Russell Prentice has been stationed in front of his computer for
the better part of three hours now. His 6-foot, 300-pound frame
casts a shadow over the two monitors and three desks that he has
set up. There is a pile of NFL scouting reports, college football
stat sheets and fast food wrappers scattered all around him.
He has spent the afternoon studying the NFL Draft implications
of last week’s Rose Bowl, the national championship that saw
previously undefeated USC fall at the unstoppable feet of Vince
Young. "Big Russ" has been analyzing the aftermath of Young’s
definitive performance, which drove his draft stock to an all-time
high, quieting critics who saw the scrambling Texan as Michael Vick
redux.
But he isn’t trying to predict where at the top of the draft
Young will land. That’s only the beginning.
"I don’t think about that," he said. "It’s so surface level, for
amateurs. I am trying to figure out if Young will push Brodie
Croyle back to the fifth round."
Big Russ, a 27-year-old electrical engineer and self-admitted
stat geek, will spend most of his free time developing a
comprehensive NFL draft until the actual event takes place at the
end of April.
"Not pretend or fake, it’s mock ““ what is being predicted
by those who follow both college and pro ball," he said.
Russ is not alone in his mission to form a complete seven-round
mock draft, as a number of draftniks will spend the next four
months scoping fans’ message boards and independent scouting
reports that break down the athletic prowess of every single
college football player eligible for the draft.
While it is widely known that professional scouts have been
doing their homework and grading the talent level and poise of the
outgoing college players, it’s a little bit jarring to find out
just how much time these draftniks spend scouring the ends of the
world to know exactly where Maurice Drew will be drafted.
"Fourth round, by the Minnesota Vikings," Big Russ said.
It’s one thing to inquire about where Reggie Bush will go in the
draft (you can pretty much guarantee he’s going No. 1 to the
Texans, and I don’t need any number crunching to get that one).
It’s a completely different story for these self-appointed draft
gurus. Their efforts go far beyond anything that can be classified
as fandom. Conversely, many of them try to remove themselves from
the usual delirium of a casual fan so as not to sway their
judgement as to where a prospect might come off the board.
But why would anyone in their right mind sacrifice so much of
themselves for a two-day event that is lost between the NBA
postseason and the reemergence of baseball after its winter
hibernation? You cannot answer that with any trite insult about how
these are lowly figures who divide their time between Madden
football on Xbox, Internet poker rooms and an endless supply of
Chinese delivery. That kind of condescending generalization only
holds true 94 percent of the time.
The draftnik has become an increasingly sexy figure in the
sports world over the last quarter century. A young Mel Kiper Jr.
burst onto the scene back in 1983 and has since served as ESPN’s
draft master. He still sets the bar for all the posers who have
been molded in his image. His trademark greaser hairstyle might
even be retired in the NFL Hall of Fame, right next to Chris
Berman’s salmon tie.
And then there is Jerry Jones, who is the Ezra Pound of the
draftnik movement, writing his revolutionary "Drugstore List" books
on the annual draft and how each prospect projects to play at the
NFL level. However, the boom in mock draft war rooms has been
directly influenced by ESPN’s fateful decision to televise the
two-day, 15-hour event on national television. There could be no
bigger sports programming moment in American pop culture.
While these draftniks are often chastised by the mainstream,
accused of being obsessive or even egotistical, they are the bridge
between March Madness and baseball’s Opening Day, when all that is
left to watch on Sportscenter is bad Lakers basketball or, perish
the thought, hockey.
It’s a strange job, but someone’s gotta do it.