I used to watch the NFL Draft as though each pick meant the future of the sport, America, and eternal life were on the line. I also used to have a lot more free time. More importantly, ESPN used to not start covering the draft 14 seconds after the Super Bowl.
I learned that being a draft expert means you find who is good in college, then make sure they’re not potheads, criminals or woman beaters. The last and most important step is figuring out if their arms are 1/4″ too short or if their ears aren’t aerodynamic or if one of their testicles is too large, which affects their burst in the 40 yard dash. In other words, find something to talk about, because they have to talk about the draft for six hours a day, seven days a week. Don’t worry, as long as you’re not the Browns, Bills, or Jaguars, you’ll be OK on draft day.
I played a year of college football, and by played, I mean I was on the team and wore a helmet. My draft card would have read as follows in 1998 – “Incredibly slow for someone not morbidly obese, he has to be a lineman. This hurts his draft stock, since he weighs 201. Only positive is stumpy midget legs and abnormally long torso give him lower than average center of gravity. Stamina not the best, since he smokes a half a pack a day. Health concerns stem from multiple concussions, which may explain unstable mental condition. Ideal position would be backup punter, if he could lift leg more than eight inches off ground. Draft grade F.”