General Manager Ted Sundquist takes the podium first and introduces his scouting department. We don’t see these guys often. And they don’t see anything but football. They’re overweight and underf*cked. Sometimes they stand around and watch practice but mostly they are regional scouts scattered around the country, in charge of gathering information on college prospects. I sit in my chair and glare at one of the scouts named Bobby, hoping he’ll notice me noticing him. His father is also a scout. I didn’t know who Bobby was until I got back from Europe. My old Menlo coach Dave Muir is coaching at Idaho State now, and Bobby came to campus to scout one of their players for the upcoming draft. When Dave asked Bobby about me, Bobby chuckled and said I wasn’t worth a sh*t: the number five receiver at best, probably won’t make the team. Dave is feisty and very loyal. He told Bobby to go f*ck himself. I knew Bobby knew I knew. I tried to get him to look in my eyes but he wouldn’t. I always find it funny when a scout says a professional athlete is a piece of sh*t. By his own standards, he must be a Mount Kilimanjaro-size pile of sh*t.
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