Previous rounds can be read here:
And now, Battle Red Onion's coverage of the 2013 NFL draft.
Main Stage - Radio City Music Hall - 7:58 p.m. EDT
(Roger Goodell sits offstage on a metal folding chair, breathing into a brown paper bag.)
Assistant (in clear British accent): That's right, sir, just breathe deep. (Begins fanning Goodell). You'll be right as rain in a moment.
Goodell (pulling paper bag away from his lips): Thank you, Reginald. You really have been a lifesaver for me the last few months.
Goodell: What with all my efforts to limit concussions and long-term injuries to players and Bountygate and leaving the replacement referees in for a full month last year, and everyone saying I'm ruining everything that's good about football, it's like I can't catch a break.
Reginald: Fear not, sir. Everyone's looking forward to the draft, and you don't have to be out there long to announce picks.
Goodell: Y-you're right. And this is supposed to be like Christmas for football fans, right?
Reginald: Of course, sir. If you think of it that way, you're very much like Santa Claus, sir.
Goodell: And who doesn't like Santa Claus, right?
Reginald: Only Communists, sir, and they rarely watch football anyway.
Goodell: You're right, Reginald.
(Peanut Gallery begins chanting "Draft! Draft! Draft!")
Goodell: Well...time to give 'em what they want. (Dusts off suit) How do I look?
Reginald: Marvelous, sir.
Goodell (looks over to TV producer): We ready to go?
Producer (deadpan): We have been for the last 15 minutes, sir.
(Goodell strides confidently out onto the stage. The Peanut Gallery unleashes a cacophony of booing and jeering. Saints fans throw crawfish onto the stage, which land with a dull "plop")
Goodell (to himself): Happy place, happy place. (To the expectant mob) Welcome to the 2013 NFL Draft.
(Lone Saints fan stands amid the crowd and shouts completely incomprehensible curses at Goodell)
Goodell (tugging at neck tie): The Kansas City Chiefs are on the clock.
(Goodell dashes off stage, fans boo him even louder. Even the crawfish are giving him one-claw salutes)
Kansas City Chiefs War Room - 8:17 p.m. EDT
Chiefs GM John Dorsey: I do love the draft. So many options, so many ways to mold and shape a team.
Assistant: Yeah, it's pretty awesome, in'nit?
Dorsey (glares at assistant): This is a professional organization. I will not have slang in my front office. Am I understood?
Assistant (sheepishly): Yes, sir.
Dorsey: Now. Should we get our pick in now, or make them squirm a few minutes?
Chiefs QB Alex Smith: Hold off a minute, Mr. General Manager, sir.
Dorsey: Alex? What are you doing here?
Smith: I want to help.
Dorsey: Help? How?
Smith: By contributing to the drafting process.
Coach Andy Reid: Do what?
Smith: Just hear me out. I know you're taking a chance with me, what with me only having one and a half good years in my entire career.
(Dorsey shudders at Smith's grammatical construction.)
Smith (cont'd): So I want to help make this team a team I can be really proud of. With that in mind, I think you should draft another weapon I can throw the ball to: Denard Robinson out of Michigan.
Dorsey and Reid: What??
Smith: We can work it into the theme of this year's team, which I've also come up with.
(Smith presses remote and a large red and yellow banner unfurls reading "Commitment To Mediocrity.")
Smith (cont'd.): What do you think?
(Dorsey stares at the banner with his jaw agape.)
Reid (turning to Dorsey): Is it too soon to cut him?
Oakland Raiders War Room - 8:42 p.m. EDT
Raiders GM Reggie McKenzie: I think this is the first time we've had a first round pick in a while. Certainly the first time I've had one to play with. I-I have no idea what to use it on. We have so many needs.
(stares at draft board.)
Minion 1: Who do you wish to draft?
McKenzie: I'll take suggestions if anyone's offering them.
(War room remains silent.)
Minion 2: I have an idea! We should as--
(Minion 1 jabs Minion 2 in the ribs.)
McKenzie: We should what?
Minion 2 (looking embarrassed): Nothing, sir.
