By BARRY KELLY
Looking back, it probably had more to do with the cape than anything else, but that didn't stop the tears. I was a kid, old enough to feel silly but young enough not to care. The realization hit me like a two-page splash of Doomsday rocketing Superman through a skyscraper. I'll never fly. It's obvious, of course. Maybe I should have acknowledged the fact years before that sweaty summer evening when my eyes began to glisten after daydreaming about Krypton, but I didn't. I'll never fly, and I'll never get to wear that damn cape either. I can't be Superman-no one can. It's impossible. Sometimes, though, someone takes me back to being 10 years old, lying on the floor and pouring over a stack of comic books. Sometimes, someone makes me believe, if only for an instant, that some men can fly. Saturday may be one of those times. Kids, gather 'round, and let me tell you the legend of Reggie Bush. The junior tailback on the best team in the country and one of the best teams in the history of college football will lead No. 1 USC into Memorial Stadium on Saturday at 12:30 p.m. Bush is sensational, he is spectacular, he is scintillating, and yes, sometimes he seems like Superman.
Bush has spun, juked and reversed his way to accumulate an average of 193.22 all-purpose yards per game-the second most in the nation behind Memphis' DeAngelo Williams. The quintessential jack of all trades, Bush has rushed 123 times for 1,022 yards, caught 27 passes for 311 yards, ran back 15 kickoffs for 244 yards and returned 16 punts for 162 yards. He has scored 14 touchdowns this season and looks incredible every time he crosses the goal line. I don't think Bush will win the Heisman trophy. For the second time, the honor will go to the player who pitches him the ball. Matt Leinart deserves it because his poise and leadership-not to mention incredible statistics-have the Trojans on the brink of their third consecutive national title. Bush is not the best player in college football. He is, however, the most exciting, because sometimes, the ball touching his hands is like Clark Kent sneaking into a phone booth. I have had the opportunity to see Bush play in person twice, and please listen when I tell you to go to the game Saturday. Yes, Cal is slumping, and you probably have an English paper or an economics problem set or a computer science project due next week. I don't care. You have a chance to see one of the most electric players to ever strap pads over their shoulders. Go to the game. Plus, there's the added bonus that the Bears just may party like it's 2003, when they upset USC in triple overtime. You don't want to be the one writing Java code when the fans storm the field. One day, years from now, you may find yourself telling your children about the time you saw Reggie Bush play in college. I know it's a rivalry game with the kind of national implications that would shame even the greatest of Lex Luthor's schemes. But for at least one moment during the contest, stop screaming for your team and focus on Bush. Then let your eyes blur slightly. Do you see? That's not a 5 on his chest anymore, is it? I long ago made my peace with the impossibility of my comic book fantasies, tossing them in my memory bank as friendly reminders of childhood innocence. I can't be Superman. I'm OK with simply being Clark Kent, focusing on the three R's-reading, writing and reporting on people who can fly, sometimes. People like Bush. I'm not jealous though. After all, he doesn't get to wear the cape either, so we're even.
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