only to be spurned on national television.

Only one conversation remains. The young man navigates through a slew of congratulatory text messages before calling his new coach. A few minutes of mutual praise later, the young man is ready to celebrate.

Never mind that in college football nothing is guaranteed. Never mind that projections are just that and that injuries derail careers every day. Never mind the deification of a seventeen-year-old. Never mind all that, because this isn’t about reality — it’s about spectacle. Never mind all that, because this is signing day.

— — Edited by Chris Hickerson