It's not even 9am on a Saturday. Yet here I am, fully awake. Why? It's Draft Day, kids. I can't really trace back the moment where my love for NFL football compelled me to treat Draft Day like a major holiday, complete with a dorkish giddyness in the weeks before the big day, but that's where I am now.
It's become an annual tradition of sorts to have a few folks over, order some chicken wings, open a few beverages, and waste a perfectly beautiful day inside watching Mel Kiper get worked up over some team not making the pick that he's spent the last three months assuring us was the right pick for that team to make.
One day, I'm going to get a kegerator and start calling it "Draught Day" (see what I did?). For now, I have a pretty unpredictable first round to look forward to and some good folks on the way over to enjoy it with me.
Simple pleasures, you know?
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