The Emperor Has No Clothes

Ray Gustini is rapidly becoming one of my core 'must read' columnists. A regular at NFP he often has a good way of cutting to the core of things in enlightening ways. Enough with the superlatives. His column from today I find particularly embarrassing, because I am That Guy.

Premise No. 1: Nothing really happens at the NFL Draft — This is true. While the networks covering the draft increasingly view the event as an ideal place to unveil the latest designs in arbitrary, distracting on-screen graphics, the fact remains that this is essentially just two days of calling out the names of people you’ve never heard of.

Well now, the entire draft instantly denuded and my three month football raison d'être eviscerated.

Indeed, why do we care about the draft? Not that the draft isn't important or that football people shouldn't care about the draft, but does it really matter so much which guy who I've never heard of prior to a couple months ago - or maybe never - my team picks on Sunday? It's really just an entry in our voracious national appetite for All Things NFL, our country's 11 month professional sport. I can't imagine how pissed the NBA and NHL are that one of their prime playoff weekends has been stolen from them, so that middle-aged weekend warriors can ignore yardwork for 36 hours of Big Boards and highlights and instant (and instantly forgotten) analysis by Big Haired Television types. The NFL added insult to injury this year, pushing the Saturday start back to prime time, relegating basketball and hockey eyeballs to the early games that no one but the die-hards watch anyway.

Heck with it. I think I will leave my television off all weekend. Temps in the 80s all three days, I have plenty of winter clean-up and spring prep to do. The draft can just proceed without me.

Natch. Maybe it can't.