'Tis the night before the draft, so let's have a look at tomorrow's events and how down they all shook. Jerry and Cisky, at dinner with blings, were fat, drunk and half-naked; living like kings. Our coaching staff in the war room, the Big Board, staying focused on things. Jimmy, Peete and Bill sat back with big fat cigars knowing Garrett would bring them shiny new cars. Rob likewise sat, but at the head of the table, mellow and thoughtful, but still not quite able to conceal the tick in his eye when Jason walked by, cavalierly adjusting the picks. Brian, Eberflus and Henderson came strolling in, Rob shot them a glare and chuffed "What's with the love fest? Where have you been?" "Nowhere, Coach." Was the casual reply from a near-giddy Baker, twinkle in his eye. Things stayed civil until about 1030 when John Garrett saw the board and said "Dad, that sure is purty." Rob could not help himself, looked up to find Coach had moved Gilmore and Irvin behind the fourth round TEs. His face nearly folded from neural impulsion, squeezed Eberflus to prevent an expulsion. "MAYBE WE COULD JUST ASK!" squeaked the barely-audible retortion. Garrett looked up, said "Who killed the mouse? Rob, that had better not be one of your silent abortions." "Speaking of silented unborn hopes," Rob shoved from his chair with glorious upheaval, "what's with the sudden desecration of our steeple?" "He's the Head Coach!" John said with all he could muster. Rob's forehead vein exploded. "Listen Here, Buster!" he unloaded, "Jason's our coach, not above reproach just becuse Tom is out with his raucous brochacho. "This moment is key, CBs are risky, I'd like to get one in four and in three. Our offense is more potent than Jerry's celebrating whiskey." John moved with plans of speaking command, but Jason's voice boomed out across all the land "If you make me stand, I'm gonna come smack you down with my ring hand. As for our defense, the talent infused would treat us all kindly if not so misused." Jugular vein pronounced beneath double chin, "That's not true. You know the sad shape we were in. Free agency moves were only the beginning. Keep building or defense and we will start winning. Your bland game plans in face of history are just sinning." What ensued next is best just described as a very friendly test of strength among a bunch of guys that got a little out of control; ruptured spleens, half gouged eyes. In the very worst of it, Jerry strolled in with Tom, who jumped up on the table and shouted with aplomb: "Oh, heck yeah, Baby! With this heart, just maybe we'll start to see an intense RKG mentality!" Jerry had his share, even for Jerry-Jer, and so I have to be fair and record he had already noticed the board. He kicked Jason in the ribs, said "All of you, up." He nonchalantly picked up and swirled 'round Rob's cup. "Tonight I met a fan, such an idealistic man, the platform on which he stands, we're tuna in a can. We're not drafting a TE in the third, Garrett. We're keeping our draft board as we prepared it. Now fix it and clean up from all the hysterics." And that's how it went down, who woulda thought RR, BTB and Jerry would keep cool when JG5000 got hot? For it is about the process, is it not? And now we can unwrap and see what we got.
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