There Was One?

The NBA Draft used to be a humongous deal to me. I'd read the mock drafts and fill out my own five picks in order. Draft night, Brian, Chris and I would watch ESPN while tossing down a few pizzas and some rootbeer floats. A few months later, I'd start checking out the rookie cards. Yep, I still got my LJ.

Then two things happened (really three): first, the globalization of the NBA - many of the names just had too many consonants for me to be familiar with them; second, too many early-entries into the draft meant that I hadn't watched these kids for more than a year or two in college, if they went at all. Third, I got some sort of semblance of a life (but I later found out that, too, was an illusion).

Anyway, I got home at 9:15 last night, just in time to watch the beginning of the second round. I watched for about ten minutes before I put on Will & Grace. Who can pass up jazz hands?

Besides, it's sad to watch the few kids left milling around the green room all blinged and pimped out because some agent convinced them they'd be a lottery pick for sure.

I'm happy for the kids who actually got drafted. I just don't seeing myself looking for a Lamarcus or Dirty Sanchez card any time soon, though.