NFL Draft: Who Cares About the Green Room?

You know what’s not compelling television? Keeping a camera on Brady Quinn as he slowly starts to crack, and listening to commentators debate how far he’ll fall.

You know what is compelling television? Watching the Cleveland Browns scramble to figure out a way to draft Quinn before someone else gets to him. 

That’s right, I want cameras in the War Rooms. I want to see teams sit in stunned silence, and then burst out laughing when Roger Goodell announces that with the ninth overall pick, the Miami Dolphins select Ted Ginn, Jr.

Except the New Orleans Saints, who react in a panic because their draft board has just been blown up and they don’t know who they’re going to pick.  I can see it now:

SEAN PAYTON: “SHIT!” 

TOM BENSON stares at MICKEY LOOMIS who, in turn, is staring hollowly at Payton. 

BENSON: “What?  What is it?” 

LOOMIS (not looking at Benson): “Nothing.  It’s nothing, Tom.”  Payton mouths the words “what now?” to Loomis. 

LOOMIS:  Quick, just name a different receiver! 

PAYTON:  Uh...Uh...MEACHEM!!

JONES (arrogant southern drawl):  I make you a counter-proposal. I’ll agree to your terms if...IF...in addition to your second-round selection this year, you hand over to me your first-round selection in next year’s draft.

SAVAGE:  Next year’s draft?  What’s that?

JONES (disdainful):  Don’t insult my intelligence, Savage. 

SAVAGE:  Give me some time to put the package together. 

JONES (self-satisfied):  I give you sixty seconds, Phil. 

(A minute passes) 

JONES: Phil! 

SAVAGE: We’re finding it.

JONES: PHIL!!

SAVAGE:  Please, please—you've got to give us time—The...the bridge is smashed, the computers inoperative... 

JONES:  Time is a luxury you don’t have, Phil. 

Tell me you wouldn’t rather watch that than Brady Quinn trying not to cry.