Crickets Heard at Nate Davis' Pro Day

Smarty Pants by Senior Writer Written on March 24, 2009
DETROIT - DECEMBER 05: Nate Davis #13 of the Ball State Cardinals reacts after fumbling the ball that was returned 92 yards for a touchdown by the Buffalo Bulls in the MAC Championship game on December 5, 2008 at Ford Field in Detroit, Michigan. (Photo by Gregory Shamus/Getty Images) (Photo by Gregory Shamus/Getty Images)

Ball State quarterback Nate Davis received a virtual groin shot by the NFL as pretty much nobody showed up for his pro day last Friday. Only the Indianapolis Colts, based a mere hour and change away from the Cardinal campus, actually made it to the workout.

"It was a total accident. We somehow got turned around and ended up in Muncie. Polian wanted to go to the Olive Garden. He loves that place," said an anonymous Colts exec.

Davis, who forfeited his final year of eligibility in order to enter the draft and has been criticized for having a "weird" (more of a technical term) grip on the ball, was able to see the glass as half full.

"There was no pressure. It was like practice. A very poorly attended spring practice..." said the snubbed Ball State signal caller.

"Just because I went to Ball State doesn't mean I wanted to be kicked in the balls. State," he sneered.

The writer tried to contact Coach Brady Hoke, but forgot he'd bailed out on the team before the Cardinals' bowl game and is no longer with the team. Obviously, he was unavailable for comment.

Davis' debacle reminded this writer of his own pro day six years ago.

It was March 24, 2003, in a cornfield in East Central Indiana. A slow-footed white male, who had skipped the NFL Combine so as not to hurt his draft stock, sent invitations to several NFL teams (and a couple of D-I programs who generally paid better than the Cincinnati Bengals) in hopes of duping, er, impressing a team. Any team.

His parents had contacted Subway and ordered a variety of party-size subs on white and wheat bread. His wife baked brownies. And his grandmother, though on a fixed income, purchased 36 two-liters. That's 72 liters of stone-cold refreshment.

The slow-footed white male had prepared a variety of drills. There was a game, er, drill called "tackle the man" a politically correct version of "smear the queer." There would be feats of strength and a pinochle tournament. The "say Uncle" kind.

Some cow tipping had also been arranged.

However, when 12 noon rolled around, neither the NFL, USC, or Florida had dared to show.

It was demoralizing.

One can only hope that Davis will handle the disappointment better than the writer of this article, who gave up football and is now writing questionable material for a variety of non-paying sports websites.

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written on March 24, 2009 Humor

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