The Four Color Media Monitor

ESPN wrote about football player Jeremiah Love's interests in comics and manga, as he produced a comic biography of himself:

If his life were a comic book, like the project he has spent the past four years creating with his father, Jason, and a team of artists, this would be Jeremiyah's origin story, one not all too far from reality for Notre Dame's star running back. He swung from moldings on the 10-foot ceilings above his living room as a toddler, developed into an all-sport star who could dunk a basketball in eighth grade and became one of the nation's top recruits by his junior year on the football field at Christian Brothers College High School.

As the story goes, Love entered the opening game of the season against powerhouse East St. Louis still bothered by nagging injuries from the track season, and his coach, Scott Pingel, had no plans to let him play. But the starter and the backup went down, so in Love went, and on his first touch, he ran a counter to the right side and sprinted 80 yards to the end zone.

"He made everyone else on the field look stupid," Pingel said. "He's making big-time D-I recruits look silly. That's when everything really took off for Jeremiyah."

But no origin story is complete without conflict, and if Love's legend was burnished on the football field, he hardly fit the image of the all-powerful superhero away from it. He was isolated and introverted. When he felt uncomfortable, he retreated into those superhero stories -- comics, graphic novels and, especially, anime. The worlds of heroes and villains and adventure made sense in a way his real life often didn't.

"People thought that I was weird," Love said. "I didn't really have friends. I didn't like to talk to people. I liked to play by myself. I just preferred it this way."

For a while, those urges to isolate himself seemed like the villain in Love's story, the thing that set him apart, the battle he had to fight. What he has come to understand as his legend has grown at Notre Dame and as he has grappled with how to tell his story on the pages of his own comic, is that those things that made him different were actually the source of his strength.

"That's the whole point of the comic, of the message we're trying to put out," Jason Love said. "Sometimes kids like Jeremiyah are labeled, but he reverses all those things -- all the doubters and cynics. That's his superpower."

Well I do wish him good luck with his project, and if he's got a positive message to offer, that's what makes this worthy. I do think it's a shame, however, that if he got drawn to manga and anime, it was through an otherwise shoddy business:

JASON REMEMBERS SITTING in his kitchen one afternoon and hearing a voice from another room speaking Japanese.

Who was in the house?

He rushed into the living room, and he found Jeremiyah, sitting alone in front of the television. He was watching anime -- a Japanese animation style -- and interacting with the characters on screen.

Jeremiyah was 10 years old, watching with subtitles, and he had picked up enough of the language to provide his own running dialogue.

"I just fell in love with it," Jeremiyah said. "I stumbled upon it on Netflix when I was about 6. As a kid, I liked cartoons, and anime looks like cartoons but it's not. I kept watching more and more, and I got addicted."

Even so, what's so great about Netflix that anybody just has to subscribe to their services? Watch anime if you will, and watch it with subtitles to learn some Japanese, but there's no point wasting money on their services, period.

That said, what's interesting about their comic project is that it's also drawing from manga style:

But this wasn't simply a superhero story. It was Jeremiyah's story. It had to be perfect, and that's where the Loves kept running into problems. They'd hire an artist, a writer or an agency, and after a few months of work, they'd realize the whole output was perfunctory. Most artists they talked to saw dollar signs because of Love's football prowess, but Love needed the story to be personal.

In December 2024, they met Chris Walker, and finally, they felt a connection.

"Chris was Yoda for us," Jason said.

Walker had spent a decade working with Marvel and DC Comics, had worked as a creative director at an agency and had even helped design the cover for a graphic novel by rapper Ghostface Killah. He now runs his own creative agency, Limited Edition, and he had recently found some success partnering with the Chicago Bulls and MLB Network on sports-related properties. He was hoping to grow that market when he reached out to Notre Dame's NIL collective, which connected him with the Loves.

When Walker met Jeremiyah, he was sold instantly.

"He's talkative, but you have to sit down with him for a while to get to that," Walker said. "I've had friends like him, who don't like to be the center of attention. I thought, here's the No. 1 running back in the country, and the moment I met him, it was like being around family."

Walker liked the pitch of an anime-styled comic. He worked with Buffalo Bills linebacker Larry Ogunjobi, who told him how anime helped him learn discipline, and he had read an interview with New Orleans Pelicans star Zion Williamson, who said 80% of the NBA were fans of anime. Clearly there was an untapped market.

Obviously, there's potential in developing it manga-style, but it is still a pity if artwork that isn't Japanese style is being potentially sidelined in favor of manga's, presumably because many comics in the USA, certainly mainstream, aren't delivering artistically by modern standards. All the same, I hope Love's project does well, and perhaps does for football what Captain Tsubasa did for soccer.

Labels: history, manga and anime