We celebrate it in sports. We honor it when it comes to
family. And we rejoice in it when established among friends. Tradition is essentially
a benchmark of success.
The NFL Draft is more than just must-see TV for me. It’s now
a destination for me, an event I schedule work and family around. Since 2002,
watching the NFL Draft coverage has been an informal reunion amongst Army
buddies, guys I spent two years with away from home on deployment to San Antionio,
Tx., and Baghdad, Iraq. During those years, we bonded through stress, fear and
the unknown. Our reward, an annual weekend set aside for brew, dirty jokes and
simple immature mockery. Oh yea, there’s the draft.
Born from a simple jester from one Army buddy who was unable
to deploy with us to Iraq due to a knee injury visiting us weeks before shipping
out to hang out, which we did coincidently over the draft. Another guy says,
“This has been great, we should do this every year.”
And we have … 10 years running. Our draft party has been
quite resilient. It’s survived girlfriend break-ups, relocations, new jobs and
even our of own personality changes. It’s always been there, something to look
forward to every spring. And we always have a good time, even when our teams do
their best to force otherwise.
The names have often changed, as not everyone has made each
draft party for reasons as noted above. Some new guys appear and stranglers
return from a year or two absence. There has been a core three guys, me
included, which may dwindle down to two this year. It’s sad. As we grow older
and have children the allotted free time obviously becomes as plentiful as an
Oakland Raiders draft board.
I understand. That’s life. It’s been a good run, and we’ve
gotten some great memories out of it. Such great quotes as “just because you’re
drafting for a third-strong quarterback, doesn’t mean you need to draft a
third-string quarterback,” and “I don’t trust the glossy magazines” have come
from draft party conversations. And great memories as the mysterious girl (a
plus-one) who dropped an impressive deuce and left without flushing, and the
unnamed guy (a plus-one) who attempted to chop down tree limbs in the backyard
with a butter knife have been made.
What do I expect this year? You never know. There’s always
at least one surprise. One thing I am sure of. My Miami Dolphins will drive me
to the beer bottle … not once, not twice, not thrice, not …
- Jaime North
- Jaime North
