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10:37 a.m. - April 30, 2007
I Wasn't Selected...Sigh...
Well, for the 20th consecutive time, my name was not chosen at the NFL draft.

Shocked, shocked I am that the National Football League would pass up a commodity as valuable as me.

I had realistic expectations. I mean, I let Katie watch her programs until about 1:30 or so on Saturday and then I started to watch the first round of the draft. I didn’t think I’d be picked that early, but you never know. Of course, ESPN didn’t think I’d be picked that early, nor did the NFL Network, since I had no cameramen in my house Saturday.

After a while, I let Katie back on the TV, but I made sure I TiVoed the draft. I not only wanted to see who the Colts picked in the first round, and also where Brady Quinn ultimately wound up, but I also had a faint glimmer that I would hear NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell say, “With the 29th pick of the 2007 NFL Draft, the Baltimore Ravens select: SmedIndy, quarterback, Wabash College.”

Alas, no such luck.

Since I wasn’t picked in the first round on Saturday, I flipped off the TV and made dinner for the girls, and gave them baths and put them to bed. I thought my time was better served doing that and then futzing with my iTunes instead of watching the draft. They knew my number (I’m in the book) and could have easily called me if I was drafted.

I awoke Sunday, and I was still unemployed in the NFL. Ah well. There were things to do. We got the girls to Sunday school and church, and then I stayed behind to finish the audit of the books. Liz took Katie to her friend Basim’s house, and when she came back I went out to mow the lawn. (If I didn’t, we’d have needed a herd o’ goats). I’m sure that if I was selected Liz would have run out and told me.

After I finished the lawn I clicked onto ESPN to see the draft ticker, and to see if they just missed calling my name when I was out finishing in the yard. Nope. I did hear Suzy Kolber talking about how JaMarcus Russell can throw the go route, and I realized that Liz wouldn’t know a go route from a tuna-fish sandwich. But of course, Liz has many other fine qualities which are much more impressive.

The rest of the day came and went and I was not selected at all. Not even as Mr. Irrelevant – the last player chosen in the draft. Ramzee Robinson from Alabama had that distinction, and what does he have that I don’t have? Well, he runs a 4.5 40-yard dash, has great hands and is a good cover cornerback.

But the downside is he has to play for the Lions!

So yet again I wasn’t picked in the draft. Ah, well. You see, though, I think I could be an outstanding third string quarterback for an NFL team, though. Even though I have not played organized football since sixth grade, I could help an NFL franchise.

1. It wouldn’t take me long to learn an offense.
2. The last time I played quarterback in touch football I was pretty darn accurate and even looked off of receivers and ran through my proper progressions. I also had a nice form in throwing the ball. Yeah, it was a Nerf football, but so what?
3. I look good in a baseball hat.
4. I wouldn’t mind wearing a headset.
5. My daughter is a goal scorer in soccer now. So I know how to get the most out of other athletes. (Click back one for the story of the two goals).

Sadly, though, NFL teams tend to want quarterbacks who are taller than I am, in better shape than I am, and about 20 years younger than I am currently. In 1988, they just wanted players that were in better shape and could actually play the game. Picky, picky.

Now, in my day, I think I could have been a fine NBA player in garbage time minutes. I’d play the last five minutes of blowouts so your actual players wouldn’t get hurt. Same for baseball – I would have gladly pitched the last couple of innings in a blowout to save the arms of the rest of the team.

No one took me up on that offer, though, and at 41 I’d be totally gassed playing a few minutes of an NBA game, and my shoulder makes all kinds of go-funny noises when I throw, so baseball would be out.

Alas, not meant to be.

But am I bitter that I never got to hear the talking heads on ESPN yell at each other about my prowess on the football field?

Nah, not really.

You see, I’ll tell you a secret…

I’d be scared to death that some 6’6 340 lb. defensive lineman would break me in two when he high-fived me.

Yet if chosen in the draft, I would have served. But only for the paycheck, you know. Because I’m a greedy self-serving athlete like that.



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