SOME THINGS I
don't get. Tip jars at the cash register of self-service cafes. Airport
security guards who point you to a one-hour line and say, "Enjoy."
People who sit for 10 hours watching the NFL draft when they can read about the
whole shebang in five minutes on the Internet as soon as it's over.
editor sniffed, "why don't you watch it and see what the fuss is all about?
Really break it down, like the bloggers do."
Me and my big
10:08 a.m. MDT
It's just me, my couch springs and my companion for the day, ESPN host Chris
Berman, who opens with, "For three quarters of a century Radio City Music
Hall has been the home of so much top-line entertainment, and in the National
Football League, it doesn't get any more top line than this." Right. What
is two on the 50 at the Super Bowl when you can see No. 1 pick JaMarcus Russell
hold up a jersey in a $3,000 suit and $20 baseball hat?
The Hall is jammed with yahoos in jerseys and face paint. But for the love of
humanity, why? There's no ball, no game, no score. Basically, they will sit
there for hours while virtually nothing happens. Isn't that what soccer's
Even worse, there are thousands of fans at Ford Field in Detroit waiting to see
who the Lions draft. "Get a life," I grumble. And then it hits me: I'm
sitting on my butt in Denver watching people in Detroit sit on their butts
watching people in New York sit on their butts. We are at gluteus maximus.
We're at the eighth pick, and Notre Dame's star quarterback, Brady Quinn, who
many thought would go in the top three, is still untaken. He's the only player
left in the green room, with nothing else around but empty tables and
half-eaten sandwiches. It looks like Bobby Brady's birthday party. The cameras
catch his every cringe. Poor s.o.b.
Surely the ninth-picking Miami Dolphins, who at this point will have to start
their accountant at QB, will jump on Quinn, right? Wrong. They take tiny,
fragile Ted Ginn Jr. (WR, Ohio State), whom they need like the homeless need
lava lamps. What's their drafting method, a Magic 8 Ball?
Note to self: The NFL draft is more boring than Amish porn.
I would rather stick forks in my ears than hear ESPN draft czar Mel Kiper's
voice again. Only the Quinn saga keeps me going. He still hasn't been taken,
and now he's gone from the green room. Maybe he's seeing if it's possible to
get a Ferrari deposit back.