McKenzie: No, tell me.
Minion 2: Well, we could...(voice trails off)
McKenzie: Could what? C'mon, out with it.
Minion 1: (sighs) Go on tell him, you drip.
Minion 2: We could ask the Master.
Minion 2: Al.
(Minion 1 glares at Minion 2. Minion 2 fails to notice.)
McKenzie: You mean Mark?
(Minion 2 shakes head miserably.)
McKenzie: But how? Al Davis has been dead for years.
Minion 1: Yes. He knew that some day that would become more of an inconvenience than usual. So he made...arrangements.
(Minion 1 pulls folder from bookcase. The bookcase spins around to reveal a small altar covered with arcane scrawlings, including images of Lane Kiffin, Marcus Allen, and, for some reason, Dan Ackroyd.)
McKenzie: What on...Earth?
Minion 1: Great Al--
Minions (in unison with bowed heads): Glory be to Great Al.
Minion 1: --created this so that we could consult him for drafting advice from any place he is at any time.
McKenzie (backing and looking more than a little disgusted): So don't tell me...first we need a live chicken?
Minion 1: (laughs) Don't be ridiculous.
(McKenzie sighs with relief)
Minion 1: Great Al--
Minions (in unison with heads bowed): His name be hallowed forever.
Minion 1: --left us with everything we need to get in touch with him. (Goes to refrigerator and pulls out a bottle filled with a substance that looks like ketchup.)
(Minion 2 shakes his head.)
McKenzie: Never mind. I don't want to know. Just...just do it.
(Minion 1 pours a heap of the gloppy red substance into a small chalice in the middle of the altar. The minions begin muttering silently. A vague cloud forms over the altar growing to the size of a dinner plate, then covering the entire ceiling in a bluish gray mist.)
Former Raiders Owner Al Davis (to an unseen army): Follow me, and throw off the yoke of your oppressors! Show your master you will not be ignored!
(Unseen Army cheers Davis. The image flickers and vanishes.)
Minion 1: Fastest player available?
McKenzie: It's what Al--
(Minions glare at McKenzie)
McKenzie: --Great Al would have wanted.
Minions (in unison with bowed heads): Praised be his name.
Players Green Room - Radio City Music Hall - 8:47 p.m. EDT
Eagles Coach Chip Kelly (Slides next to Luke Joeckel): How you feelin', Luke?
Kelly: Glad to hear it, son. Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I'm really impressed with your skill set and that I would be proud, damn proud, to have you sign with the Philadelphia Eagles. How would that sound?
Joeckel: Um, pretty awesome, I guess.
Buccaneers Coach Greg Schiano: Don't you listen to him, Luke, m'boy. They're goin' through some pretty serious rebuilding up there in frigid ol' Philly. Now back in Tampa, that's who I coach, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, it's nice and warm and we're only a couple of pieces away from being a real contender for a championship. You want to win now?
Joeckel: Sure. Who doesn't?
Schiano (displays big s***-eating grin): Damn right, son. Now I've already got your letter of intent right here. All I need is your John Hancock on the dotted line.
West Virginia Wide Receiver Tavon Austin: Hey!
(Schiano and Kelly turn to Austin, and the other 21 players waiting to be called.)
Austin: What are we, chopped liver?
Bills Coach Doug Marrone: Certainly not. I was just coming on down your way, matter of fact. Tavon, (Marrone kneels), I ain't gonna lie, you're great, and we want you in Syra--I mean Buffalo. I keep getting the two confused.
(Pete Carroll and Jim Harbaugh come in and start talking animatedly with Sheldon Richardson. A slap fight between the two coaches ensues.)
Carroll: He's coming with us!
Harbaugh: No, he's going to San Francisco.
(Loud whistle from Washington cornerback Desmond Trufant.)
Trufant: Hey! This is a draft. Y'all ain't got to recruit us. You pick us, we play for you.
(All five coaches mumble assent.)
Harbaugh (mutters): Forgot about that.
