Chris Weinke wrote the speech early last week, not sure if his heartfelt words would ever leave the inside breast pocket of his blue suit. He knew there were Heisman Trophy voters who would leave his name off their ballots -- not because of his numbers on the football field, but because of the numbers on his birth certificate: 7-31-72.

So he struggled and tinkered with his thoughts until the three perfect sentences made their way onto paper. "I know many people thought I was too old for this award. They thought it was unfair that a 28-year-old would be playing college football. But if I may, let me suggest that success in college football is not about age, but about experience."

He was right, of course. He was always right. So what if Weinke is pushing 30, and his first product endorsement might be for Rogaine, and he vaguely remembers disco? What matters most is that Weinke didn't let age dictate the pursuit of his dream, which was to play quarterback at Florida State.

Seconds before the official presentation at the Downtown Athletic Club, Weinke could feel his right knee knocking against the left knee of Oklahoma quarterback Josh Heupel.

"You nervous?" Weinke half-whispered.

"Yeah," said Heupel in hushed tones. "You nervous?"

"Uh, huh," said Weinke.

When his name was announced Weinke sat stunned for a moment, then stood and shook hands with TCU's LaDainian Tomlinson, then Heupel, then Purdue quarterback Drew Brees. His heart was pounding so hard it probably left bruise marks on his rib cage. He stepped to the podium, reached for that sheet of paper in his suit jacket and let his emotions speak.

"With apologies to Lou Gehrig, I feel like I'm the luckiest guy in the world tonight," said the former Toronto Blue Jays minor leaguer. "I got to pursue two dreams all the way to their conclusion. The first one did not turn out as well as I had hoped. But the second one, college football, became everything I ever dreamed it could be."

Weinke now has a national championship ring and a Heisman Trophy. But there was a time when neither seemed possible. Had Dan Kendra not blown out a knee or blown up a chemistry set, Weinke might have been an FSU afterthought. Had offensive coordinator Mark Richt convinced Ronald Curry to sign with the Seminoles rather than North Carolina, Weinke likely would have been a backup. And none of this would have happened had Weinke not found a way to return from a 1998 neck injury that nearly left him a quadraplegic.

Those are the facts. As for the numbers -- a Division I-A-leading 4,167 yards, 33 touchdowns, a third consecutive FSU national title game and 32 victories as the Seminoles starter -- they speak for themselves. So does the ignorance of 122 Heisman voters who compromised the integrity of the award by leaving Weinke off their ballots. (The same holds true for OU's classy Heupel, who incredibly was left off 106 ballots.)

Too old, they said of Weinke. Too old? You should have heard him Monday afternoon, as he spoke on a borrowed cell phone in front of New York's Marriott Marquis on Times Square. Weinke might be 28, but he sounded like, well, a college kid -- which is the way it should be.

"It's wild," he said. "It's unbelievable. The last two days ... words can't even describe it."

Weinke rang the opening bell at the American Stock Exchange. He rode in stretch limos. He marveled at the attention of strangers who recognized him on the street, wanting only to shake his hand or pat him on the back.

"You get out of the car and people are waiting for you," he said. "Amazing."

He returns to Tallahassee and reality later this week. Maybe by then his heart rate will have subsided. And if he's smart, Weinke will find a very special place for that 25-pound stiff-arming statuette and a very private place for that special piece of paper, the one dreams are made of.

Gene Wojciechowski is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. Movers and Shakers appears each Monday. E-mail him at gene.wojciechowski@espnmag.com.