The only guys more wrapped up in fantasy than anglers are NFL Draft commentators. I see it as much ado about nothing, but Draft Day is the best fly tying theater imaginable.

There’s nothing to watch other than well coiffed analysts guessing what the coach will pick, then recovering quickly to say, “I told you so” as soon as the pick is in.

Old war movies and the NFL draft have always been massive profit tools for commercial tyer’s; you glance up quickly at the guts scene, or the partially clad heroine getting less clad, then return to wrap tiny hackles on tinier flies.

I do it to avoid eye strain, keeping the TV inline with the vise jaws – allowing me to focus close then focus long, so the eyes don’t fatigue.

It’s the first time Opening Day coincided with the draft that I can remember, as I’d elected to curry favor this weekend for the promise of adventure on the next, I put it to good use.

Mel Kiper shares a lot with Santa Clause, both are famous for a day and the rest of the 364 they’re forgotten. In Kiper’s case, it’s a good thing – as only his ego is larger than his bouffant.

I kept flashing on what it’d be like to fish with Mssr. Kiper, figuring it would be akin to his draft commentary;

“I project he’ll go for an emerger, but he’s got needs at both Hare’s Ear and Coachman, a sparkle pupa would be a nice fit, what with the combination of size and explosive speed.”

“A pale Olive paradun would be a reach at this position, but his last two selections were predictable, the caddis taken in the first round, and the oversized dun – who’d make a great prospect as a spinner…”

It’s sick, I know – but despite the banal drone from the Tube, I still managed to bang out 3 dozen Horner Deer Hair’s (Humpy), his hair reminded me of the need for more fast water dries.

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