Dreaded Draft Day
“After the first round, there’s almost no predictive value on how a college-boy draft pick will perform in the much tougher, faster, bigger, stronger, and more complex NFL.”
I love pro football. And, I enjoyed the movie Draft Day.
But there’s no way I’m getting all worked up about the Chicago Bears’ third-round draft pick when they end up “shocking” Mel Kiper (is he really still around?) by taking a defensive back from Iowa State instead of the highly-touted SEC offensive lineman from Auburn. Who gives a fuck?
The draft is mostly a crapshoot anyway. No one knows which team ends up with boxcars and snake eyes. After the first round, there’s almost no predictive value on how a college-boy draft pick will perform in the much tougher, faster, bigger, stronger, and more complex NFL. Even top first-round draft picks go bust as often as they become NFL stars.
I totally get the intense human drama of the NFL Draft, especially for those who, at least for a day, get a trip top Oz and become reality TV stars. These hard-working young men, mostly from lower-class economic backgrounds and remote areas all over the country have just hit their personal lottery. Finally, it’s payday! Their families get to enjoy the biggest moment of their lives and celebrate. Hooray for them. Still, it’s funny to watch the forced smiles on the faces of dreamers who are in some cases witnessing *the end* of their pro careers before they even begin. “And with their first pick in the draft, the Houston Texans select…….(every college kid in America holds his breath and silently thinks — PLEASE, NOT ME!).”
Combines, Wonderlick Tests, mock drafts, draft grades, hecklers, and drunken fan idiots hooping and hollering over an outside linebacker going to the Browns makes the whole draft circus more like an episode of “The Jerry Springer Show” (R.I.P., Jerry). The only missing drama is the flying chair, and a few of those probably get tossed by agents off-camera. In this reality show, Springer is played by the highest-paid puppet in America, Roger Goodell, the $60 million ringmaster who spends half of his time in front of the cameras stroking this year’s new “corporate partners” and the other half of his time hugging freshly-minted 22-year-old multimillionaires in Zoot suits.
A few years ago, the most cringeworthy moment from the draft happened when Goodell’s very first announcement just before the top pick was telling millions of hard-core NFL fans the league has a “new partner” for its Thursday Night Football package, which was that struggling company called Amazon. Yeah, now we all have to pay MORE MONEY and subscribe to yet another TV platform to watch the NFL on television. Just great, let’s all fork over another $100 a season just to watch a box lunch of shitty games with bad teams. The clueless crowd, oblivious to being told this new corporate “partnership” basically fucks every football fan in America in the ass, cheered the announcement before being baited into anticipation of who the Texans would pick first in the draft.
Shut it off. It’s all too much.
