Someone's out to get Vince Young. They ignore what he's done on the field, acting as if his Rose Bowl heroics never happened. They trust nothing and no one. It's the NFL draft season, the most paranoid time of year in a paranoid league. That's why there are Wonderlic scores, and rumors of scores, and whispers and secrets and lies. Especially lies. "Once you get to April, you can't believe anything," says Mike McCartney, an agent and onetime personnel director for the Eagles. "Even your best friends in the league lie. At the very least, they'll keep quiet about what they really want to do."
Every year the draft board shifts, thanks to workouts that don't work out, measurements that don't measure up and rumors that won't stop piling up. But this year's draft class-with at least five players who in other years might be taken No. 1 overall-may be more affected by what's not seen on game tape than any group in the past decade. How else can anyone justify choosing one over the other?
And Young won't be the only one on the wrong end of the draft scuttlebutt. Reggie Bush? Durability questions. Matt Leinart? Arm-strength issues. Jay Cutler? Hype. D'Brickashaw Ferguson? Let's see. No holes in this offensive tackle's game. He stayed at Virginia an extra year to soak up fundamentals from longtime NFL coach Al Groh. He answered concerns about his weight by beefing up from 295 pounds to 312 at the combine. But, you know, he's smart. Maybe too smart. He earned a degree in religious studies in three and a half years, has a black belt in karate and has mastered the sax. So, naturally, his dedication is being questioned. He's pulled off the rare double of being underweight and too well-rounded.
Scouts can invent reasons to downgrade even can't-miss Hall of Famers because they know that even the numbers lie. A new book-The Draft: A Year Inside the NFL's Search for Talent, by Pete Williams-recounts how strength trainer Mike Boyle found numerous ways to cheat the combine's physical tests. Need to boost your vertical leap? Flex your lats and depress your shoulder blades when your preleap reach is measured. Then, when you actually jump, your reach is much longer and your vert is three or four inches higher.
Players can't trust anyone either, and not just because of the explosion of Internet sites that traffic in draft rumors. Teams feign interest in players they'll never pick, while refusing to attend the personal workouts of their real love interests. Makes sense. In 2002, the Titans let it be known they wanted Jeremy Shockey. Gamesmanship? Probably. Because the Giants, who coveted the Miami tight end, gave Tennessee a fourth-rounder to swap first-round slots and ensure they got their man.
Is that what's happening with Jay Cutler? At the end of the past college football season, several teams drafting late in the first round had eyes for the Vandy signal-caller, who has talent but not the glitz of Leinart or Young. Then, after Cutler had a good week of practice at the Senior Bowl in late January, teams at the top of the draft loved him too. Or did they? For a bad team in need of picks, dealing away a chance at Cutler to get some extra choices might be worth a faux fling with the QB.
But the real wild card might be Ferguson. Everyone agrees he's a top-five talent, and in a non-Reggie Bush year, he might have been a consensus No. 1. But a lot of what you've heard lately are negatives. "He's not a roadgrader like Orlando Pace." (Of course, since few teams drive-block anymore, that shouldn't be such a big issue.) The craziest knock? "Some people are saying that because he learned a musical instrument he has other interests and he's not committed to football," says an NFL exec who finds the sax allegations hilarious. So does Ferguson, who says, "It's not like I'm Kenny G."
But even to someone as grounded as Ferguson, the silly season "is really taxing." And he's not alone. There's even a hint of insurrection in the air. NFL teams gather a player's height and weight as many as six times during his college career. So at Colorado's pro day, five players, including highly regarded tight end Joe Klopfenstein, opted not to have their height checked yet again. Maybe they're on to something. Ohio State wideout Santonio Holmes caught the flu between the combine in late February and his pro day two weeks later and lost nine pounds. Front-office execs immediately began freaking out over his size.
But when he was weighed again, while visiting the Dolphins in late March, Holmes had regained the weight. And that, at least, is one benefit of the emphasis placed on postseason workouts. Just as any failing is a show of weakness, any improvement is a sign of competitiveness. One NFL insider (who, naturally, refuses to be identified) thinks Young's rumored first Wonderlic intelligence score of six out of 50 will end up helping him. "No matter how low he scored, he took the test again, scored better and showed that maybe he just wasn't prepared for it by his agent." Then, our insider says, people saw Young run and throw well at his pro day, interviewed him again to see what a fine young man he is, looked at video again to see what a game-changer he is and-presto!-no more baggage.
It's almost like the whole thing was orchestrated: Play dumb, then look smart, so that by April you've gotten rid of the bad news and generated momentum, showing yourself to be a great athlete as well as a resilient and sturdy character.
Vince Young. Now there's a guy you can trust.