LIVE FROM THE COMBINE!

Well, I'm here in Indianapolis for the 2007 NFL Scouting Combine. I somehow got credentials and I'm trying to keep it a secret, but for some reason feel the need to make a massive post to the ol' blog. So here goes...

One quick disclaimer: Apparently, there isn't a law set in place in Indy that requires people to clear sidewalks of ice and snow. I have had several near-death experiences and about 3,584 moments of "Sludge, sludge, sludge, squish, crush, slip, DEATH!" while walking in downtown Indy. This may explain why I hate walking from one place to another and definitely explains certainly lapses in judgement...

- First and foremost, I have had numerous "celebrity" sightings here at the Combine. There have been several moments where I've said, "Holy shit! It's XXXXX!" None of these people are actually famous and may only be important to themselves, their family, and losers like me that read their sports columns on a regular basis, but it was still a thrill.

Highlights:

Gil Brandt of NFL.com looks like he's about 36o years old. He's still a legend and I'll still read his stuff like it's bible verse, but MAN he's old.

ESPN's John Clayton (graduate of Duquesne) looks and acts just like Mr. Kelly, the former theater director of Penn State - Beaver and my old director (you may remember me from such plays as Our Town and Cinderella). I swear to God that the man was perfectly functional at the beginning of every rehearsal. However, throughout three hours of yelling at us and looking like his head was going to explode, I believe he had a minor stroke every night because after rehearsal, he seemed to lose all feeling in the left side of his body (his left arm would cease to function, he'd walk with a limp, everything). Clayton seems the exact same way. I seriously thought he'd start slurring his words and start calling me "Mammy" by the end of the day.

Adam Shefter is really short. Like, really short.

Mike Martz looks like he's aged about 35 years since the Rams lost to the Patriots in the Super Bowl.

I also saw Michael Smith, but that wasn't significant because he looks exactly the same in person as he does on TV. It's uncanny.

- The set-up is a depressing ballroom with two podiums on either side. Pavlov wasn't fucking around. When a hot draft prospect enters the room, everyone scatters, scrambles to find their tape recorders and cameras, and sprints to the podium. You'd think they erected a stripper pole and said that Anna Nicole was doing "one more from beyond the grave." Crazy.

- Today, I saw the largest humans I have ever seen in my life. Mostly offensive linemen (obviously) and all just simply gigantic. To put it in perspective, I saw a guy that was 6'5", 300 and thought he looked small. This could possibly be because I also saw a guy that was almost 6'7", 324 and had the most massive hands I have ever seen in my life. They looked like he could rest the bottom of his palm on my chin and touch the bald spot on the back of my head with his pinky. Just... huge. That guy's name is Doug Free and I have a man-crush on him. I think the Steelers should draft him, put him in a cage on the sidelines, and throw a baby lamb into the cage every time they're behind, just so the other team will be demoralized as they watch him rip it limb from limb and devour it. The guy's that intimidating.

- There's a pretty shocking disparity in the interview styles between the Big Time prospects and the "guys that are just happy to be there." There was one guy from a Division III school in the North West (Michael Allan) that was very lucid, candid, and almost philosophical. All the top tackle prospects (Joe Staley, Joe Thomas), were very positive, used a lot of cliches, dodged tough questions, and said a lot without really saying anything. Almost like they were already NFL players. It was pretty interesting.

And, while we're at it, it's weird to interview football players and have them respect you. These guys haven't gotten fed up with the media yet, aren't jaded, and actually think you're there to help. It's refreshing, but kinda depressing. It almost makes me feel bad to say things like Joe Thomas seems like more of a banker than a tackle; and would you really trust a banker to protect your quarterback's blind side?

Almost.

- I'm not sure that I like sportswriters. I don't usually like people the first 24 hours that I knowt them, so the jury's still out. They just seem a little too angry, a little too bitter, and a little too negative for a group of guys that get to sit around and bullshit about football all day. And they get paid for it! I dunno. I hope that one day I can be bitter, angry, and negative about that.

- A few tidbits I found out about the Steelers:

1. Cowher was a ladies man. A serious ladies man. Not only did he search, he found. And took back to the hotel. And had crazy sex with. So much to the point that one guy said, "I feel bad for his wife and his girls." I was pretty shocked to hear that.

2. Russ Grimm is a heavy drinker and it's probably why he didn't get the head job with the Steelers. I was shocked to hear that, but Weidman wasn't, saying, "Look at him. It looks like he likes to party." Huh. Never saw it.

3. Whisenhunt apparently likes to talk too much. It's been said that he needs to get over that if he's going to succeed in Arizona.

Other Highlights:

I got back from the Combine, changed, and realized that I needed a lighter (tired of using matches in high wind to light my cigarettes), a travel sized toothpaste (my ghetto-ass hotel gave me a bunch of "packets" of toothpaste that are only good for one brush), and a notepad (because I felt weird about borrowing one from someone else). The lady at the front desk said that there was a Walgreen's about eight blocks away. I started walking, followed the directions, and found out about 20 minutes later that she had seriously underestimated what 8 blocks meant on freezing sidewalks in a strange city. I saw a sign for a bar in the distance and made tracks for it.

It was called "Tavern" and looked okay from the outside. I walked in, saw that they had ashtrays (you apparently can't smoke anywhere in downtown Indy, even though it's not a law), and ordered a beer. I never noticed the music. I never looked up at the TVs. When I listened and looked, my blood ran cold. The music was techno and the TVs were playing a montage of still shots with dudes with their shirts off, dudes with big biceps, dudes biting other dudes' nipples, and dudes barely covering their junk. My GayDar is about as faulty as they come, but I still should've known when I walked in.

I then spent the next 6 minutes deciding exactly how quickly I should drink my beer (while drinking it, obviously). I didn't want to be rude, but I definitely wanted to distance myself from the third most strangely erotic moment of my life - the second being when I walked into a gay bar in New Orleans with Weidman and my brother (it's worse when you walk into a gay bar with other guys) and the worst being when a buddy of mine imitated the tagline for the bar Whiskey Dick's (the tagline being: "Whiskey Dick's: Where at least the drinks are always stiff" but the person that said the tagline was a woman that sounded like a drag queen and my buddy tried to imitate a women that sounded like a drag queen while pretending to flirt with me - just altogether strange and uncomfortable).

So... I ended up walking about 2 miles on icy sidewalks through various parts of downtown Indy, trying to forget that I ended up in a gay bar and didn't immediately leave (not that there's anything wrong with that), and somehow ended up three blocks from my hotel (three real blocks - as in I could see it from where I ended up). I found a bar that didn't have shirtless dudes on plasma TVs, served food, and had Miller Lite (my default beer - what I order when I realize that not every city in America serves Iron City and Yeungling). I hunkered down there for a while and watched Super Bowl 360.

All of that brought me back to normal, since there was a lot of footage of football, Indy's cheerleaders (especially nice close-ups when the rain started coming down), and no actual shots of Prince. Good times.

That's all for today. More to come tomorrow!