I [HEART] THE NFL DRAFT

Most folks like me like the NFL Draft. I’ll admit it. I love it. Pure, unadulterated love. I think I fell for the draft when I was about 12, maybe even younger. I’m not even sure if it was legal at the time. But even now, at 31, I’m still not over it.

Sure, it’s somewhat juvenile and pathetic, but I don’t give a rat’s ass. The glorious thing about the NFL Draft is that everyone thinks they know everything, but nobody really knows nothin‘ – which all makes for very entertaining television, particularly when you consider it’s just a dude standing in front of a mic reading names.

Calm down draft junkies, I realize there’s more to it than Goodell uttering a name and some disproportionately large man throwing on a cap and jersey. I, for one, understand. I’m the guy still watching highlights in the sixth round of day two proclaiming: “Seriously, he’s going to be goood.” I’m the one who can’t get enough of the shots of the guy on the phone with his agent as he sits alongside 35 of his closest relatives crammed into a living room. It’s all fabulous.

And the intrigue lies in the very unpredictability of it all. The fabulous ridiculousness of looking at a guy from a school you may never have heard of, who played against teams and other players who might not even be any good, but whose sheer athleticism makes them so tantalizing that you can’t help be curious. Oh yes, and pretending you have any idea how their skills might translate to the NFL.

The biggest fear of the teams, coaches, scouts and GMs is that those to whom they stake millions of dollars, not to mention the hopes of their fan bases and cities, will ultimately be tagged with the worst four-letter word in the English language –
B-U-S-T. Avoiding the dreaded bust is why NFL talent evaluators log thousands of miles each year traveling to colleges across the country. It’s why hours upon hours are spent reviewing film, looking at everything from a player’s first step to their first answer to an interview question. It’s the reason the draft board, Mel Kiper, Todd McShay, upside potential, value pick, stretch, franchise quarterback and so many more ridculous people and terms now exist as part of our sporting vernacular.

Despite all the effort that will go towards a handful of picks this Saturday and Sunday, the draft is still an imperfect science, as will always be the case when anyone is trying to accurately analyze 20 and 21-year old kids coming out of college. What’s almost as appealing to me about the draft is looking back on team’s selections with the perspective of years removed. Like most draft diehards, I can immediately recall those players whose names were called and offered so much promise, only to fail, as well as those I scoffed or rolled my eyes at who later became foundations for a franchise.

Yet, it’s the busts, potential busts, debatable and fear of the busts, that seem to offer the greatest drama. For every Peyton Manning, there’s a Ryan Leaf, Akili Smith, David Klinger and Andre Ware. For every Marshal Faulk, there’s a Blair Thomas and a KiJana Carter. For every Orlando Pace and Jonathan Ogden, there’s a Tony Mandarich (who gets a bit too much of a bad rap) and Robert Gallery. A simple stroll through the past 20 years, reveals a plethora of high first-rounders picks whose NFL careers failed to live up to expecations, from Steve Emtman to Dan Wilkinson…Heath Shuler to Mike Mamula…Lawrence Phillips to Courtney Brown…Peter Warrick to Charles Rogers.

And that’s the wonder and beauty of the NFL Draft. I, for one, will be on the edge of my seat come Saturday hoping that my beloved J-E-T-S avoid another Kyle Brady or Johnny Lam-Jones or Blair Thomas or Johnny Mitchell moment (yes, we could go on). We shall see…