Friday, April 27, 2012

Beer and football III — the draft

The beer: Blatant Session Ale
The commentary: It's become blatantly (ha!) obvious that I'm incapable of writing much outside of the comfort and weekly deadlines afforded by professional football, so I'll kick off what I'm calling the 2012 season (in place of a clumsy "2012/2013") with an attempt at live-blogging ESPN's coverage of the first round of the NFL draft. Why ESPN? Because I no longer get the NFL Network. The smallest violin… anyway, as picks twenty-seven and thirty-one approach, or if the Pats trade up, I'll mute the TV and listen to the PFW stream while Captain Beefheart (sprawling mess) and Led Zeppelin (clever idea, difficult execution) stare at me from the corner, dreaming the unfulfilled dreams of incomplete blog posts—and May's playlist is looming.

Hopefully this exercise makes up for my never-realized attempt at live-blogging 2007's made-for-the-Sci-Fi-Channel movie Ice Spiders, where I planned to offer up an alternate title of Eight-Legged Mountain of Death and make other humorous observations. That shit was going to be amazing. Alright, is everybody ready?

I'm glad I have tomorrow off. Nothing helps you get over the inevitable trading of two first-round picks for twenty years' worth of fifth-rounders like mowing the lawn, shopping for a sport coat and making chili.

ESPN is throwing all their correspondents at us. Rachel Nichols's eyes just burned a hole in the wall behind me. Ed Werder shops at the same rouge-heavy make-up boutique that Steve DeOssie frequents. Sal Paolantonio looks like the punchline of a no-arms-and-no-legs joke. More clowns are probably lingering somewhere but these are the three I saw, since I'm DVRing this and watching on a delay (recording started five minutes early).

Berman: "Are you ready for the draft?!?//!11?1 We are!!!!!111!1"

ESPN's opening segment assumes football fans are not actually fans of the game of football, but rather of the muscular sweatiness that is a side effect of said game. Correct!

With all the "Suck for Luck" talk last season, this is the first I'm seeing of the man. He looks like someone who throws firecrackers at stray dogs.

Jets fans are lazily booing Goodell as he opens the evening, but when when he says it's an exciting night "for you, the fans" it's all "Hey, we're fans! Yay!" Idiots.

Also the first I'm seeing of Robert Griffin III. Somehow I just knew he was black with that name.

Hey, a Bud Light commercial! Think I'll open my beer. Mmmm. I considered "Beer and football 2012 – the draught" for a title, and if I'd chosen an imperial something-or-other in place of this session beer I might have gotten hammered enough to like it. "Publish that shit!"

Our first trade! Hey Cleveland, it's a passing league. See you at home the next ten Januarys.

Berman: "Hold onto your hats!!11!1!1!!11!!1"

Seems like the first five picks are pretty much going in order of a lot of analysts' boards, even if the teams involved have shuffled a bit. I think "draft analyst" has to be the easiest job around: watch football, take some notes, comb your hair. And if you're wrong from time to time? Blame it on the GMs. What a life.

Werder looks like he's on a webcam. Tweak those RGB settings!

Mark Barron's off the board. His shirt is purple.

Dolphins coming up. I don't care what they do here, this team won't win four games. It's Tannehill. Kiper can't believe it. Tannehill looks like the type who would drive to New Hampshire and buy firecrackers for Luck to throw at dogs, then sit back and laugh it up.

Welcome to the show, Suzy Kolber! She shops at the orange-of-one-thousand-desert-suns make-up store.

I just spent too much time picking onions off of a frozen supreme pizza. You see, I like the pepperoni and the sausage and the peppers but not the onions. Anyway, I've got to start fast-forwarding.

What's the crowd yelling every time Goodell announces "With the nth pick in the 2012 NFL Draft…"? It sounds like "What??" Is Stone Cold in the house?

Jets on the clock! "With the sixteenth pick in the 2012 NFL draft—What??—the New York Jets select… Tim Tebow!" Actually it's Quinton Coples, and he's supposed to be pretty good. But can he catch passes? This team is a mess.

Coples's pre-recorded introduction to his highlight reel shows him slowly jabbing at his watch before turning away to the director as if to say "Was that good?" They couldn't end the clip one second earlier? I hope Solder can block this guy.

Adam Schefter is fired up. "We'll be back with more picks!1!!1!1" If he doesn't grab a ruler and challenge Chris Mortenson to whip it out in the next twenty minutes I'll put those onions back on my pizza.

Shea McClellin, a.k.a. "The Guy Every White-Trash South Boston Tweaker to Draft," just went to the Bears. I'm still behind on the broadcast so I figure the Stadium must be burnt halfway to the ground by now.

This is what I get for watching on delay and fast-forwarding through everything: suddenly the Pats are picking at twenty-one! Don't know the details yet and I'm not jumping ahead. Hopefully they traded the twenty-seventh and maybe a third-rounder and will stay put at thirty-one to grab a corner or safety. Let's see. Whoops, Berman says "New England up next, and Adam talked about that." Time to rewind.

Thanks, Adam, for spoiling who they're going to take (Syracuse's Chandler Jones) and providing no trade details whatsoever.

Ford is using Donovan and the Jeff Beck Group's "Goo Goo Barabajagal (Love Is Hot)" in this Taurus commercial. Shit, I'll buy one now. "Truth is molt-uhhhnnn." Make it two!

The PFW plan didn't work out. It's 11:30 and I'm barely halfway through this thing. Sorry boys, I'll listen at work next week.

Jets fans in the house are booing, so it must be time for the good guys to pick. "What??" Schefter was right. ESPN is evidently on about a ten-second delay because Goodell announced it, they flipped to Jones's living room and he and his family stood there doing nothing for a bit before eventually whooping it up. Jones is wearing a cadmium-green (I looked it up) shirt in his profile photo and I'm pumped—that's my favorite color for G. to wear. Deion Branch, you might have some competition!

The Browns just drafted a forty-five-year-old quarterback.

The Pittsburgh Towels take David DeCastro, who Berman calls "an old-fashioned guard." Translation: "an ugly white dude."

Wait, what? Pats picking again at twenty-five? I have no idea what's going on. Rewind. Traded up to grab some linebacker from Alabama, a team that could contend for an AFC wild-card spot. I love it, light a fucking spark under Mayo's ass. Still don't know what Belichick gave up for either of these picks, though—nice job, Bristol! If they have a second-rounder left then I'm fine.

The goddamn crawl says the Pats are still picking at thirty-one. That can't be right. Unfortunately I'm afraid to ask Google because I'm still an hour behind and I don't want to spoil anything.

Packers just took USC's Nick Perry. If the Pats are indeed still at thirty-one I bet they trade out now. That's what the Ravens just did.

Vikings reach for safety Harrison Smith. Lots of locals had him coming here in a few picks. OK, now the ticker says the Buccaneers are at thirty-one. How about some info?

Goodell is announcing the 49ers' pick, only the Bucs' pirate flag is on the massive display behind him. Smooth operation all around.

Alright, the Giants are up. That means this thing is almost over and I can look up what the hell I missed with my itchy fast-forward thumb: Patriots Twitter says it was number twenty-seven and a third to move up to twenty-one and Pro Football Talk says they got to twenty-five by giving up thirty-one and a fourth. Kiper likes the Jones and Hightower picks and we held onto both of tomorrow's second-rounders. I'm cool with that. Goodnight.