(Note: this is a running diary of Thursday night’s first round. We begin at 7 p.m. CT as the draft starts.)
And we’re off! I’m planted firmly in front of the TV with a Dewar’s on ice, and my fiancé is making dinner so I don’t have to move for at least the next three hours. She’s a keeper, that one.
After months of workouts, speculation, and endless mock drafts, the day is finally here. I’ve loved the NFL Draft since I was old enough to buy the annual Lindys Draft Guide with money I scrounged together from mowing lawns. It’s always been my favorite event on the NFL calendar. It’s evolved through the years, and moved from a Saturday/Sunday affair to a three-day jaunt, with the first round being held in primetime on Thursday. This is just fine with me; an event so grand is worthy of the evening lights.
Roger Goodell walks out to kick things off. The usual boos are audible, but mostly overcome by jubilant cheers from the fans in attendance. It almost seems as if the excitement about the event these people voluntarily paid to attend is outweighing their irrational disdain for a man they’ve never met. Odd.
Goodell: “The 2016 NFL Draft is now open. The Rams are on the clock.”