Guest Post – 2008 NFL Draft Analysis: Geezy Style

BZDS is once again lucky to host a guest post, this time from the always capricious, never dull, GeeZy.  With years of relevant experience within the (national football) league, as well as trying to hook up with girls way out of his league, the petulant Texan puts on blast how he really feels about the NFL draft and its ramifications on us as fans, and on the kids about to get paid stupid money by pro organizations.  So go on, take a bite of what he’s cooked up.  You just might like it…

Can you smell it?  The sweet scent of Mel Kiper Jr.’s hair care products wafting through the air can only mean one thing.  That’s right; it’s time for the National Football League’s Annual Selection Meeting, or as it’s more colloquially known…The NFL Draft.  That heartwarming time of year in which scores of privileged “student-athletes” across the country formally drop the prefix from their titles and join the elite ranks of American professionals who are fortunate enough to play the game of football for a living.  And for a group of kids that have spent the past 2-4 years being thoroughly exploited by their respective universities, conferences and the NCAA, today is their big payoff. 

Being that the average NFL career is between 3 and 5 years, history dictates that the vast majority of these kids (who may or may not have utilized any of the free education they’ve been provided) will spend the next 1-5 years busting their asses, scratching and clawing for limited roster spots and jumping from camp to camp, only to find themselves out of the league sooner rather than later.   While the rewards of the life of the pro athlete may be high, the business of the game is unforgiving.       

 Another small percentage of draftees will spend the next 3-15 years contributing anywhere from marginally to considerably around the league.  And a precious few will emerge into Pro Bowlers, franchise players and Hall of Famers.  Essentially, the draft is a league-wide game of craps that uses semi-grown barbarian men instead of cubed thermoset plastic.  And to think, the morales of entire metropolitan areas hinge on the eventual successes and failures of these 20-22 year-old kids.  Kind of a lot of pressure if you think about it.

 But that’s what makes the draft of any sport so intriguing.  You never know.  But the thing that separates the NFL draft from those of the other sports is this: a large portion of the viewing public has already formed a connection with a large portion of the athletes.  For not only have we enjoyed watching the majority of these kids perform as collegiate athletes over the past 2-4 years, but in many cases, given the recent boom in recruiting coverage, we’ve had the opportunity to follow said athlete throughout his high school career as well.  I can honestly say that I’ve followed the career of Adrian Peterson since the kid was a sophomore in high school.  Before AD ever signed his letter of intent to play for OU, I could tell you that his mother is a former sprinter for the University of Houston, that his father was locked up for pushing weight and that his brother was killed by a drunk driver while riding his bike as a kid.  Hell I probably coulda told you his favorite flavor of ice cream.   But by the time the Vikings selected The Machine from Palestine with the 7^th pick of the ‘07 draft, it already felt like I knew AD personally.  Now, he remains as one of my favorite athletes on the planet, and he’s not even a year removed from his rookie season.  For the most part, you’d be hard pressed to find many similar instances in any other sport.

 

 

The NBA draft has only two rounds and until recently, consisted mostly of not-yet-ready, poorly advised high school students barely a month removed from their senior proms and immensely overrated Europeans whose draft stocks are based almost solely on performances vs. severely inferior competition and workouts vs. inanimate objects.  In baseball, there are about 637 rounds and no one’s ever heard of any of the players, most of whom never even end up signing with the team that drafted them anyway.  And frankly, as much as I love both soccer and hockey, let’s be honest…no one gives a shit about the MLS or NHL drafts. 

 

 

 

Sooooo, as an admitted football junkie, you can understand why this seemingly trivial day in late April is one of my favorite days of the year.  But the real point of this post is to discuss one of the more disturbing developing subplots of the draft that I’ve observed over the past few years.  And it’s driving me fucking nuts. 