ESPN Anchor Desk - Radio City Music Hall - 9:06 p.m. EDT
Chris Berman: There you have it. The Buffalo Bills, under new coach Doug Marrone take Tavon Austin to line up opposite Stevie Johnson. Gentlemen, I happen to think this is a phenomenal pick by the Bills. Thoughts?
(All the other talking heads nod in agreement.)
Skip Bayless: I think this was a terrible pick. Simply putrid.
(Berman jerks head toward Bayless.)
Berman: Who the hell let him in here? Security!
Mel Kiper: You didn't know about this?
Berman: About what?
Steve Young: Orders from on high. Because ESPN is no longer concerned about decent sports coverage and more about inciting debate, even really stupid debate, the powers-that-be decided that having Skip as part of our draft coverage team would really boost the ratings.
Bayless: I really think the Bills should have taken a transcendent quarterback, someone like Tim Tebow.
(Entire audience stops talking and looks Bayless' way in an almost Pavlovian response to the name Tebow.)
Bayless: See? That's what the Bills need, someone who will get people's attention immediately with the mention of his very name.
Berman (scowling at Bayless): Like who?
Bayless: Like that kid out of Syracuse, Nassib.
Berman: Don't be ridiculous. There's more than some question as to whether Nassib is even a first round pick.
Bayless: That's where you're wrong.
Berman (eye twitching): What? What did you just call me?
Bayless: You're just wrong, but I'm more than willing to debate the issue with you. You know, just to show you how wrong you are.
Berman: Maybe later. Right now it's time for the New York Jets to make their selection.
Bayless: They need to play more Tim Tebow.
(Another awkward, almost reverent silence.)
Berman (resisting the urge to kill): The Jets are on the clock.
New York Jets War Room - 9:08 p.m. EDT
Jets GM John Idzik: I think we've got our pick. Stapleton, make the call.
Stapleton: One moment.
(Jets owner Woody Johnson bursts into room.)
Johnson: Who the friggin' hell was the idiot that traded away Darrelle Revis from under my nose?!
Idzik: Mr. Johnson? That-that was me.
Johnson: You better have some damn good explanatin' for why.
Idzik: Sir, we have to begin rebuilding, and Revis was our best player. We can make some serious hay with two first rounders.
Johnson: Rebuild? Why?
Idzik: So we can build a winning team, maybe even a Super Bowl-caliber team.
Johnson: You think I care about Super Bowls?
Johnson (closes blinds, lowers the lights, except for one light which surrounds him in an otherworldly glow): You have meddled with the primal forces of football, Mr. Idzik, and I WILL NOT HAVE IT. Is that clear? You think we're in this business to win titles? That is not the case!
The circus that we've assembled has taken millions of dollars out of my wallet, and now the fans must put it back. It is ebb and flow, tidal gravity! It is economic balance.
You are a man who thinks of football in terms of wins and touchdowns. There are no wins. There are no touchdowns. There is no offense. There is no defense. There are no points. There is only one holistic system of systems, one vast and immane, interwoven, interacting, multivariate, multi-franchisal dominion of entertainment. Alcohol, amusingly troubled players and their madcap adventures, enormous TV screens that make you feel more like you're at the game even when you're at the game, tailgate parties, and obscenely overpriced food at concession stands, and somewhere far below that is the actual performance of the team. These are the things that matter Mr. Idzik, the entertainment, the bang for Joe Six-Pack's buck. That's what concerns me.
It is the system that determines the totality of the life of this league. That is the natural order of things today. That is the atomic and subatomic and galactic structure of things today! And YOU have meddled with the primal forces of football, Mr. Idzik. And YOU. WILL. ATONE!
Do I make myself clear?
(Idzik nods uneasily.)
Johnson (cont'd): Find me the biggest headcase of this draft.
Idzik: Yes, Mr. Johnson.
ESPN Anchor Desk - Radio City Music Hall - 9:13 p.m. EDT
Berman: And there's the Jets' pick. I'm not--
Bayless: What are these people, insane? I mean who's doing the picking for these guys anyway?
(Awkward silence from all 314 people sitting behind the ESPN desk.)
Berman: As I was saying, I--
Bayless: That's a terrible way to run your draft, totally out of touch with reality.
