Twelve NFL teams make the playoffs every year, and for the past five years only the number one and two seeds have even had a hope of sniffing the Super Bowl. Making the playoffs is still an exciting feat, and the pinnacle for any fan. Yet, for the eighteen teams that are not able to make the illustrious playoffs there is only one clear apex: The NFL Draft. Some fans spend their whole year suffering, sitting through hours of savage hits and shameful losses all just for the chance to select one slot higher in this draft. Some teams will even toss away their entire year all for the shot at a single player in the draft. The draft itself is an absolute display of pageantry, a mixture of fashion and fandom. For around fifty straight years the venue was New York, but now the draft has begun traveling America’s largest cultural hubs once again. The event–since 1995–has been held in the largest music halls and theaters, loading the stadium with as many screaming and hopeful fans as possible. Outside of the walls of the loaded stadium around 46 million people tuned in to watch the draft in 2018, a twenty-five percent increase from the previous year, and roping in more viewers than the Stanley Cup Finals. That means roughly 1/7th of the American population at least checked into the draft, and that is not even counting the people who kept up on social media or just checked in after the live event. 

The draft, on paper, should not be such a spectacular event–certainly not an event that eclipses the Stanley Cup Final–but the impact of the draft is what makes it so beautiful. The aforementioned viewing numbers all come from the first day of the NFL draft, which is only one round. 46 million people watched just to see their team draft one or two players at most. 46 million people watched just to see 1/53rd (or 2/53rds maximum) of their potential roster selected. The draft does not even have any action. There is some analysis, some highlights shown, but mostly it is just talking heads leading into a hulking human walking across a stage and donning a jersey that has that player’s name already inscribed on the back (indicating this decision had already been at least partially made, and the stress and spontaneity is more showmanship than anything else). However, to everyone watching that draft this moment is not just a singular moment, but instead potentially a decade of heartbreak or heroics. That single player could become the next All-Pro, the next MVP, or even the next legend to bring your team a superbowl. 

Oddly enough in the current social media era fandom is no longer as fixed. Formerly fandom was dictated by where you were born, or who your parents rooted for, now it is different. Stars have always burned bright, but social media has magnified the flame a hundred fold. NFL stars are no longer just muscle-bound hulks on the screen, but instead real people off the field. Fans can see their highlights no matter what market the player is in due to social media, and a broader reach of television. The draft then becomes an opportunity for a potential new fandom as the fan’s star is taken by a team that perhaps was not their own. 

Fandom, ultimately, is not life or death but to American citizens there is a direct connection between their fandom and their overall happiness. For example, take New Orleans following the Saints victory. The city was ravaged by hurricane Katrina, causing the loss of life and devastation of all residents, but when the Saints beat the Indianapolis Colts in 2010 life changed, hope was at least momentarily restored. Louisiana was able to forget about their tragedy for at least a second and come together around something impractical yet so perfect, a Super Bowl title. That title had to begin somewhere, and it began in the draft when the Saints traded the number four pick (Philip Rivers) for the future New Orleans hero, Drew Brees.

Being a sports fan is not just a label to Americans but instead it is an identity. Nothing equalizes the American person more than a joint fandom–a mutual love or hatred for the same franchise. The draft is where these franchises are created. Whether it be with a can’t-miss number one pick like Peyton Manning or with a feisty sixth round darling like Tom Brady, an NFL team–and their success–is determined by their draft. The NFL especially features a fandom forged in diversity. People from every sect of society can come together around the same team, or in the current NFL can come together against one team (the Patriots). Specifically cities with successful franchises become attractions, and hubs of economic potential and growth. 

Economically the draft is a smashing success. The draft could be nothing more than names on a board, but instead it is a pageant. The NFL barely has to forfeit any money or potential injury, and can create a product that attracts fifty million viewers and countless dollars in advertising. The draft is essentially one long ad, because there is no action. There are ten minutes in between every pick made, and that ten minutes is loaded with commercials, sponsors, and potential revenue. The players themselves can even be a walking sponsorship, representing the cutting edge in style, brands, or anything else they choose to stitch onto themselves. 

 In a sport that revolves around violence, and is played in masks, the draft is a pleasant break. The draft provides more than just hope for fans, but the chance to fall in love. Players are without their pads and their helmet, and for once entirely human. In 2015, Danny Shelton went from being an unknown behemoth of a nose tackle with a gorgeous head of hair to a household name with his massive bear hug of Commissioner Goodell. The draft gives any player like Shelton their moment to be a star, and then capitalizes upon that newly found fandom that has been created by an event as simple as simple as a draft.