What the fuck is with the media’s fawning obsession over this “last guy in the green room” bullshit?  You know what I’m talking about.  It all started with Aaron Rodgers in 2005 and continued this year with Brian Brohm (who incredulously, was taken about 30 spots too late).  Although Brohm wasn’t physically “in the green room,” the running theme of the coverage still pertained. Quick story… I was privileged enough to attend the 2006 NFL Draft as a hired muse for the New York Jets.  To refresh your memory, this was the infamous Mario Williams/Reggie Bush/Vince Young/Matt Leinart draft.   I’m sitting in a room full of the best and brightest writers, reporters and NFL media relations people in the business.  As the draft wore on, player after player made their way from the green room up to the podium to shake hands with the Commissioner as their name got called.  Well as you may remember, Matt Leinart, the charismatic, stubble-ridden, heartthrob of a quarterback from USC was the last among those present at the draft to be selected, thus leaving him alone in the green room for a solid hour.  As team after team passed on the aesthetically pleasing QB, cameras repeatedly kept cutting to an anxious-looking Leinart as he fell all the way to *GASP* the 10^th pick.  And for the entire duration of this “excruciatingly agonizing” hour, and with every Leinart cutaway, I had to endure this non-stop slew of blasphemous commentary…  

“Poor guy.” 

“Aww, I feel so sorry for him.”  

“Look at him, he looks so sad.”  

“Poor thing.” 

“That’s gotta be so tough.”  

“I hope he gets picked soon.”  

“Things not working out quite as Leinart had planned today.”   “How do you deal with something like this?”

Jeezus, you would’ve thought the guy’s dick fell off on live TV, the way they were talking. Now…keep in mind, it wasn’t like I was watching the draft from the fucking ‘SC Delta Gamma house.  This was a collection of (supposedly) the most educated football people in the land.  The same media members who take every opportunity they can to berate, bemoan or criticize almost anybody with any kind of wealth and privilege. 

“Poor Guy.”  Poor Guy??    Give me a fucking break.  This is the same guy who drinks titty milk in his cereal for breakfast and wipes his ass with hundred dollar bills.  And you feel sorry for him?  Fuck that.  Feel sorry for me.  I’m the one making minimum wage who paid for my own flight to get here.  I’m the one who hasn’t been laid in 6 months unless you count the time my dog tried to lick my ballsack while I was getting out of the shower the other day.  I’m the one who owes my bookie my next 3 paychecks and I’m the one who’s living out of a pizza box down on 3^rd street promenade.

 

 

 Alright I made some of that up.  But you get my point.  You’ve got to be fuckin kidding me, poor guy.  He gets to move to one of the most attractive cities in America, where the weather is beautiful and hordes of gorgeous, horny women flow through the streets like the salmon of Capistrano. 

So now he’s only gonna make $51 million instead of $54 million.  (btw, I don’t know the exact figures but that HAS to be the richest contract for a #10 pick in league history.  Compare Leinart’s deal to the 2006 #10 pick, Houston’s Amobi Okoye whose rookie contract was worth a possible $17.6 million. Granted, a 1^st-round QB typically earns more than a 1 ^st-round DT, but still…that’s a gap of over $30 million.  Hell, Alex Smith, fellow QB and the number ONE overall pick in ‘05 signed a deal worth $49.5 million.  And Leinart’s ONLY gonna make $51 mill.) 

 

Give me a second while I wipe me tears of sympathy.    Boo fuckin’ hoo.  The 2 biggest concerns on Leinart’s mind at that point were, A) figuring out how to fold a wallet fulla hundos and B) narrowing down the 6,429 smoking hot broads banging down his door, begging to take part in naked string cheese parties with him and Nick Lachey.    

As I was driving home after watching day 1 of this year’s draft, I caught the news on the radio of this psychotic Austrian fuckstick who imprisoned his own daughter in his basement for 24 years, repeatedly sexually molested her and fathered 7 of his own grandkids in that span.  Well, the daughter/baby mama, now 42, was taken into protective custody along with the surviving children, who are now between the ages of five and 19.   Jeezus.  I couldn’t help but feel for those poor kids who have no choice but to make the valiant attempt to weave their way back into society at this point.  Could you even imagine?  Now that’s a “poor guy.”  Not Matt fuckin’ Leinart.  My God.