If for some reason you had something worthwhile to do on Saturday morning besides watch the NFL Draft, then you missed one of the most middle-school-esque moments in the history of professional sports.
Notre Dame quarterback Brady Quinn was supposed to be the second rated quarterback in the draft. He was the golden boy and was supposed to be a lock for one of the top-10 picks.
First it was the Browns. Cleveland desperately needed a quarterback, and the pictures of little Brady wearing the Browns jerseys made the story line almost too easy for the media.
And then the Browns passed him up. It happens.
So Miami, right? There’s no way Miami would pass up the opportunity to take Quinn once he fell into the Dolphins’ lap.
Wrong. They went for Ted Ginn Jr. out of Ohio State, and the shock on Quinn’s face made him look a lot like a beaten-down Fred Savage in “The Wonder Years” after Winnie decided to dance with somebody else.
Except instead of corny music and a voice-over, it was Suzy Kolber continually asking him about the pressure. The cameras would not leave Quinn alone, and with almost 15 minutes in between picks, there was a lot of camera time he had to endure.
With love interest Lindy Slinger sitting next to him, Quinn was the first-ever wallflower to be waiting on the side of the dance floor with his girlfriend.
With team after team picking who did not need a quarterback, Chris Berman and company kept trying to raise the possibility that maybe one of these teams would pick him.
They didn’t. And in one of the most merciful moves in human history, Quinn was taken to a private room cut off from the media where he could curse the world, punch the walls and prepare to fire his agent in private.
Getting stood up is one thing. Getting stood up in front of millions of people is an entirely different story.
I’ve been stood up once. Or at least there is one time that I haven’t blocked out of my memory.
I was supposed to go see “Jurassic Park 3″ with Katie Lieberman in seventh grade. No moms for this one. I walked to the theater myself. Needless to say, it was a big deal.
I waited outside for half an hour ““ she didn’t show.
In the end Quinn was a little bit luckier than me. The Browns came calling after all.
Cleveland traded up to get the 22nd pick in the draft and saved Quinn. The picture of him in the Browns jersey and helmet was up instantly.
All I can think about is: What in the world did Cleveland say to Quinn? Did the Browns apologize? Did they come up with an elaborate lie about how they accidentally had their thumb over his name during the third pick because he was ranked so high? Did they buy him flowers? Chocolates?
You gotta give it to Quinn. He handled himself well throughout the entire day, despite it being one of the worst days imaginable. What I will be most impressed with is if Quinn can put the whole mess behind him and cultivate a positive professional relationship with the team that left him waiting.
I haven’t spoken to Katie since “Jurassic Park 3,” let alone worked with her on a day-to-day basis.
All I have to say is good luck, Quinn, but don’t let the Browns off the hook too easy. Or they will leave you outside the movie theater debating whether or not to walk home.
E-mail Gordon at bgordon@media.ucla.edu if you felt bad because the walk home from New York to South Bend would have been really long.