Is it weird that one of my favorite sporting events is the NFL Draft? It’s not really a sporting event in the traditional sense, there’s no real competition. No one is really competing to have Mel Kiper’s best draft grade. Certainly not Bill Tobin. Though it could be argued that Patriots coach Bill Belichick is always trying to collect the most draft picks in some sort of Hungry Hungry Hipposkind of way, snatching as many late rounders as he can, hoping he can foment another “steal of the draft” in the sixth round.
The NFL for its part has learned that its annual event at creating newly wealthy millionaires is less about the product, and more about the show. Like most televised sports, it’s about getting eyeballson the screen and buzz the web talking about each pick ad nauseum, and whether this pick will make an impact, will this runningback from the Big Ten be great, or will the Bears ever find a true superstar QB. (The answer is no by the way.)
For me and other sports fans and amateur GMs across the country, we get to second guess their picks, flout our superior intellect in knowing who is actually a difference-maker, and spend the following days at the water cooler asking ourselves “What were they thinking?” I’m looking at you, Raiders.
But this year, as with everything has been as this pandemic has raged unabated across the country, is completely different as to the sleek corporatized product the NFL has been wont to show on ESPN and their own network.
Truth be told, I really like seeing these kids walk across the stage, give a so-awkward-it’s-painful man-hug to the Commissioner Roger Goodell. At that precise moment, their childhood dreams are literally coming true and it’s impossible not to appreciate that, even with the kid who brought his grandmother’s portrait on stage, expletives included.
This year, we suffered through the buffering of webcams placed in prospect’s homes as each family sat around waiting for their progeny become richer than they could ever imagine. Well, unless you’re a Manning or a Matthews, where NFL stardom seems more like a birthright than a privilege.
I admit I loved seeing the real emotion on these kids’ faces at that moment. Their cell phone rings, they answer it anxiously, their hand on their brow at the shock of hearing good news, and a girlfriend or momma sits nearby hugging their arm so tight it break. Pride and financial security intermix in strange ways.
As an academic, it was difficult not to notice the disparity in income and wealth in these settings. I wondered how many families met at a location other than their home, in an effort to make for good television, posing in a nice house than the two bedroom apartment they actually live in.
It was also nerve wracking as some of these draft parties looked to be a bit too large considering the current outbreaks around the country. Most experts suggest keeping family functions and meetings under 10 people hoping to stem the tide of infections, but alas, it’s difficult to temper excitement at such massive news, and now because of the pandemic, the opportunity to appear on television as the athlete’s favorite uncle, friend, or neighbor who lives upstairs.
Part of me cheered inside a little every time I saw people in masks and shuddered when they were in too large a group.
Sad part is, I doubt we get to a point where any draft returns to the normality of the bright lights and huge pressure of Radio City Music Hall or MSG every again.