Saturday, April 28, 2007

how i learned to love the draft (from

Up until today, myself and the NFL Draft were mortal enemies. I was tired of reading about it and hearing people talk about it; tired of mock drafts and especially tired of hearing "Sorry, I can't hang out this weekend. The Draft is on."

You're WATCHING the Draft? In the hierarchy of television boredom, I put that right up there before the Antiques Road Show and after watching re-runs of Hawaii 5-0 with my mom.

What's there to watch about it? I mean, there was an America's Next Top Model marathon on. For my money it doesn't get any better than watching Tyra Banks chew out some skinny bitches who "just don't have the passion for modeling" that she does. And Cassie is bulimic? Reality TV gold.

The thing is, I was SO WRONG.
This thing was brimming with drama and intensity.

First of all, I think the whole Brady Quinn thing was grossly mishandled. You could see the discomfort building up. Not drafted in the top 3? Okay, still calm, not time to panic. Jobbed by Miami? Your poker face is starting to betray you, Brayden.

Why wasn't someone milking that for all it was worth?

Whoever left Suzy Kolber in charge of asking the tough questions must have been on drugs. She was creaming her pants just knowing she got to sit as near to Quinn as she did. As the picks got higher and higher, she inched closer and closer.

"Aw, honey, it's okay... how about you ditch your slampiece Lindy and get with a real woman?"

ANYWAY, all she did was ask him how he felt about not yet being drafted, and when he replied with the athlete stock answer of not really saying anything with as many words as possible, she let him get away with it. You know even though he pretended not to be super pissed, he was. Who wouldn't be?

Character was a huge theme this year. Why not say "So, you're getting passed up by a lot of teams here. What do you think is wrong with you?" Better yet, ask JaMarcus Russell why HE thinks no one's drafting Quinn. Or, ask his girlfriend if she's going to leave him now that he's not a top ten pick.

This problem would have been solved if they'd had Steve Young doing the interviews. He's not afraid to piss someone off. He was about to drop kick the commentator who looked like Matthew Perry after he called him out on that "You don't want to have to be the next Dan Marino..." argument.

"You had to follow Joe Montana."

"Oh, did I, Chandler?" Bitchslap.

You could cut the tension surrounding that desk with a knife. You talk badass ex-quarterbacks, you talk Steve Young.

The closest they got to hard-hitting journalism was asking him if he was going to stay even though he was getting passed. What was he going to do, walk out of the Draft? You don't do that. He was staying, even if he had to stay until Sunday. Eleven-thirty tomorrow evening, he's passed out on the couch, shirt all untucked and rocking day-old-shave stubble, hair greasier than it was today (IF POSSIBLE), half-eaten KFC family bucket on his lap when he hears his name.

"Now, with the 297th pick in the 2007 NFL Draft, the recently-annexed Pittsburgh Passion select quarterback Brady Quinn from Notre Dame."


The best part is he kept saying "There's nothing I can do. It's not my pick."

Yeah, because you're not Eli Manning.

And how about the Jets snaking Darelle Revis from us with 6 minutes left on the clock? I guess people saw that one coming, but I didn't. That was the exact moment I fell in love with the Draft.

Also, if the fans of the team that just drafted you boo when the pick is announced, you're in for a long haul. I can't remember who it was but I want to say it was Green Bay. Have a fun career, buddy.

Case in point, I take back all the whining I did about Draft weekend. Today was amazing, only to be topped by the fact that when I got home, I found out that the old Lothrop What What episodes are now on YouTube. Life is sweet.

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