(Girlish giggle from Chris Mortensen as he waits to see if Berman will, in fact, explode.)
Berman: Now it's--
Bayless: I hope Tennes--
Berman: Tennessee has the next pick and guys, I think we could see the first gua--
Kiper (in stage whisper): Chris! We're not supposed to tip the picks!
Berman: Okay. The Schwam, not ESPN, The Schwam predic--
Kiper: Stop! ESPN made a deal with the NFL not to do spoiler alerts! They'll break out the cattle prods again if you do it.
Berman: This is my f***ing network, I'm Chris F***ing Berman and if I'm going to be an obnoxious know-it-all, then I'm gonna do it. The Tennessee Titans are taking--
(Berman suddenly drops to the floor and writhes on the floor in electrical spasms.)
Tom Jackson (slides into Berman's seat): We'll be right back. The Tennessee Titans are on the clock.
(Bump music cues up.)
Young: That was awesome.
Tennessee Titans War Room - 9:19 p.m. EDT
Titans GM Ruston Webster: I think we're ready to make our pick.
(Underling tugs at Webster's sleeve.)
Webster (cont'd): What is it now?
Underling: Shouldn't we consult His Vileness first?
Webster: (Sighs) Must we?
Underling: The last general manager who didn't consult the master before making his pick is currently wiping a fly's mouth for all of eternity.
Webster: Fine. Where is he, anyway?
Underling: I thought you knew.
Underling 2: I think he said he was going to take care of business at home.
Webster: Ugh. Bring me the long-distance phone.
(Both underlings roll a massive black phone covered with iron spikes into the war room.)
Webster (cont'd): I hate using this phone.
(Hits the lone button on the phone. It rings three times.)
Titans Owner/Supreme Evil Being Bud Adams: This better be important.
Webster: My liege, it's the draft. I was thinking of taking Chance Warmack with our first pick. Do you approve?
Adams: Seriously? Football? My kingdom is under siege and you want to talk about player personnel?! Get some friggin' perspective you little worm!
Webster: Apologies, Your Rottenness. Shall we make the call, sire?
(Door bursts open on the other side of the line.)
Demon: Sire, the rebels have broken down our gates. They've infiltrated the Palace of Enron!
Demon: I said--
Adams: I heard you. (To Webster) I'll have to get back to you. Do what you think is best. You will hang from the palace gates for this treachery, Al Davis!!
(Webster hangs up quickly.)
Webster: Make the call.
NFL Network Anchor Desk - Radio City Music Hall - 9:34 p.m. EDT
Rich Eisen: We go live to the war room for the New Orleans Saints and a man that I'm sure is thrilled to finally get back to the business of football, Head Coach Sean Payton. Sean, how's it feel to be back in the war room?
Sean Payton: It's a great feeling, Rich. I've been keeping busy while I was unjustly prevented from taking part in anything NFL-related, but there's nothing quite like the adrenaline rush of the draft.
Eisen: Sean, you're an offensive-minded coach on a team that desperately needs defensive help. Tell me, how do you go about picking your players on defense? Do you have a hand in it or do you leave that to your defensive coordinator?
Payton: Rich, I'm involved in every single aspect of our draft process, down to the very last player on special t--
Eisen: Excuse me a moment, Coach, but what is that behind you?
(Payton turns and shows a massive dry-erase board full of names with dollar amounts to the right of each name.)
Payton: What is what?
Eisen: That. The big white board.
Payton: Oh, that-that's nothing.
Eisen (squinting): Does that say "potential bounty pool" above the dollar amounts there?
Payton: I have no idea what you're talking about.
Saints GM Mickey Loomis: Sean! You think 20K is too much of a bounty to set for plays made by Barkevious Mingo?
Payton: Um...Rich? I think I'm losing you.
Eisen: Sean, you're on television.
Payton: What? I can't (mouthing words "a word you're saying" while shrugging shoulders.)
Eisen: Coach Payton!
(Payton drops below the view of the camera.)
Eisen: Sean Payton, ladies and gentlemen. We'll be right back.
