I was settin' here on the porch eatin' a chipped ham sandwich and a gob, and my buddy says, he says, "did yinz know the NFL draft was on the TV tonight?" So I says, yeah, I do. I says I was fixin' to redd up the house and go buy a couple sixers of Iron City and watch to see who the Stillers was gonna draft.
Author's Note #1: I've lived outside western Pennsylvania for the last 27 years. I had to ask him to speak slowly at this point, as my Pittsburghese is a little rusty. I was already wondering what a Philadelphia basketball team and painting the house red had to do with football in Pittsburgh. But it's Mitch, so you never can tell.
So the first guy they pick is 'at Dupree kid from Kentucky. Now 'at's a Stiller, right there. He got him a good motor n'at. He's gonna be the next James Harrison.
Author's Note #2: He was already two Iron Cities into a six-pack when we started talking. I think it affected his judgement. I hope it affected his judgement. But I hope even more that he's right.
I remember when they did the whole draft in two days. They shouldn'ta made it three. I had to change my schedule at the mill so I could be off on Saturday. Roger Goodell needs to neb out and leave good stuff alone.
The next night, I was watchin' at my buddy, Paul's, house. Pittsburgh drafted that Senquez Golson kid. I took one look at him and I says to Paul, I says, "I thought they all had to go through puberty 'fore they was allowed to play in the NFL. He might come up to Rod Woodson's waist, if he stretches hard enough. Kevin Colbert's a jagoff."
Author's Note #3: I do not think Colbert is a jagoff. I do think Roger Goodell needs to "neb out" though. At least I think I do. My copy of the Yinzer Bible arrives Thursday, I'll check it out then.
Then they go and pick some wide receiver. I looked up his highlights on the Internet, and I got excited when I saw him make a fool of some kid from Ole Miss. Then I noticed it was our second-round pick. I chugged another beer when I saw that.
Author's Note #4: Mitch is 5-feet-5inches tall. I'm not sure if he dislikes Golson because he really does think the kid is too short, or if he's jealous that Golson has several inches on him. Either way, Mitch must have been pretty sloshed by the time round three ended Friday night.
I woke up late on Saturday morning and had some dippy eggs and toast. I warshed it down with the rest of an I.C. I don't remember leaving on the table Friday night. My head hurt for some reason.
Author's Note #5: Yup. He was sloshed. Might still have been when he woke up. He was getting there again as he was telling me all this.
I really like that Doran Grant. Reminds me of Duran Duran. Rock on!
Anyway, that Grant hits like he's mad at someone. I'd like to see him blitz Joe Flacco. That'll make the jagoff never wanna throw deep against the Stillers again. I toasted that pick with another Iron City.
So then they go and pick that Jesse James kid. They drafted some kid from the State Pen(n) but no one from Pitt? Looks like he might be good n'at, but still. Go Panthers!
Author's Note #6: That six-pack never even had a chance...
I don't know 'bout that Letterius Walton kid. Looks like he needs a one-month, all-you-can-eat pass to Primanti's or Eat'n Park so he can get in shape.
Author's Note #7: By "in shape" I assume he means "shaped like Casey Hampton". That's the only outcome for someone turned loose with a free pass in Eat'n Park.
That Anthony Chickillo kid is interesting. Kid's got a Ford V-8 with a Daewoo transmission.
Author's Note #8: Two more bottles of Iron City gave their lives for that one sentence. Took him more than three minutes to get it all out. I was beginning to be concerned for his well-being at this point.
Gerod Holliman? He ain't Troy, man. He ain't Troy.
Author's Note #9: There was an awkward silence at this point, as Mitch wept uncontrollably for the next twenty-three minutes, pausing only to finish off the second six-pack. Once he stopped crying, I asked him if he could sum up his thoughts on the entire draft.
The jimmies fell off my ice cream 'cause it was real slippy. I got a jagger in my hand trying to pick 'em all up. Got mad so I threw it all away and just ate some cruds. Then I shot a grinnie with a gumband.
Author's Note #10: At this point I gave up. Either he was so drunk he didn't know what he was saying, or he was just making crap up to screw with me. Knowing Mitch, I'd say the answer is probably, "pass me another Iron City."