http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R34g4GS_Xj4

He gets it.

Thursday May 8th begins the NFL Draft. Not Saturday, or Tuesday for that matter. The NFL Draft, where eligible college stars get selected by NFL teams to become pro football stars, used to be held on Tuesdays in April before 1988. During high school on those Tuesdays, knowing I was a huge football fan…and I wasn’t SUCH a bad kid…my Mom would allow me to stay home from school to watch. This was WAY before the Internet, mobile devices and what not…so television was my only option. No one understood my addiction then, Mom, friends and football fanatics alike. I was the original football Draft-Nik…before Mel Kiper Jr. cornered the Aqua Net market.

Cable TV came to Valley Stream, NY in late 1979 and a fledgling sports channel came along with it. ESPN, 24 hour sports…and I was a teenager…and had more than a few hours to kill. I would watch their offerings of Australian Rules Football and Bass Fishing, switching back and forth with MTV (remember when the V meant Videos?). In 1980, this little known sports network asked the NFL if they could broadcast coverage of the NFL Draft live. Although the NFL did not believe it would be entertaining television, I disagreed. Wow, TV and the NFL Draft?!? I was like a kid in a candy store!…well, actually, I was. I had learned about the marriage of TV and the NFL Draft flipping through a copy of The New York Times (the Times? I said I wasn’t SUCH a bad kid).

It was hard to gather information back then. I would pester the candy store clerk, asking when the new football magazines might arrive. He put down his chomped cigar, looked me over and huffed…”It’s April son, don’tcha mean Basssse-ball”. In spite of such obstacles, I hunted and gathered. I would cut out any article relating to the draft from ANY newspaper, ANY magazine. I was the only hormonally challenged teenage boy who actually READ an article in Playboy since the April issue covered the draft…never sneaking a peek once at the centerfold. I was a kid on a mission.

As the draft approached, I would dissect each bit of information…on teams, players, past history, team’s tendencies to do stupid things (I am looking at you Cardinals) and any other anomalies I could find. I would place players to teams in the order they drafted…my own draft board at age 14. Over the next 8 years nobody knew what to make of me. I would even travel home from college for those draft Tuesdays – since backass Philadelphia didn’t get cable until 2002 or something like that. The draft was still a mere sideshow of the NFL season. It was during this time I should have tried harder to make passion my work. In 1984, I did attempt to start a sports show on Drexel University’s radio station…even do the overnight – hell, I was up drinking anyway. No good. Those pot-smoking hippies didn’t see a need…but I digress. I was too easily thwarted in my efforts, and I regret it.

In 1988 the NFL Draft changed forever. The draft was to start on a Saturday…an ALL day event. My narcissistic self originally thought this was done specifically for me. I was no longer in school and out in the working world… asking the boss to take off for draft day wouldn’t go over as easily as it did with Mom. This move boosted ratings beyond belief. Mel Kiper Jr. bought out Aqua Net. The NFL had found a way to make money in April. Every idiot rushed to become a Draft-Nik and they popped up everywhere…magazines, books, TV shows. The market became saturated with a clutter of draft incompetence…and the original Draft-Nik, me, was left behind. Today, there are still a few from 1980 that stand out in this field…and I somehow should have been among them. But that ship has sailed.

In 2010, the draft disappeared altogether for me… off into the horizon. That year the NFL changed to a 3 day draft, a 3 ring circus if you will, starting Thursday in primetime. The NFL Draft is now a billion dollar year round industry.

Gone are my Tuesdays off from school…my articles, my newspapers, my predictions…my being glued to the TV set for hours.

Thursday May 8th, I will be playing hockey instead.

Malsor and a some OLD Stillers on shore excursion – I think thats Jack Ham to his right

Recently a trial date has been set for the Flyer fan that repeatedly attacked a Ranger fan following the NHL’s 2012 Winter Classic.  It was an unprovoked, brutal attack in which an opposing team’s fan was beaten into unconsciousness.  Philadelphia has never been a stranger to unruly fans.  It came to a climatic point at Veteran’s Stadium in 1997 at a midseason game.  An Eagle season-ticket holder had his ankle broken when he came to the defense of a friend in a New York Giants jacket and was beaten by five men.

During that season, Eagle fans became so bad that the city set up an impromptu court in the bowels of the building.  It was a first for professional sports in this country.  In something that might resemble an episode of Night Court…you were arrested, charged, prosecuted, convicted and sentenced…all in around 22 minutes.  The court, now dubbed “Eagles Court”, forced even minor offenders to give up season tickets, pay a $400 fine and sit in jail for the rest of the game.

