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Live Drafters


Brentastic
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So the day is finally here! My favorite day of the year when my big money league has our live draft. 12 guys scattered across America all meet in a tiny little farm town called Maquon, IL. The setup is sweet - it wasn't always like this but has been for the last 4 years or so. One of our league-mates owns about 750 acres of land called 'Fun Acres'.. We do the draft in a tractor barn sort of like this one. During the drat, there will be about 50 or more 4 wheelers buzzing over the land's vintage trails while turkeys and ribs are prepared in the smoker.

 

When the draft finally ends around 6:00PM, the party is just getting started. We will dig in to the feast of food and then a live band will play from about 7:30PM until about 1 or 2 in the AM. Herb and booze will be flowing from the get-go along with moonshine and absinthe. There will be a fair share of fireworks and a bonfire that is only good for keeping away mosquitos (gonna be hot as hell today). Drunk rednecks will be full-throttlng their 4 wheelers late in the night as well as firing pistols into the midnight sky.

 

So that's what I will be doing today and tonight. What do some of you others do for the greatest day of the year??

 

Good luck to all my fellow huddlers during your drafts this weekend :wacko:

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Somewhere in the OP is a subtle brag buried in there.

 

We do a ring of couches, TV, and a keg/smoking deck. Wifi-central and row of tables and extension cords.

 

 

subtle?

 

I just hope he doesn't take Hightower in the 3rd round

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My work league drafting Wed Night. It's a 14 team league, and the trash talking starts as we show up for work. Then around 5:30 we all convene in one of the conference rooms order in Pizza and Beer and just talk SHAM WOW! and draft for 3-4 hours.......

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Only one of my 3 leagues was a live, in person draft. We had it in the private room at one of my restaurants on a Sunday afternoon when we were closed. I hooked up some mole poblano and braised short ribs in salsa verde for the mid draft meal and scattered chips, salsa and guac around the table to munch on during the draft.

 

The room has a 60" flat screen and I created a reasonably nice Excel spreadsheet to track rosters and remaining budgets per team (it was an auction). We all sat in a horseshoe around a large, board-room style table and a good friend of mine who knows the game offered to be auctioneer. He did a great job, "Do I hear 20? Do I hear 20?" That sort of thing. Nice touch. So, beer on tap, good food, and a somewhat slick set up made for a nice draft.

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as well as firing pistols into the midnight sky.

 

 

same thing.

minus the live band and absinthe.

and minus the smoker and barn.

and minus the 4 wheelers and 750 acres.

 

 

at least you still got the firing pistols going on, so that's gotta be fun. :wacko:

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We did the electronic draft board for the 1st time this year. 55" TV with the draft room on RT Sports. 1/2 the drafters had computers with them. It made more fun for the commish. Its the way to go! Everything else was the same. Beer with good friends and some good stories.

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At the stroke of midnight, 'neath the full moon's glow we mount mighty stallions, shirtless and musky, full gallop we ride through thicketed woods and brambled forrest. Steads frothed from a harrowed ride we dismount near a moonlit brook. Waiting there are seven girls of village, each pledged from the age of enlightenment to serve the Moonglow Dozen. We are they.

 

A refreshing bath in the brook of Solomon, we are then escorted to an alter of granite and moss. Ale is served whilst we are robed in silken capes. Our feet soaked in Hiberian Mountain Goat's milk. Twelve torches are lit. A chant is started, I can't speak it here, the chant enters it's seventh hour and the "state" is achieved.

 

Torches extinguished, stallions rested, maidens waiting.

 

A arrow ablaze is fired into the dawn's yawning sky, a series of twelve 200 year old oaks be thine target. The one that is struck and now on fire determines the number one overall pick. The tree is doused and the flame nears it's foreseen death. That tree shall be next years torches and feasting table.

 

To a lake we ride, a great barge our destination, comfortable beds and yes, more mead, awaits our gullets. A band of blind Scotsmen, for they may not know our ways, plays an unknown tune as the sun reaches it's daytime zenith. The old Sole's beam strikes a set of optics revealing a hidden entrance to Man Hole Mountain. We're trying to get that name changed. Into Man Hole we crawl until a great orifice is reached. At first we crawl slowly, but the anticipation of draft day makes us delve faster and faster, deeper and deeper. The hall is reached by the dimming of the day's sun, and we rest.

 

Bison, Elk, Tamarin, and Solenoden is prepared. More spirits, music, and loving abounds. The Scotsmen are led out and released. The maidens are led out and they wait. The Moonglow twelve are ready to draft.

 

And...We...Do...Hazzah!!! It is done...

 

Sometime we use a chat room or my basement. But we prefer the other.

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At the stroke of midnight, 'neath the full moon's glow we mount mighty stallions, shirtless and musky, full gallop we ride through thicketed woods and brambled forrest. Steads frothed from a harrowed ride we dismount near a moonlit brook. Waiting there are seven girls of village, each pledged from the age of enlightenment to serve the Moonglow Dozen. We are they.

