It appears they're going ahead with their elaborate prank.
From The Commish:
"The 2012 SBL Draft is set for Sunday April 1. That's two weeks from tomorrow!
The time: 12:30 p.m. PDT and MST (for our Arizona contingent), 2:30 p.m. CDT (for our Texas representative), 12:20 a.m. Monday-or-whatever-the-f***-time-it-is in the Persian Gulf."
So there it is. Draft Day. April 1. April Fool's Day. Who knows what wonders lay beyond?
Whatever happens, it'll get live-blogged right here. The whole thing. Well, unless it's a wasp's nest. Then I'm out.
I'm allergic.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Potential Draft Day? Or April Fool's Day Prank?
So there was this e-mail, and now there's this rumor and let's just say they're contradictory.
First, the crucial details of a preliminary e-mail from The Commissioner:
"We're looking again at a daytime draft, which seemed to work best for the most people last year. For the sake of discussion, let's run this date up the flag pole and see who salutes:
Sunday, April 1, 12:30 p.m., at Gregg's house in Chino Hills. That's three days before the Wednesday opener."
Now, the rumor:
Sunday, April 1 will not be the date of the 2012 SBL Draft. Why? Priviledged few may know.
Could it be something rational, like a conficting work schedule? Hmm.
Or could it be something more sinister? Something from the crusty depths of a mind so demented, it would actually sense joy from interrupting an otherwise prolific Sunday afternoon?
Personally, I'd prefer a week night. Not that anyone gives a rip.
First, the crucial details of a preliminary e-mail from The Commissioner:
"We're looking again at a daytime draft, which seemed to work best for the most people last year. For the sake of discussion, let's run this date up the flag pole and see who salutes:
Sunday, April 1, 12:30 p.m., at Gregg's house in Chino Hills. That's three days before the Wednesday opener."
Now, the rumor:
Sunday, April 1 will not be the date of the 2012 SBL Draft. Why? Priviledged few may know.
Could it be something rational, like a conficting work schedule? Hmm.
Or could it be something more sinister? Something from the crusty depths of a mind so demented, it would actually sense joy from interrupting an otherwise prolific Sunday afternoon?
Personally, I'd prefer a week night. Not that anyone gives a rip.
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