It was the fall of 1997 and football season was just beginning.  The Steelers had been in the thick of the playoffs for the last few seasons and I was optimistic of their SuperBowl chances.  When the schedule came out, the Steelers had a late November road game in Philadelphia.  I was unable to attend the last time they played there in 1991.  I was not going to miss it this time.

The Eagles were coming off a 10-6 season in 1996 where they had finished first in the division.  The fans were full of hope that 1997 would be THEIR year to win it all.  A slow start and a losing record created unrest among the fans.  An already unruly crowd turned worse.  Alcohol was banned after half time…that didn’t work.  Security was enhanced…no impact.  The city of Philadelphia needed a radical idea to turn the tide of trouble.  Their idea was to deal with the perpetrators with swift and immediate justice.  They would install a sanctioned courtroom right on the premises.  They chose Nov 23, 1997 to implement it.  It would be the same game against the Steelers I would be going to.

The city of Philadelphia was the focal point of the football world for that Sunday.  No other stadium had to go to such measures, not even Oakland’s famous Black Hole.  What should have been a source of shame seemed to turn to a badge of honor for these fans.  It was all over the sports radio talk shows and they seemed to even brag about it. This was never more obvious then when I took to the phones from the Stadium parking lot to become a first time caller, long time listener.  The subject was the “Eagles Court” and was it really necessary.  As I waited for my turn, I prepared to tell them a shortened version of my Eagle adventure that occurred some 10 years ago.  A situation, where the outcome of which, could have easily been the same as the one following the Winter Classic in 2012.

The Giants play in Philadelphia every year, but in 1986 it happened to fall on my 21st birthday.  I was able to score tickets from my college roommate whose Dad used to coach with the Eagles.  I invited a group of friend’s from high school to come down to Philly for the game.  The Giants pulled out to a big lead.  The Eagles tried to come back furiously in the second half.  Near the end of the game, the Eagles field goal kicker set up for what would be the tying kick.  It wasn’t even close.  The Eagles had brought the fans to the edge of success, only to fall short once again.  It had been that kind of frustrating season for the team.  It was a good game but it was marked by several scuffles on the field.  Somehow Eagle fans think they need to extend that to the stands and be part of the action.

As we exited the seats it began.  There were several opposing fans wearing Giants attire, and two of my friends were among them.  Eagle fans that looked like they could be crazed extras from Braveheart harassed us.  Somehow, the two Giant clad friends and I got separated from the group of ten.  At that moment it was not an issue.  We knew where the cars were parked.  Our seats had been down low, so we exited underneath the main rampway.  It was not long before we heard the shatter of glass around us.  Someone above spotted the Giant jerseys below and began hurling bottles at us.  Luckily, their aim was similar to that of the Eagles kicker and they all missed their mark.  As we neared the parking lot, our glass assailers caught up with us.  We had no idea we were being pursued.  One of the two Eagle fans, from behind, pushed my friend to the ground.  I immediately grabbed the guy, and then turned to see if my friend was ok.  I was suddenly punched in the back of the head.  Nice, yet another blindsided move.  As I turned back to deliver my own blow, I noticed next to him a behemoth big foot of a man…with possibly more hair.  His synaptic activity was slow at best, perhaps why he hadn’t acted yet.  He carried an igloo thermos.  I can only imagine that it had been filled with booze further clouding his cortex.  In what seemed like slow motion, he lifted the igloo and brought it down upon my friend’s head.  A crowd quickly gathered into a mob, urging the two drunks to “Kill the Giant Fans”.   It appeared others were ready to oblige.  My other friend, realizing the situation was getting out of hand, grabbed my prone pal and scrambled off.   I had one chance to join them.  I threw my dance partner down into the legs of Sasquatch to give myself a head start.  We were able to ditch the now dozen or so angry fans by darting between the parked cars.  My friend would be ok.  We were lucky it was not worse.

My shortened version of this filled the Philadelphia airways.  I told the serious tale to the jocks on 610 WIP.   Their response to the igloo thermos cracking over my cohort’s cranium…was laughter.  I informed them that this is what is wrong with your city.  Even 10 years later, with a judge having to be brought to their stadium, they still found this humorous.  I was ready to really let them have it and they must have sensed it.

For all I heard was “Let’s take the next caller”.