Anything that gets the adrenaline moving like a 440 volt blast in a copper bathtub is good for the reflexes and keeps the veins free of cholesterol…

-Hunter S. Thompson

I miss poker. Haven’t played since DFOCon 23, through lack of time and spare energy.

Everyone has their own grand philosophical take on poker, but one aspect I feel gets overlooked: the endgame. Get up from the table while everyone still has their dignity at least somewhat intact. You weighed them up, strung them out, took their money and got the rush of feeling Very Clever. No need to rub it in.

I ramble on about the subject for two reasons:

1. Because Leonard Cohen’s “The Stranger Song” and Kenny Rogers’ “The Gambler” both came up on my random stream today, and

2. Because we have entered the phase of the pre-Draft calendar known as “Liars’ Season”.

Liars’ Season is where every GM tries to mislead his fellows regarding draft intentions, while simultaneously being completely credulous of those same falsehoods being thrown out by other teams. It’s like every one of them sat down at the table and thinks they have invented a brilliant new strategic tool called “bluffing.”

I exaggerate, of course- everyone is aware of the quantity of misinformation, but each GM thinks they are clever enough to sort the Real Deal from the bullshit. And the road of NFL history is littered with the corpses of such GMs, mute* and grotesque monuments to how often that belief is dead fucking wrong.

*Mostly mute. For the life of me, I can’t understand why media outlets would employ folks like Matt Millen or Mike Tannenbaum to talk about jobs that they clearly misunderstood on a basic level.

My favorite example is still Mitch Trubisky. The Bears gave two third round picks and a fourth to San Francisco to move up one spot to draft Trubisky. As far as anyone can tell, absolutely no one was trying to jump ahead of them for Trubisky. Hell, the Niners thought they were making the move to draft Solomon Thomas, who was the Niners’ intended target. But like Dwayne Hoover in Breakfast of Champions, the seed of a stray idea fell upon the fertile, diseased soil of Ryan Pace’s psyche. It bloomed, and that’s how San Francisco ended up with three-time All-Pro Fred Warner.

Combine’s over. Pro Days are over. Players are still doing their “official visits” with teams, but the overall impressions are already set. In the absence of compelling last-minute “our guy was arrested on six counts of felony weasel-smuggling in Finland” red flags, the draft boards should be set.

And yet, they won’t be. The media, who desperately needs to fill the next ten days with Content, will be more than happy to connive with teams (or at least play the guileless patsy) who want to convince each other to give up draft capital unnecessarily. Dollars to donuts the persistent “New England really likes JJ McCarthy” rumors are being spread by Arizona and/or the Chargers, because they are going to get more (and better) offers if teams think they have a shot at Drake Maye or Jayden Daniels than if McCarthy is the top QB on the board after Pick 3.

And it might work. Joe Schoen is but a man. If he hears often enough from enough people that he has a chance to draft a Real Live Boy to replace the $160 million block of wood on the roster…maybe he cracks. Maybe the Broncos start turning tricks on the side to raise the scratch necessary to move up. Maybe Arizona demands the trade be executed before the draft, and some poor schmuck gets stuck having to pretend they intended to mortgage the farm for Marvin Harrison Jr.

[B]ut too many adrenaline rushes in any given time span has the same effect on the nervous system as too many electro-shock treatments are said to have on the brain: after a while you start burning out the circuits. When a jackrabbit gets addicted to road-running, its only a matter of time before he gets smashed.

-HST

Anyway. I’ll have the Final Mock Draft in this space next week, so we can all see if I fall prey to the same brainworms as everyone else.

NFL News:

-DeVonta Smith got Paid. The young wideout got his fifth year option picked up for 2025, and then a three year, $75 million extension on top. It’s probably a good deal for everyone involved:

1  The Eagles get stability. They have two years before they have to restructure or release AJ Brown ($40 million cap hit in 2026) and Smith showed his rookie year that he can hold down WR1 duties.

2. Smith gets an assurance of being paid at least close to market value until his Age 30 season. While he has proven remarkably durable in his first three years, Smith is still playing about 25-35 pounds lighter than the average corner and safety. Injuries (especially lower body injuries) can happen to anyone, but would be especially devastating to the man they call “The Slim Reaper.”

Including the fifth year option, the deal is broadly equivalent to the one Tennessee gave Calvin Ridley. The differences, obviously, are that the Eagles know Smith works in their scheme, have a legitimate QB throwing the ball, and Smith isn’t balanced on the precipice of a lifetime ban if he fucks around with anything gambling-adjacent. So well done, Iggles.

-OJ Simpson is still dead. So we got that going for us.

-Chiefs are likely looking for two wide receivers in the draft. Second year man Rashee Rice, the lone bright spot in Kansas City’s receiver room last year, was charged with six (6) felonies in connection with a high-speed-drag-race-cum-multicar-accident, as well as one civil suit already.

Dashcam video from another car is here.

Rice was driving a rented Lamborghini Urus (big ugly SUV cash grab, if you are unfamiliar) and a friend of his from SMU football was driving a Corvette on Saturday early evening, when they apparently decided to go Fast & Furious, dodging and weaving through traffic at over 115 mph. Now, the reason why they use professional stunt drivers and extensive choreography for those films was ably demonstrated by these fuckers, who lost control and took four other cars with them. They then fled the scene, with Rice leaving 10 grams of marijuana and a Chiefs playbook in the car.

Here at DFO, we take police reports and civil filings with some grain of salt. But this looks like the vehicular equivalent of waving a gun around and wounding a bunch of random bystanders.

Obviously, there are echoes of Henry Ruggs and Britt Reid. Thankfully, this bullshit did not result in any fatalities, but I give Rice little credit for what looks like a case of extraordinary luck.

Disappointingly but unsurprisingly, Andy Reid has gone with the now-standard “let the legal system take it’s course” response, allowing Rice to participate by Zoom in offseason activities like anyone else. Patrick Mahomes has been working out with Rice, and says he expects to continue doing so.

So listen: I’m normally all in favor of letting the legal system take its course before adverse employment action. And in many of these cases where there are allegations but the evidence hasn’t been fleshed out, it is likely the only appropriate response.

But there’s tape. There’s an admission by Rice. There’s an eight year-old named Ariel somewhere in Kansas City who should be a living symbol to the Chiefs and Reid about the human cost of this behavior.

Let’s say they do “let the legal system take its course” and Rice gets a plea deal all the way down to misdemeanor reckless driving. Probation. Driving classes.

Does that change what we saw?

I struggle with this. Part of me is screaming that this is unfair- that employers are not police or parents or judges. That I’m a product of Puritan America, where people who do wrong should not only be punished but also ostracized. That cutting Rice off from his major source of income mostly hurts the people who have damages they need to collect.

But here we are. I don’t know how, as an organization, you can ask fans to cheer for a guy like this. But they had no problem with trotting Tyreek out there, so I suppose they’ll get comfortable with Rice for as long as he’s productive.

-Noted fuckhead Deshaun Watson says he’s back to throwing full speed. Hopefully he’s back on the field soon so that some linebacker can hit him so hard his bones turn to a fine powder.