Mainefan
Rotational Player and Threatening Starter's Job
- Joined
- May 20, 2005
- Messages
- 1,296
- Reaction score
- 67
In my dream, all the big names on Patsfans are gathered in front of Belichick’s house—Manxman, Patchick, MgTech, Midwestpatsfan, Patsnutme, Patfranken, someone named Ian something and a bunch of much lesser lights, including me.
One of us summons the courage to knock at the front door. Several times. There’s no answer, but after awhile, an upstairs window opens and someone wearing a disreputable blue hoodie sticks his head out. He is frowning. It is none other than the Draft Nazi himself.
One of us calls up to him. “Hey, Bill. How about drafting Tyler Lockett? He could stretch…”
“No!” says the Draft Nazi. “No binkie for you.”
Someone else says, “Well, we do need an offensive lineman. What about T. J. Clemmings or Tre Jackson? …”
The Draft Nazi interrupts, annoyed “No binkie for you either,”
The group is silent for a few moments. But before the Draft Nazi can close the window, someone else calls up to him. “Jesus, Bill, we’ve got five picks left. Couldn’t we get at least one cornerback, maybe Nelson or even McCain.”
The Draft Nazi glowers down at the group. “No. No binkie for you. Move on.”
Finally, I get my courage up—fools rush in—and I shout up to the Draft Nazi. “Couldn’t we just take a chance on Zack Zenner?”
The Draft Nazi smiled grimly. “Zenner? Not a chance. Now go away and stop guessing You’re making fools of yourselves.”
“Come on guys,” Ian says, leading the group away from the house. “Maybe we’ll do better next year.”
“I doubt it,” says someone in the crowd. “God and Bill Belichick work in mysterious ways.”
One of us summons the courage to knock at the front door. Several times. There’s no answer, but after awhile, an upstairs window opens and someone wearing a disreputable blue hoodie sticks his head out. He is frowning. It is none other than the Draft Nazi himself.
One of us calls up to him. “Hey, Bill. How about drafting Tyler Lockett? He could stretch…”
“No!” says the Draft Nazi. “No binkie for you.”
Someone else says, “Well, we do need an offensive lineman. What about T. J. Clemmings or Tre Jackson? …”
The Draft Nazi interrupts, annoyed “No binkie for you either,”
The group is silent for a few moments. But before the Draft Nazi can close the window, someone else calls up to him. “Jesus, Bill, we’ve got five picks left. Couldn’t we get at least one cornerback, maybe Nelson or even McCain.”
The Draft Nazi glowers down at the group. “No. No binkie for you. Move on.”
Finally, I get my courage up—fools rush in—and I shout up to the Draft Nazi. “Couldn’t we just take a chance on Zack Zenner?”
The Draft Nazi smiled grimly. “Zenner? Not a chance. Now go away and stop guessing You’re making fools of yourselves.”
“Come on guys,” Ian says, leading the group away from the house. “Maybe we’ll do better next year.”
“I doubt it,” says someone in the crowd. “God and Bill Belichick work in mysterious ways.”
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