Don't get me wrong: I will cherish the '03 draft, and not only for the names Boss Bailey, Nnamdi Asomugha and Vishante Shiancoe. There was also that moment when commissioner Paul Tagliabue walked gravely to the podium to announce Green Bay's first pick: A fan in the balcony broke the cathedral-like silence, at 120 decibels, with " Packers suck," and Tags seemed simultaneously to flinch and grimace, Lee Harvey Oswald-style.
Nor will I soon forget the 40-odd promos for Jim Rome's new show, Rome Is Burning, a title that made me think, each time I heard it: He really should see a urologist.
Finally, I will forever hold dear the realization—late Saturday night, after three rounds and 600 consecutive minutes of viewing, the televisual equivalent of jury duty—that the 2003 NFL draft was over. Or rather, half over. Less than half over, truth be told.
There were four more rounds on Sunday.