 

A refreshing bath in the brook of Solomon, we are then escorted to an alter of granite and moss. Ale is served whilst we are robed in silken capes. Our feet soaked in Hiberian Mountain Goat's milk. Twelve torches are lit. A chant is started, I can't speak it here, the chant enters it's seventh hour and the "state" is achieved.

 

Torches extinguished, stallions rested, maidens waiting.

 

A arrow ablaze is fired into the dawn's yawning sky, a series of twelve 200 year old oaks be thine target. The one that is struck and now on fire determines the number one overall pick. The tree is doused and the flame nears it's foreseen death. That tree shall be next years torches and feasting table.

 

To a lake we ride, a great barge our destination, comfortable beds and yes, more mead, awaits our gullets. A band of blind Scotsmen, for they may not know our ways, plays an unknown tune as the sun reaches it's daytime zenith. The old Sole's beam strikes a set of optics revealing a hidden entrance to Man Hole Mountain. We're trying to get that name changed. Into Man Hole we crawl until a great orifice is reached. At first we crawl slowly, but the anticipation of draft day makes us delve faster and faster, deeper and deeper. The hall is reached by the dimming of the day's sun, and we rest.

 

Bison, Elk, Tamarin, and Solenoden is prepared. More spirits, music, and loving abounds. The Scotsmen are led out and released. The maidens are led out and they wait. The Moonglow twelve are ready to draft.

 

And...We...Do...Hazzah!!! It is done...

 

Sometime we use a chat room or my basement. But we prefer the other.

 

You should sell the screen rights to your post...destined to be an epic

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At the stroke of midnight, 'neath the full moon's glow we mount mighty stallions, shirtless and musky, full gallop we ride through thicketed woods and brambled forrest. Steads frothed from a harrowed ride we dismount near a moonlit brook. Waiting there are seven girls of village, each pledged from the age of enlightenment to serve the Moonglow Dozen. We are they.

 

A refreshing bath in the brook of Solomon, we are then escorted to an alter of granite and moss. Ale is served whilst we are robed in silken capes. Our feet soaked in Hiberian Mountain Goat's milk. Twelve torches are lit. A chant is started, I can't speak it here, the chant enters it's seventh hour and the "state" is achieved.

 

Torches extinguished, stallions rested, maidens waiting.

 

A arrow ablaze is fired into the dawn's yawning sky, a series of twelve 200 year old oaks be thine target. The one that is struck and now on fire determines the number one overall pick. The tree is doused and the flame nears it's foreseen death. That tree shall be next years torches and feasting table.

 

To a lake we ride, a great barge our destination, comfortable beds and yes, more mead, awaits our gullets. A band of blind Scotsmen, for they may not know our ways, plays an unknown tune as the sun reaches it's daytime zenith. The old Sole's beam strikes a set of optics revealing a hidden entrance to Man Hole Mountain. We're trying to get that name changed. Into Man Hole we crawl until a great orifice is reached. At first we crawl slowly, but the anticipation of draft day makes us delve faster and faster, deeper and deeper. The hall is reached by the dimming of the day's sun, and we rest.

 

Bison, Elk, Tamarin, and Solenoden is prepared. More spirits, music, and loving abounds. The Scotsmen are led out and released. The maidens are led out and they wait. The Moonglow twelve are ready to draft.

 

And...We...Do...Hazzah!!! It is done...

 

Sometime we use a chat room or my basement. But we prefer the other.

:lol::tup::wacko:

 

Sounds like "The SOng Remains the Same" Movie by Led Zep!!!

Edited by Scooby's Hubby
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So the day is finally here! My favorite day of the year when my big money league has our live draft. 12 guys scattered across America all meet in a tiny little farm town called Maquon, IL. The setup is sweet - it wasn't always like this but has been for the last 4 years or so. One of our league-mates owns about 750 acres of land called 'Fun Acres'.. We do the draft in a tractor barn sort of like this one. During the drat, there will be about 50 or more 4 wheelers buzzing over the land's vintage trails while turkeys and ribs are prepared in the smoker.

 

When the draft finally ends around 6:00PM, the party is just getting started. We will dig in to the feast of food and then a live band will play from about 7:30PM until about 1 or 2 in the AM. Herb and booze will be flowing from the get-go along with moonshine and absinthe. There will be a fair share of fireworks and a bonfire that is only good for keeping away mosquitos (gonna be hot as hell today). Drunk rednecks will be full-throttlng their 4 wheelers late in the night as well as firing pistols into the midnight sky.

 

So that's what I will be doing today and tonight. What do some of you others do for the greatest day of the year??

