I'll never understand this. The final pick in the NFL draft, the last man taken in the seventh round, every year is deemed "Mr. Irrelevant". This year it was a wide receiver taken by the Oakland Raiders named Kevin McMahan, out of the University of Maine. Somehow, this pick is always thought of some kind of joke. Granted, most of the seventh round picks are guys who'll never make it in the NFL. McMahan was the 255th player taken in the 2006 draft.
There were many hundreds and hundreds of guys who would have liked to have been picked but weren't. I guess they are even more "irrelevant," right? But every year a few of these free agents walks into an NFL camp and earns a job and makes a career for themselves. At least Kevin McMahan can tell his grandchildren one day that he was an NFL draft pick, even if he never plays one down in the league. I'll never get why the league makes such a joke out of the last man chosen every year.
Today is also the day when every football "brain surgeon" writer hands out their "report cards" on how every NFL team did in the draft. How in the world can they possibly do that when not one of these players has played a single down in the NFL? A good number of these highly touted players will be washouts, while some guys who were afterthoughts in the late rounds may turn out to be blue chippers. YOU JUST DON'T KNOW RIGHT NOW. So all these knuckleheads who insist on "grading" the draft 24 hours after it has happened are wasting their time. But they have to find something to write about.
Today would actually be a good time to judge the 2005 or 2004 draft, and see how each team fared with them. You need at least one year to come to a conclusion about how a team did.
The NFL Draft is now over, but is Chris Berman still jabbering away? He is the most overrated sports broadcaster in the business today (yes, even more than Tim McCarver). Watching any broadcast he's a part of makes me cringe, especially when he spouts off those insipid "nicknames." The broadcast is always about him and how cute and clever he can be. One writer once called him "a national treasure." Good grief.
A "treasure?" Can we bury him somewhere then, and put him out of our misery?