ESPN Anchor Desk - Radio City Music Hall - 10:07 p.m. EDT
Goodell (on main stage): With the eighteenth overall pick, the Dallas Cowboys select Alec Ogletree. Linebacker, Georgia
Berman: So Ogletree is the pick for the Dallas Football Cowboys. Wi--
Bayless: That's a matter of some opinion. I think they'd be better if they were the Dallas Baseball Cowboys. C'mon, let's discuss this some, Chris.
Berman: With more on the pick, here's the owner of the team, Jerry Jones. Jerry, good to see you again.
Jerrah Jones: And you as well, Chris.
Berman: Jerry, for the 13th consecutive year, your team was touted as a Super Bowl favorite only to come up just short again by completely missing the playoffs...again.
Jerrah: Is there a question coming, Chris?
Berman: No, just pointing that out. Actually, I do have a question. What do you think is missing from this team to finally make a legitimate run in and/or actually make the playoffs?
Jerrah: Well, Chris, we're looking into a lot of different possibilities. One of which I think our fans are really going to enj--
(Sound of a bottle shattering.)
Berman: I'm sorry, Jerry, what was that sound?
Jerrah: It was nothing. As I was saying, our fans should enjoy rooting once again for the greatest team on earth that didn't get into the pla--
Unseen figure: HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!
Berman: What the hell was that?
Jerrah: The air conditioner. It gets kind of warm in here. Anyway--
(Unseen figure wanders into view of camera carrying an open bottle of whiskey.)
Berman: Who is that?
Jerrah: Oh, he's just some temp who will be fired soon.
Berman: Is it because he's not wearing pants?
Jerrah: (Looks back at man without pants.) Among other reasons.
Berman: Speaking of such things. Last season you had two players rung up on DUI charges, one of whom actually killed a fellow teammate when he crashed his car. What are the Cowboys doing to show they're not going to stand for this kind of behavior?
Jerrah: Honestly, I don't see what the problem is here. They were two isolated incidents with very unfortunate consequences. And the Dallas Cowboys do not--
(Sounds of fisticuffs in the background.)
Berman: Jerrah, what's going on there?
Jerrah: Everything's fine. Someone just tripped.
(Two drunker brawlers get in front of Jerrah, both armed with broken beer bottles and lunging at one another with them.)
Jerrah (cont'd): Tripped and broke their root beer bottles.
Third Unseen Man: Hey b-bosssss. I betchu I can balance the-th-these binders on my head. How much you wanna bet, huh? Huh?
Berman: Is anybody sober over there?
Jerrah: Not a one of us. Only reason I'm not sloshed is because I haven't received my daily infusion of virgins' blood yet.
Berman (pinching bridge of nose): Thanks, Jerry. Good luck. We'll be right back.
Houston Texans Draft Party - Houston, Texas - 11:15 p.m. EDT
Rich Lord: Welcome to the Houston Texans draft party live at Reliant Stadium. We're minutes away from learning who the Texans will be taking with their first round pick. Ordinarily we'd have that drip Josh Innes on as my co-host, but I decided that this show would be greatly improved if he were bound and gagged and tossed into the darkest part of the Astrodome. Joining us instead is our own Marc Vandermeer.
Vandermeer: Rich, always good to talk to you.
Lord: Who do you think they'll take with the 27th pick?
Vandermeer: If you'll recall, Andre Johnson a few days ago said he'd be thrilled if the Texans got him some wide receiver help. All I can say is, thank goodness he said something. Maybe now the Texans will actually draft an offensive player.
Lord: The Texans haven't taken an offensive player in the first round since 2008 with Duane Brown, and no skill position player since Andre Johnson all the way back in 2003. Do you think they'll draft a wideout with that pick?
Vandermeer: No. I want to believe it, but I don't think this is the year, much to AJ's disappointment.
Lord: Thanks for the candid analysis. For additional thoughts, let's go to Texans beat writer John McClain to get his thoughts on the Texans. John?
(McClain sits alone in a corner of the stadium and lights a lone white candle upon an altar.)
