Going undercover as an aspiring college quarterback prospect

Why yes, yes I was. And so a technical assistant splashed my image on the screen and let play a super slow-mo, high-definition video of my drops and form. As if playing Operation with my mechanics, the gurus examined my correctable mistakes (poor first step) and the somewhat incorrigible (my right hip's refusal to shift through).

There I was in all my glory, faking handoffs and short-arming my follow thru. You could read the intensity on my lips, Jordan-esque in my tongue's omnipresence as though it were part of my follow thru. But then Kennan asked for the tape to be stopped. Sure that the bottom was about to fall out from my cup of coffee, I thought he would say I had the kid-hands of Alex Smith and the cemented-feet of Drew Bledsoe .

"That's Montana right there," Kennan said. "That ball pat."

Montana ? Hannah or Joe, I thought.

"We used to teach quarterbacks in the '80s not to touch the ball like that," Kennan said. "But then Joe was doing it, so we figured if the best is, why not?"

On my bucket list for life, I had marked down: be compared -- in any way, shape or form -- to a Hall of Fame quarterback. And now I had. I could join Brett Favre in retirement.

"I'm not saying go back to college and walk on," Kennan said. "But you can walk out knowing you weren't the worst one here."