Forget the revolution. It's not coming.

Those who think the Michael Vick supernova that has burst onto this NFL season will spawn a new breed of Vick-clones, should think again.

We're seeing a once-in-a-generation prototype here. There will be no revolution, because there won't be another Mike Vick for a long time. Oh yeah, there have been guys who are like Vick, but not exactly. And there's the rub.

The name that comes to mind is Michael Bishop from K-State. He was almost every bit as slippery as Vick and with a pretty big gun. But whatever he was, it was "not exactly." Bishop got drafted in the 7th round by the Patriots, hung on for a couple of seasons and then dropped of the NFL radar screen.

A Google search found him after a trade from the CFL's Calgary Stampeders sent Bishop to the Toronto Agronauts back in March of 2002. Since then, we have no idea.

Some say Antwaan Randle-El with the Steelers could be doing the same thing as Vick if someone gave him the chance. I don't know. Charlie Ward looked unbelievable himself at Florida State once upon a time. Allen Iverson was reportedly a better QB in high school than point guard. And Ronald Curry of North Carolina was supposed to be the next great thing.

You know the deal on Ward and Iverson. Curry is returning kicks part-time for the Oakland Raiders.

All of this, doesn't for a second say that Vick is going to be a great player in the long run. Or a Super Bowl winner. Or Hall of Famer. Only time, luck and circumstance will author those chapters. Maybe he will, maybe he won't. But know this: Mike Vick is a sports phenom that we only get to enjoy once or twice a decade, so let's soak it in.

The irony of last Sunday's Vick Show, was that it totally overshadowed a guy we used to get pretty exited about. Kordell Stewart was winning another game for the Steelers, with a rather slick, nifty, catch-me-if-you-can 28 yard scamper for a touchdown. Did it get much conversation? Hardly. Vick was running for and throwing for an eerily exact 173 yards each, including the "walk-off" 46 yard hyperspace scramble that didn't stop until he and his Falcon teammates reached the end of the Metrodome tunnel.

That run was just one of a half dozen that left Viking defenders broken-kneed, dizzy, and grasping for jersey scraps. Now granted, it IS the Vikes we are talking about here, but still. I believe that the main reason defenders can't seem to get an angle on Vick is that their "on-board football tracking computer" (read: brain) has a totally useless set of parameters programmed in when it comes to Vick. The attack vectors and pursuit angles their brains tell them instinctively work, are constantly a step behind Vick. The math doesn't add up.

In other words, the you can't imagine the difference between 4.4 and 4.2.

I always thought that Vick's one man show in the Sugar Bowl against Florida State was the single most jaw dropping college performance I had ever seen. Against a savage defense that routinely stocks the pro ranks, Vick put on coat after coat of invisible paint en route to almost pulling off an epic upset on his own.

Could he do that in the pros, I wondered at the time? I wasn't sure, but I knew this: I hoped like hell he could.

Right now, Vick-mania is running wild, and understandably so. But the challenge remains for Dan Reeves and the Falcons. How do you harness what might be the "Ultimate Weapon" and ride it to a championship? How much do you let him run? How many designed plays do you call for him? Can Vick's brilliance overshadow other important components of a well balanced offense?

Mind you, these are good problems to have. And aside from having to pop a few extra pills of Zocor when Vick takes off running, Dan Reeves is glad to have these issues on his plate.

(Note: Apologies here to the 1993 Cover of Sports Illustrated that proclaimed Randall Cunningham the "Ultimate Weapon" for his dual prowess on the ground and through the air. While Randall had 90% of Vick's shake and bake, I dare say he didn't possess nearly the top-line RPMs in the open field. Furthermore, Cunningham threw a gorgeous long ball, with a looping and fluid release. But he wasn't particularly accurate. A career 56% passer, Cunningham also had just two out of 11 seasons in Philly where he threw for better than 60%. Vick this year is throwing at 57%, and has been at 60% or better in half of his 12 starts this year. Assuming continued growth at the position after just a season and a half, it's no stretch to see Vick as a 60% or better passer over the long haul. In other words, sorry Randall. Someone is about to take your act to the next level.)

To watch Vick right now, is to see what makes sports endlessly fascinating. The rules of our games stay relatively the same for years and years. The dimensions of the field, and the court, and the park have remained constant. But the athletes themselves, are constantly evolving. Changing. Improving.

Players now do things the previous generation could only dream of doing. Whether the product on the field is better than the "good old days" is a subject for constant debate. But whether the athletes are better is not up for discussion.

Case closed. See, "Vick, Michael."