McClain (sniffling): Please get better quickly. You're the only relevant player to have come out of Baylor in decades. You have to get back to 100%. Please get better quickly, RGIII. Please. Why God, why must good things happen to Baylor alums? First you stick me with this upstart team instead of my beloved Titans and now this? What has Baylor ever done to you? Answer me!
Lord: Oooookay, let's go to a commercial instead.
Houston Texans War Room - 11:17 p.m. EDT
Kubiak: I think we have to go wide receiver in the first this year. Seriously. No kidding around this time.
Rick Smith (half-heartedly): I suppose...
Kubiak: You have a better idea?
Smith: Maybe. (sighs) I think he'd be just dreamy on this team.
Kubiak: Mind sharing who you were thinking of with me?
Andre Johnson: And with me?
Kubiak: 'Dre? What are you doing here?
Johnson: I want help at wide receiver, and I'm not going anywhere until I get it.
(Rick Smith continues staring at his laptop.)
Kubiak: What are you looking at there, Rick?
Smith: Just...a player that I'm in awe of, who is a hero to me and is just awesome to behold.
Johnson: DeAndre Hopkins? It better be DeAndre.
Smith (shaking out of his reverie): Who? No. Not him. Someone much better than that.
Johnson: Keenan Allen?
Smith: No. D.J. Hayden.
(He flips around laptop to show his collage of Hayden pictures)
Smith (cont'd.): Isn't he just the greatest thing?
Kubiak: You've lost your mind, haven't you?
Smith: No. And you will not besmirch D.J. Hayden like that in my presence.
(Johnson stands over Smith's desk.)
Johnson: I want a new wideout, and I want him now.
(Smith looks into Johnson's eyes, then Kubiak's, back to Johnson's. A long pause ensues.)
Smith (sadly): Okay. You win. Hopkins it is.
Johnson: Good. Thanks.
Smith: I'm sorry, D.J. I did the best I could. (sings to himself) Did you ever know that you're my hero? And everything I would like to be? I can fly higher than an eagle...sigh...
ESPN Anchor Desk - Radio City Music Hall - 11:19 p.m. EDT
Berman: DeAndre Hopkins is going to the Bayou City. This is a really tremen--
Bayless: Terrible pick. Simply and utterly terrible. And anyone who thinks this is a good pick is out of their mind.
Berman: Okay, that's it. (Tackles Bayless out of his chair and bashes his head against the floor. Young, Mortensen and Jackson all try to pull Berman off of Bayless.)
(Peanut Gallery begins chanting "Berman! Berman! Berman!"
Berman: Get. (Bash) off (Bash) my (Bash) mutha****ing (Bash) set (Bash)!
(Bayless' eyes roll around in his head before he passes out. The Peanut Gallery cheers raucously.)
NFL Network Anchor Desk - Radio City Music Hall - 11:37 p.m. EDT
Eisen: Now on with us is the head coach of the Niners, Jim Harbaugh. Jim, thanks for coming on.
I'm very excited to be on with you, Rich.
Eisen: So...so it would seem. You just stole one of the best safeties in the draft. How did you and Trent Baalke react when he fell into your lap?
We were, and still are, totally thrilled about it. It's not often a player of this kind comes around and we simply couldn't let him get past us.
Eisen: Um, Coach, to be honest, you don't look all that happy.
What are you talking about? Can't you see I'm very happy!!! I am! I am! I am!
Eisen: Okay! I believe you. It's just that if you were so happy you might...
Eisen: Smile or something? Instead you look like you've got a broom shoved up your backside.
Oh, that! There's a good explanation for that? I DO have a broomstick shoved up there. Been there for years.
Eisen: That would explain a lot.
Eisen: Nevermind. Thanks for the time, Jim.
ESPN Anchor Desk 11:51 p.m. EDT
Berman (holding an ice pack to his head): The first round is now in the books, and most of us (shoots withering glare at Bayless)...
(Bayless cowers and hides behind Steve Young.)
Berman (cont'd.): ...will see you tomorrow for the second and third rounds of the draft. Until then this is Chris Berman and I am ESPN. Good night everybody.