A 50-inch screen TV dominated the center of the room. The coffee table was covered with chips, pretzels, jalapenos, nuts, bean dip, popcorn, and a huge bowl of M&M’s. There was an ice chest full of Keystone Beer and I could feel the physical presence of testosterone.
I noticed a bottle being passed around, and was chagrined to find it was a bottle of Bean-O. I politely turned it down when it came my way. I did not turn away the shot of Mylanta, however.
Every year I try to find some modicum of enthusiasm for this tedious event. I really do try to find a way to enjoy it as I realize that watching the draft is considered a rite of passage for die-hard football fan.
My male counterparts are completely into the sideshow and act as if they are watching the playoffs. Still there is really no way to manufacture drama for a format that simply screams “BORING.”
I am amazed that the NFL hasn’t found a way to get some barely clothed females on the telecast as “round girls.” Since the NFL is in its off-season, the cheerleaders should be available. Every fifteen minutes they could have a cheerleader representing the team on the clock come up and flash a smile while walking in circles holding a big clock while the likes of Mel Kiper Jr., Chris Berman, Bill Romanowski, and Dennis Green drone on and on. They could also use some sound effects much like 60 Minutes does, with a tick tock effect for added drama. Even I could get behind this idea; it seems a lot better than watching these guys for 550 hours.
The MC, Paul Tagliabue, is the real “Mr. Irrelevant” in the NFL draft. Maybe the NFL should consider giving Dennis Miller another shot as an NFL announcer; he could certainly add spice to this show with a few well-placed f-bombs and it would definitely add some color to this deathwatch.
The whole fifteen minute (the Bengals are on the clock) is so much BS. Didn’t we already know that they had signed Carson Palmer? Who were they trying to fool with that anti-climatic announcement?
And tell me why it takes fifteen minutes for each team to make a pick. It’s not as if each team hasn’t analyzed and reanalyzed every player, every possibility, and every conceivable trade for weeks before, perhaps months before the actual draft. But can anyone explain how it is that the Vikings missed their turn? Was someone in the John? Oh those Purple Men, they sure know how to screw things up, real geniuses those guys.
It was, at least, a unique moment and I wouldn’t mind seeing that happen more often.
Otherwise it’s all SOP, standard operating procedure, and mind numbing. If folks think baseball is too long and boring, then they need to sit through the NFL draft as a point of reference.
After sitting through 600 consecutive minutes of agony and at minimum 400 promos for Jim Rome’s new show, eating a bag or two of chips, and thereby elevating my cholesterol level to approximately 600, drinking a bottle of Napa Valley Merlot, followed by a six pack beer chaser, and shifting between my left cheek and my right cheek every twenty minutes to avoid numbness and blood clots I made a pledge that I would never again miss the gals’ trip to the fat farm.
The next day I jumped in my car, drove up the coast at seventy miles an hours hoping to join my pals in time for a massage, a steam batch and a little female bonding.
I guess I failed to pass the test but this is one rite of passage I will happily do without.
By Ivette Ricco
