Draft Telecast Looks More Like Amateur Hour

I sprang out of bed at the crack of nine Sunday morning in anticipation of the historic telecast of the first Sunday National Football League college draft.

Actually I was a few minutes late for the opening draft-off, my spring reflex not being quite what it used to be. Thus was exposed the chief flaw of the otherwise stunning telecast--the best player is drafted first!

This violates every law of television and drama. You don’t kick off the Miss America Pageant by crowning Miss America, then work back and climax the show by announcing Miss No. 49th Runner-Up.

This flaw can be fixed next year, by having teams draft in reverse order, with the last pick in the last round chosen first. Teams will be on their honor to always select the player they like the least, thus saving the best for last.

But let’s not nit-pick a great moment of sports and television history. Seven hours of the NFL Draft, live from New York, with announcers, analysts, time clocks, remote crews, grandstands, chrome water pitchers and hot-line telephones that are replicas of NFL team helmets. The latter give a new meaning to the expression “Talking through your hat.”

The telecast was moved to Sunday this year, according to Commissioner Pete Rozelle, because “Teachers tell us that kids have been cutting class to see it. I guess we don’t need that.”

You certainly don’t, Pete. Much better that kids skip church. That way you get the youngsters into the NFL-on-Sunday habit, so they’ll be programmed to sit through those TV quadrupleheaders, like good little couch French fries.

The NFL Draft, also known as Pete’s Meat Market, could have degenerated into an ugly spectacle. Via remote cameras, we watched college kids’ lives and careers crumble as they were bypassed in the high rounds. But the ESPN announcers managed to keep the telecast on a high plane.

Announcer Bob Ley introduced the issue of “the classic debate--Do you draft for need or for the best athlete available?”

Too bad Socrates and Plato, or Lincoln and Douglas, weren’t around to tackle this one.

Each team had a different philosophy. The Rams, obviously drafting for need, selected a new team owner.

The Raiders, drafting for need and athletic ability, picked ESPN announcer Joe Theismann.

The other classic philosophical debate of the first round was this: Craig (Ironhead) Heyward: Overweight head-case, or misunderstood fat slob?

Wayward Heyward can pack the pigskin and eat it, too. But credit ESPN for not overemphasizing Heyward’s weight problem. It was only mentioned 20 or 30 times.

At least the network had the good taste not to haul Heyward down to a truck scale along Interstate 76, or superimpose his ongoing weight readings on the TV screen, like stock-market quotations.

When the tension on the draft floor got too thick, or the blood too deep, ESPN would take us to the hotel balcony grandstands, where Beano Cook was interviewing the fans. They were mostly New York Jets and New York Giants fans, guys who would need to spruce up to appear in a police lineup.

Beano interviewed two doctors in Jets jerseys. They probably had to cancel full slates of brain surgery in order to see if the Jets could fill that Joe Klecko void.

When the time clock was ticking down on one team’s draft pick, the fans in the gallery hummed the theme song of the quiz show “Jeopardy.”

Two fans had arrived late and they explained to Beano, “We stopped to get facial paint on the way, but we couldn’t get any.”

Apparently no ski-mask stores were open, either.

“The mystery,” Beano said at one point, “is why anyone would come out on a Sunday morning to see a draft.”

Beano tactfully avoided addressing the bigger question: How would you like to be marooned on a desert island with this gaggle of yahoos?

Generally, the ESPN on-camera crew did a good job of keeping the draft show lively, with patter, analysis and debate. Mel Kiper Jr. was especially peppy. Once Mel gets started talking, you need a dragster parachute to slow him down. If you don’t listen close, you’re not sure whether Mel is analyzing ballplayers or auctioning tobacco.

Generally, though, it was a wonderful show, well handled. In fact, I’d like to see this same telecast crew handle other events, like the next selection of a Pope.

“Mel, what do the scouts say about Cardinal McJohnson?”

“Well, Bob, they question McJohnson’s speed. They say he’s a little slow in accepting new dogma. And his weight is a question mark, how much he carries with the Man Upstairs. But the consensus is that this guy could be a franchise-type Pope.”

“Thanks, Mel. Now let’s go to Roy Firestone, on location at the Vatican chimney.”

Sunday’s telecast will be a tough one to top, but I have high hopes for the upcoming NBA Draft Lottery, with commissioner-emcee Dave (the Rave) Stern spinning the Big Wheel.

Don’t wait ‘till the last minute. Get your facial paint now.