The Draft Read Online Free Page B

very different game began. This was the game the fans never saw and barely heard about. Perhaps it wasn’t as glamorous, but it was just as tough, just as competitive, and the stakes were just as high. A young athlete’s entire future was decided by the stroke of a pen. Millionaires were made in afternoon meetings. The power was tremendous and, for some, corrupting.
    Preparation for each year’s draft was particularly demanding. Technically the process began years before, when the scouts were reviewing players early in their college careers. By January, a team would begin to assemble their draft board, which was usually nothing more than a collection of names on a wall. These were the players a team deemed capable of playing in the pros. Of the tens of thousands of college players in the country, a mere two hundred or so would be considered. A team had to base their choices on two factors—what they needed, and what was available. It was nothing more than a guessing game, plain and simple. In most cases, someone other than the head coach made the final personnel decisions, but usually that person conferred with his coaches when determining his teams most urgent needs. If a coach utilized a system that required a large tight end who could block, then such a tight end became that much more valuable in the draft. Putting together the final draft list was in part a slow process of elimination. Beyond the board of college prospects, a team would also assemble boards of both semipro players and those who were of pro quality but, for one reason or another, were not playing for any team at the moment. And, as with the college boys, each pro team had staff whose job it was to keep the information on all such players fully updated.
    Jon took a heavy folder from his desk. On the first loose-leaf page was a neatly handwritten list of the Ravens’ desired picks, arranged in order of preference. The desk was usually locked as a standard security measure—insider information on a team’s draft was worth a small fortune and treated like a military secret during wartime. This year, however, he doubted anyone would be interested. Due to last year’s second Super Bowl victory, the Ravens naturally had the last pick in the draft’s first round. By that time most of the surprises would be over and most, if not all, of the premium talent would be gone. Every now and then a gem would slip into the lower rounds, but those cases were rare and usually the result of a player who greatly exceeded expectations rather than an oversight on the part of the scouts.
    Jon tuned his radio to a ’70s station and reviewed the list for what seemed like the hundredth time. There were two, actually—a “wish list” made up of players he’d love to get but didn’t expect to, and then a “reality list,” which he was studying now. He was still comfortable with it, sure that the player at the top would be available when their turn came. That player was Bryan Engler, a tackle from Florida State. The Ravens weren’t in desperate need at that position, but the coaches felt they lacked depth. One of their present tackles, Craig Little, would probably retire in the next year or two, and Frank James, another veteran in the same position, was also mumbling about calling it quits. So they needed to think about his replacement. Engler, if they could land him, would fill the role nicely.
    Jon was thinking about the next player on the list, a wide receiver from North Carolina State, when the phone rang. Surprised, he glanced at his desk clock: 7:04. Odd that anyone would be calling this early, he thought. It wasn’t often they had business so urgent that it needed attention at this hour.
    â€œHello? Oh, hiya, Tommy. What are you doing up at this hou—what’s that? No, I haven’t put on ESPN yet. Why?” When Jon heard and absorbed the fateful news, his stomach tightened. He asked if it was