You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.™
The NFL draft.
Andrew Luck at 1.
RG3 at 2.
And on and on and on.
You probably can’t name half the guys in the first round. I’m almost certain you can’t name any of the guys in rounds 2-7.
I am excited that my Dallas Cowboys moved up to #6 to grab the best cornerback in the draft.
Everyone wants to know how their team did.
If you’re a Browns fan, are you happy? Cleveland moved up one spot, and gave away a lot of future draft picks to grab an Alabama running back they probably would have got had they not moved up at all.
The NFL Draft: It is a 3 day labor of love. It’s Mel’s top picks and It’s Draft Day winners and losers and It’s Chris Berman’s non stop banter about inside line backers and forty times at the combine.
I try not to watch but somehow my TV keeps gravitating to ESPN. It’s like my Panasonic has a mind of its own.
I’m sitting on the couch, like a good boy, trying to read Hamlet and the Tell Tale Heart, and suddenly I look up and there it is; the NFL Draft.
“Hey how’d that get there,” I muse to myself.
Then I look down, and there in my hand, like a Pastrami sandwich in Rosie O’Donnel’s palm, I see the culprit.
It’s the clicker, somehow, subconsciously it has pushed 206 on directv and BAM.
DRAFT coverage.
Watch CSPAN dude.
I begin to change the channel and then…
The flashy graphics and the draft music sound and another chant from the gallery and
OK, maybe I’ll just watch for a few minutes.
5 minutes turns into 10 minutes.
Come on dude, turn it off I say to myself.
Right after this report on the guy’s forty time, I say to myself.
Suddenly 20 minutes is 40 minutes.
That’s when I realize I’m like a drug addict who can’t say no.
I watch the draft when I should be cutting the lawn. I watch the draft when I should be working out.
It’s visual crack. I light up like a fiend. I inhale the plasma and let it sink into the happy place in my brain.
Watching Chris Berman holler about nickel coverages gives me that immediate fix that I need.
I watch this visual circus for days. It’s like watching a singing comic book. I am bemused, and cannot look away.
Round four is accentuated by regular fans getting to announce their teams’ pick. I find this fascinating. Old ladies. Hot babes. Dudes wearing sweater vests. I wish I was one of these people. How sad is that. I am a draft crack head.
Rounds 5-7 are a wasteland of who and what? Still I mainline the juice and let it warm my insides.
With the 200th pick in the 2012 NFL draft, the Tampa Buccaneers select Jimmy Dean, Sausage patty, Farmville USA.
I don’t even care anymore. I am naked, wearing an over coat, staggering in the street panhandling for money.
“Buy some Chicklet gum Mr?”
“I’ll wash your car if you let me watch the draft.”
I believe that drool is rubber banding from my lips. I am a sorry ass bastard.
Honestly, I am not sure what I am addicted to. It is really rather boring. It’s actually monotonous. OK, there, I said it.
Monotonous like painting a room white. Then painting the next room white. Then painting the next room white. After a while, you just want to see another shade of gray.
But in round 7 I feel my juices flowing once again. ESPN announcers hardly mention the selections now. Pick 240 is in. Some guy from some place. Pick 241 is in. Some other guy from some other place. Who cares anymore?
But pick 253 is coming. Pick 253 is the final pick in the 2012 draft which started on Thursday night.
Pick 253 is exciting, it’s special, because the NFL has made it exciting and special. It is affectionately dubbed Mr. Irrelevant.
Mr. Irrelevant is the last player drafted. ESPN Draft Gurus Mel Kiper and Todd McShay are actually arguing about who will be Mr. Irrelevant.
You know you have no life when an argument breaks out over who is more irrelevant.
When McShay’s pick is taken at 248, he is legitimately pissed. Mel Kiper laughs.
And with the 253 pick of the 2012 NFL draft, the Indianapolis Colts select Chandler Harnish. Quarterback Northern Illinois University.
And the draft ends the way it begins with Indianapolis choosing a quarterback.
A little ironic.
The title of Mr. Irrelevant is a joke. The football player, Chandler Harnish is hardly a joke. He accounted for 4500 yards for his team this year. The average fan might not know who Harnish is, but the scouts do. He deserves to be drafted. He doesn’t deserve a moniker like Mr. Irrelevant.
Don’t be surprised if the 253rd pick gives the number one pick a run for his money somewhere down the line.
And now it is over, and I am Jonsing for a little draft activity.
I should pay bills but instead I think I will put on the NFL channel for a while.
It’s day 6.
The draft ended Saturday.
I still need more.
And that is crazy.™