Travis Hunter is a one-man rewrite of the NCAA record books. He did more than simply tick boxes — he set them on fire. In one season, eight major trophies. He has the Walter Camp Award, the Heisman Trophy, the Biletnikoff Award, and the AP and Sporting News National Player of the Year honors, sitting on his shelf. He also snatched up the Bednarik and Lott IMPACT Trophies as the nation’s top defensive menace, and the Hornung Award again, this time as a repeat winner — the most versatile player in college football, bar none.

But wait — the list doesn’t end there. He was a first-team All-American on both offense and defense. The first player to accomplish that in the 134-year history of the Walter Camp All-America squad. The first ever on the AP list to get first-team nods at three positions. For continuing to thrive in the classroom while practically playing both ways, he was named the nation’s Academic All-American of the Year. So, it doesn’t sound like a pipe dream when a guy with that kind of resume declares his desire to remain a two-way star in the NFL. It seems like a strategy.

But over in Baltimore, that plan hits a wall called reality. At the Ravens’ pre-draft press conference, GM Eric DeCosta and head coach John Harbaugh were asked the inevitable question: What do you do with a guy like Hunter? A two-way force? A unicorn on the board? DeCosta was diplomatic, admitting Baltimore would likely pick a defined position for Hunter if they ever had a shot at him. “If you have a player like him, you probably pick top five. So, that’s not something we ever really wanna do...But if you have a player like him, we’d talk about his skills but figure out where he’s going to play most of his football on Day 1.”

John Harbaugh, the head coach of the Ravens, gave Travis Hunter a harsh reality check, despite his desire to play both sides of the ball in the NFL. “To say you’re gonna be completely immersed in everything there is to know on offense and defense—I don’t know if there’s enough hours in the day for it that a player would be able to do that and have every detail locked down. But I assume we’ll be playing against him, so we’ll find out how that team does it,” he said, doubting whether any rookie could master both sides at the NFL level.

Put differently, NFL Sundays are brutal, but Hunter’s ambitions are genuine. Yes, there have been two-way players in the league before. Deion Sanders did create a stir. In baseball, Shohei Ohtani has demonstrated that the impossible is possible. In the NFL, though? A rookie who survives 17-game seasons and consistently plays on offence, defence, and special teams? Harbaugh doesn’t question Travis Hunter’s ability. He questions the practicalities of grandeur. Hunter may be one of the most unique prospects in NFL history. But even unicorns don’t get to break the laws of time and fatigue. And in Baltimore, there’s no illusion about that.

That’s why Harbaugh stays grounded. While others chase legends, he calculates snap counts. But a thousand miles west, reality takes a back seat to legacy.

As Shedeur Sanders threatens retirement, Travis Hunter’s name still steals the spotlight

While Baltimore was keeping things strictly business-related, Colorado was creating its own football folklore. Shedeur Sanders and Travis Hunter, who transferred from Jackson State just two years ago, are now literally inscribed in the Buffaloes’ history. During the spring game this weekend, the University of Colorado announced that both of its jersey numbers would be retired. No. 2 for Shedeur. No. 12 for Travis. Gone forever.

In school history, this is the quickest jersey retirement. Faster than Heisman champion Rashaan Salaam, whose number wasn’t retired until nearly two decades after his final game. Faster than the legendary Eric Bieniemy or Kordell Stewart—whose jerseys still haven’t seen the rafters.

And the reactions? They haven’t been unanimous, to put it mildly. Darrin Chiaverini, a former Colorado wide receiver, raised a flag on X. He stated, “Retiring numbers is a huge honor and something that should never be taken lightly. There should be a cooling-off period… so decisions are not made out of emotion.”

Former linebacker Chad Brown backed him up. “You win the Heisman, I get it,” he posted. “But at least a waiting period, please.” The criticism wasn’t aimed at the players—it was about the precedent. Legacy, in their view, takes time to marinate. Shedeur Sanders and Travis Hunter were brilliant. Historic event. But were two seasons enough to eclipse decades of CU greats? Even fan-favorite QB Darian Hagan, whose number remains active, quietly reposted the critique. At the heart of the issue is a fast-forwarding of legacy. Colorado, revitalized under Deion Sanders, wants to honor the new era immediately. But some are asking: what’s the rush?

At the same time, Shedeur Sanders has recently dropped his own bombshell, implying that he may leave the NFL before even joining if it “doesn’t respect the brand.” Few people in his position could actually pose such a threat, but Sanders is no typical candidate. He has already established a brand that most rookies cannot match until their second deal, thanks to his NIL millions and widespread recognition.

Talk about retirement? Posturing, perhaps. Perhaps leverage. However, it is evident that the distinctions between pro football, college, and legacy are rapidly becoming hazy. The jerseys are rising in Boulder. Reality is settling in Baltimore. Amid all of this, Shedeur Sanders and Travis Hunter—two once-in-a-generation athletes—are attempting to draft their own regulations before the league sets them.