Innocuous Urinal Chat with Bill Parcells

My Innocuous Urinal Chat with Bill Parcells
By Andrew Davenport, Yahoo! Contributor NetworkNov 2, 3:12 pm EDT

When you're an aspiring NFL scout, the Senior Bowl—hosted annually in Mobile, AL—is your one-in-a-million shot to make an impression with an NFL personnel executive. Traditionally, it's the one event that is widely attended by entry level scouts and general managers alike; teams want as many eyes in attendance as possible.

What separates the Senior Bowl from other preliminary NFL Draft events (such as the Scouting Combine) is the fact that it is open to the public—onlookers generally a mixture of NFL personnel, fans, and (yours truly) aspiring scouts. Throughout the week of practices, you will generally mix and mingle—or "casually" brush shoulders—with faces that you ordinarily are accustomed to only seeing on TV.

During my attendance of one of the Senior Bowl practices in January 2010, I had an awkward, albeit unforgettable, trip to the men's room that for the first time in my life left me starstruck. Typically the two sides (North and South) practice at separate times, and those in attendance are left with some time to pass between practice sessions. Often this time period is used to eat, exchange opinions, and take care of biological necessities. For me, it happened to be the latter on this day.

I walked into a surprisingly empty men's room and placed my binder full of scouting notes on the sink next to the urinal. I stood tall with my eyes closed as I brainstormed my thoughts on some of the prospects—that's when it happened. The door swung open and an older, disturbingly large, spry man walked into the restroom and placed himself at the adjacent urinal. It was NFL legend Bill Parcells.

"Never take a break, do you?" he said to me as the end of the week approached. "No sir," I replied.

"The Graham kid, where would you take him?" he asked in reference to then University of Miami tight end prospect Jimmy Graham(notes).

The entire week you spend at the Senior Bowl, and all the hours of preparation are for exactly moments like this. You wait for someone with any type of authority or pull within an organization to ask you a question. I knew everything about Jimmy Graham; his height, weight, birthday, 40 time coming out of high school, basketball history, average daily protein intake, and his then rocky relationship with his biological mother.

On this day though, I kept my answer brief.

"No later than 64, offenses are spreading out and teams need a guy like him to play the open seam," I said with profound clarity.

"An answer like that will get you unemployed in this league," he fired back as he moved to the sink to wash his hands.

I was shell shocked. For all the knowledge I had, I could offer no rebuttal. Was my answer too brief? Was he not high on Graham? My opportunity came and passed and I failed my test miserably, so all I could do was force a smile in response. And then came the wisdom.

"You never grade a developmental tight end in the second round. The production ceiling for that position is low; so if it works out, you did your job. If he fails, you're the guy that used a second round pick on a tight end. That grade will never get you promoted," he said as he left the restroom and offered no opportunity for a response.

For him, it was a casual conversation with a young guy that he probably thought very little of. For me, it was a rude, but remarkably enlightening, awakening into the life of an NFL personnel man—a life that I desperately wanted.