I suppose I post a warning that if you have issues with your blood sugar you need to check with your doctor before watching this treacle so you don’t go into diabetic shock.
Seriously, ESPN? You actually allowed this dreck on the air? Until now, I’ve had no particular beef with Trey Wingo, but this is so pretentious and saccharine, I cannot believe not one producer, executive or engineer at the network stepped in to kill this thing in its infancy like Jeb Bush on baby Hitler.
I mean, am I missing something? When Trey Wingo’s son was little, Peyton Manning took a picture with him so the kid is a fan. So the two of them enjoyed watching Manning play. And what else? Nothing. That’s pretty much it. Manning didn’t give Wingo the Younger an organ or carry him out of a burning building. He met the lad. And for that, ESPN chose to violate every rule you’ll find on the final in a Journalism 101 class.
This little video sex act tells you nothing about the subject, but everything about the presenter. We learn nothing about the athlete except he is capable of facing a camera and remembers a boy’s name. But we do get the breaking news that a sports anchor loves his son and can wax poetic about it over the kind of tinkly piano music usually reserved for profiles of cancer patients or the opening of The Masters.
I’m happy for the Wingos, I really am. I’m sure the younger is a great kid despite always asking for No. 69. I’d just prefer next time Trey wants to philosophize about their relationship or how an athlete laid his hands upon them thus bathing them in the sweet, heavenly light of God’s love, he write a book. Some “Father’s Playing Catch with Sons” memoir we can find at a Barnes & Noble shelf and give it the ignoring it deserves.