NARRATOR (V/O): You’re watching “When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong.” Percy Harvin was one of the most talented athletes in college football history: A five-foot, eleven-inch receiver out of Virginia Beach, he broke records as an all-purpose offensive player for the University of Florida, totaling 32 career touchdowns and helping to revolutionize the role of the wide receiver in the modern-day spread offense. He was drafted in the first round by the Minnesota Vikings and signed a five-year contract worth more than $14 million.

Scene: A classroom in a Florida high school. A dozen or so high-school football players are seated at the desks; PERCY HARVIN, flanked by the high-schoolers’ coaches as well as some of his own former coaches, stands behind a podium at the front of the room.

NARRATOR (V/O): Harvin had a speaking engagement at a high school in Florida to tell some potential Florida recruits about his time at the university and how it prepared him for the NFL, when one of the students asked him a fairly innocuous question. (more…)

Percy Harvin is injured. Big deal, we say: Percy Harvin is always injured. Just before the national title game in 2006, Percy Harvin sneezed and severed his femoral artery. Bleeding profusely and on the brink of death, he put on his pants, strapped on the helmet, and after three cups of Gatorade ripped off 82 yards of total offense and a TD against the Ohio State Buckeyes. He then died immediately postgame, but recovered in time for spring practices.

Like a finely tuned sports car, Percy runs at top speed and, more frequently than not, is on blocks during the week receiving physical therapy, being massaged by virgins, and laughing gustily at the jesters and midgets who amuse the court at Florida. For the uninitiated, here’s an easy summary of Percy’s injuries over the years.

We left out an ingrown toenail that had him in the ICU until three hours before the South Carolina game. He was slowed to a mere 8 carry, 167 yard performance as a result. Our apologies. (HT: Holly.)

Delightfully literal metaphor from LSUFreek on what speedy, tiny running backs like Noel Devine and Rainey/Demps can do to your defense:

NYT, 10/24/08:

“I think the small, fast running back has a place in football,” said Les Miles, the L.S.U. coach, whose reigning national champion Tigers were pummeled by Florida, 51-21, on Oct. 11, when Demps rushed for 129 yards, including a 42-yard touchdown. “It’s probably a role that will expand the way football is going.”

Running backs on the whole tend to be snack-sized as far as football players go: a quick survey of the top ten rushers in the nation this year reveals only one, Andre Anderson of Tulane, who is listed at 6′0″. (BTW: that is his Fantasy Nobility name: Andre Anderson of Tulane, Ruler of Estates and Sirer of Kings.) Even the “power backs” in the top ten–Donald Brown of UConn and Shonn Greene of Iowa–are at 5′10″ and 5″11′, respectively.

Thus Miles suggesting there’s a role for the smaller back refers to even smaller backs than you might think, the Chris Raineys and Jeff Demps of the world, generously listed in the 5′ 5″–5′9″, 150-180 pound range. Since the spread offense is going nowhere and neither are they, these gifted gentlemen need a name, a category, and a definition, and we’re here to provide it. The new verbiage, codified:

Quarkback (?kwork-bak), n. A running back loosely defined as being 5′9″ or less and weighing between 150 and 180 pounds and possessing 4.4 speed or less. Derivation: internet slang.

Example: Jeff Demps, Florida quarkback, ran so fast on his third quarter dash to the endzone he inflicted second-degree burns on SEC official Penn Wagers as he passed him.

Glad we could help. (Andrew wants part ownership, or at least inspirational credit from this entry. Granted in heaps.)