The NFL Draft: That long weekend in April when you're on a hot date with your favorite football team. She's dropped some weight, let her hair grow out, picked up a cornerback from the Jets. (Looking good, baby... Is it getting hot in here or is it just you?) Each day she shows you a little more (Oooh, a quarterback from NC State... he's so big... Josh could use a little competition... mmm, nice), throws in a couple of surprises (No more LaGarrette Blount? But you know I kind of like it rough... but who's this? Jeff Demps? Oh, he's fast. He'll get you there quickly... God that's hot... I don't know how much more of this I can take... please just kick the ball off already)...
Then?
"Well, good night. See you in four months."
(Huh? Wait. We're just getting started. My poor little blue footballs are killing me.)
And just like that... you're alone with a half-eaten plate of cold nachos wearing an Alstott jersey with your pants on the ceiling fan (don't judge me).
Long and perverted story short, the Buccaneers answered some off-season questions, left a few unanswered (no linebackers?) and the rest are open to endless hindsight debate and second-guessing by illiterate drunken experts in Tampa Bay men's rooms everywhere until training camp. Just please refrain from engaging until I zip up. It's creepy.
Speaking of bizarre encounters, Royals pitcher James Shields took the mound Tuesday against his former teammates for the first time after 12 seasons with the Rays. But never mind that shit, what's the deal with all the high-school-girl tweeting after the little spat between pitcher David Price and some umpire on Sunday? Juicy!
