The NFL Draft has always been a holiday for me. I can't remember a time in the past 5 years that I haven't at least watched the first round. (The last two years I've watched the entire day one which was previously 3 rounds.) I was hoping to attempt to watch the entire thing "buzzer to buzzer" for the first time this year until I realized a scheduling conflict would mean I was at the bottom of the Grand Canyon on the day of the draft. I would have backed out but I had already paid the money and was already 5 weeks into my "training hikes". I like to think a little part of me died that day.

But this isn't meant to be a emotional rollercoaster so let me get to the point. At the bottom of the Canyon there is a payphone which I used to call my family to get all the updates. I called around 4:00 pacific time to get the update for the first round. I was very pleased to hear that our blueprint for world domination had gone so far as planned. We got our franchise LT just like we had hoped and to put the cherry on top, all the WRs, which had been our 2nd option in my mind if Clady was gone, had fallen to the 2nd round. I told my father I'd call back in about two hours to get the round.

Immediately I began to fantasize about having both my ideal player at our position, Clady, and my backup plan DeSean Jackson. I thought this pick made perfect sense. We have had probably the worst return game in all the NFL in the last 3-4 seasons and that's what Jackson did best. I also thought he could be the perfect compliment to the big, overly-powerful Brandon Marshall.

Still in my state of "Orange and Blue Nirvana" I called back two hours later with thoughts of purchising a Jackson Broncos jersey. Skipping the reading of each pick in order, I asked my Dad right away who did we draft. That's when I heard the name Eddie Royal. (Honestly this might have been the first time I even heard of this guy.) Since we were 12 picks in the 2nd, I was just guessing everyone had traded up to get all this big name wideouts who were still on the board. So I asked my dad to read of all the selections.

My Dad: "St. Louis, Donnie Avery. Washington, Devin Thomas..."

Me thinking to myself: "I guess I can see Avery going there. And there goes Thomas. The teams are trading up. The flood gates are open."

My Dad: "...Jordy Nelson to the Packers......"

Me Still Thinking: "Wow the Packers traded up to get Nelson. At least get Sweed or Jackson. Do the Packers even need a WR?....."

My Dad: "....Buffalo got James Hardy, Denver got Royal..."

Finally Me Speaking: " Dad did you skip DeSean Jackson. Look for the name DeSean Jackson."

My Dad: "Are you calling me slow or something? Hold on a second... Let's see... It looks like the Eagles got him with pick number 49."

I got him to read me Royal's scouting report, which I have to admit made me drool a teeny bit, before saying my goodbyes in a state of shock. Why would we pass up on DeSean and ruin my diabolical plot to rule the world?

When I got home late Sunday night, all dusty and dirty from hiking out, I rushed to my computer to read up on my new best friend Eddie Royal. Trying ignore my parents pleas about my foul odor and resemblance to Pigpen, I tried to rationalize this pick through many draft analysists. I still feel, even though Royal was not a bad pick and should turn out to be a good pro for us, that we should have grabbed DeSean. I automatically went from hoping DeSean would be star to hoping he would be nothing more than a failure. I'm the first to admit that this is quite evil but then again, I'm the guy with the Philip Rivers voodoo doll.