The NFL Scouting Combine for hopeful rookies-to-be ended Monday in Indianapolis. To have this much fun again, observers should go to a slaughterhouse and watch guys in white coats hang slabs of gore on moving hooks.
The combine is, in this scribe’s opinion, one of the most oddball, meat-on-the-hoof, dehumanizing annual rituals in American society.
Can you imagine young bankers-to-be, carpenters-to-be or — hell, let’s come out and say it — newspaper columnists-to-be marching around half-naked in front of strangers with clipboards and video phones, looking inside their mouths and asking what kind of tree they would be if, indeed, they were a tree?