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NFL Draft Day is like Christmas for some fans

For some people, they can't wait to see what new toys they have to play with for the football holiday in April.


(Preface: This poem was longer than I remembered.)

T'was the night before NFL Draft Day and all through the house,

The Arizona Cardinals were hoping to pick BPA or need, just not a louse.

The 120 draft board had been compiled with everyone with care,

In hopes that "that guy"- still would be there.

The front office was nestled all snug in their "war room",

While visions of Pro Bowls replaced the Cody Brown gloom.

And Arians in his Kangol and Keim without his,

Had just settled their brains on a secretive list.

When out from the podium there rose such a clatter,

Keim sprang from the AZ table to see what was the matter.

Away to the NFL helmet phone he flew like a flash,

He tore an a**hole to Scheftler for throwing intel like trash.

The Dolphins had traded up with the Browns,

Taking the last tackle.

Keim swallowed hard,

Surely, he was hackled.

When what does his optioning eyes appear?

But an All-American lineman that had a fairly good year.

While not a popular selection yet athletic and quick.

Keim knew in a moment, it was a guard he must pick.

" Now Ansah, now Jones. Now Star, now Barkley he assumed,

To the bottom of the first round, to the wait in the green room.

Now fall, fall, fall, y'all to the point when Kiper says "whom"?

But now Keim wondered was this all just a dream,

Was it the top of the cake, was it the cream?

And then while tinkling, Keim heard a spoof, restroom trade for Dockett, must be a goof.

But as Keim was washing his hands and turning around,

Down from the furthest stall Roger Goodell made a sound.

He was dressed in Target's finest from head to foot,

Suit obviously dry-cleaned, hair well put.

A bundle of index cards he kept in his hand,

Not knowing the pronounciations, the phonetic explanation was preplanned.

His eyes were squinty, his energy probably metabolic,

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like an alcoholic.

His smirk, little mouth was drawn up like a bow.

If he can pussify this league, he thought,

The lawsuits away will go.

The trade card of a team he held tight in his teeth.

And the promise with it, suggested it could be a beast.

He had that a devilish face and flashed that devilish smile,

That suggested he when telling a truth not worth a country mile.

He spoke not a word but went straight to work.

Strolled to the podium and tried hard to not be a jerk.

Then clearing his throat and blowing his nose,

He read the draft card and the anticipation rose....

He then announced the Cardinals had ridden out of time,

Gave no telling clue, gave no reason why.

But I heard exclaim as the evening started late,

"Arizona forfeits 7th, Buffalo is on the clock at selection 8".