 

Good luck to all my fellow huddlers during your drafts this weekend :wacko:

 

Pappaw, you better hide the Sheep :tup:

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Only one of my 3 leagues was a live, in person draft. We had it in the private room at one of my restaurants on a Sunday afternoon when we were closed. I hooked up some mole poblano and braised short ribs in salsa verde for the mid draft meal and scattered chips, salsa and guac around the table to munch on during the draft.

 

The room has a 60" flat screen and I created a reasonably nice Excel spreadsheet to track rosters and remaining budgets per team (it was an auction). We all sat in a horseshoe around a large, board-room style table and a good friend of mine who knows the game offered to be auctioneer. He did a great job, "Do I hear 20? Do I hear 20?" That sort of thing. Nice touch. So, beer on tap, good food, and a somewhat slick set up made for a nice draft.

 

Let me know when there's an opening in this league.

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At the stroke of midnight, 'neath the full moon's glow we mount mighty stallions, shirtless and musky, full gallop we ride through thicketed woods and brambled forrest. Steads frothed from a harrowed ride we dismount near a moonlit brook. Waiting there are seven girls of village, each pledged from the age of enlightenment to serve the Moonglow Dozen. We are they.

 

A refreshing bath in the brook of Solomon, we are then escorted to an alter of granite and moss. Ale is served whilst we are robed in silken capes. Our feet soaked in Hiberian Mountain Goat's milk. Twelve torches are lit. A chant is started, I can't speak it here, the chant enters it's seventh hour and the "state" is achieved.

 

Torches extinguished, stallions rested, maidens waiting.

 

A arrow ablaze is fired into the dawn's yawning sky, a series of twelve 200 year old oaks be thine target. The one that is struck and now on fire determines the number one overall pick. The tree is doused and the flame nears it's foreseen death. That tree shall be next years torches and feasting table.

 

To a lake we ride, a great barge our destination, comfortable beds and yes, more mead, awaits our gullets. A band of blind Scotsmen, for they may not know our ways, plays an unknown tune as the sun reaches it's daytime zenith. The old Sole's beam strikes a set of optics revealing a hidden entrance to Man Hole Mountain. We're trying to get that name changed. Into Man Hole we crawl until a great orifice is reached. At first we crawl slowly, but the anticipation of draft day makes us delve faster and faster, deeper and deeper. The hall is reached by the dimming of the day's sun, and we rest.

 

Bison, Elk, Tamarin, and Solenoden is prepared. More spirits, music, and loving abounds. The Scotsmen are led out and released. The maidens are led out and they wait. The Moonglow twelve are ready to draft.

 

And...We...Do...Hazzah!!! It is done...

 

Sometime we use a chat room or my basement. But we prefer the other.

 

You had me at Man Hole Mountan. :sigh:

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My local is today at my buddy's house. We hold it outside by his pool so swimming, drinking, tons of food and plenty of Josh Gordon for all. I'm making my famous Nuclear Wings of Death for everyone, about 200 total. Also about 5 years ago I went to a restaurant /bar auction for businesses that have gone under and bought a 2 flavor frozen margarita machine. So the Patron lime and strawberry margaritas are always a big hit by the pool especially if you're downing my wings :wacko:.

 

Really as I've grown older and life as a father/husband/homeowner pretty much takes up most of my time (besides surfing and bike riding) I can honestly say that draft day is one of THE most fun, and looking forward to days, of the year. No wives or kids or phone ringing off the hook. Just fun with the boys, great ball busting and a stellar day to be had. I've been up since 6:30 this morning getting things ready. I'm excited like it was Christmas when I was a kid.

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At the stroke of midnight, 'neath the full moon's glow we mount mighty stallions, shirtless and musky, full gallop we ride through thicketed woods and brambled forrest. Steads frothed from a harrowed ride we dismount near a moonlit brook. Waiting there are seven girls of village, each pledged from the age of enlightenment to serve the Moonglow Dozen. We are they.

 

A refreshing bath in the brook of Solomon, we are then escorted to an alter of granite and moss. Ale is served whilst we are robed in silken capes. Our feet soaked in Hiberian Mountain Goat's milk. Twelve torches are lit. A chant is started, I can't speak it here, the chant enters it's seventh hour and the "state" is achieved.

 

Torches extinguished, stallions rested, maidens waiting.

 

A arrow ablaze is fired into the dawn's yawning sky, a series of twelve 200 year old oaks be thine target. The one that is struck and now on fire determines the number one overall pick. The tree is doused and the flame nears it's foreseen death. That tree shall be next years torches and feasting table.

 

To a lake we ride, a great barge our destination, comfortable beds and yes, more mead, awaits our gullets. A band of blind Scotsmen, for they may not know our ways, plays an unknown tune as the sun reaches it's daytime zenith. The old Sole's beam strikes a set of optics revealing a hidden entrance to Man Hole Mountain. We're trying to get that name changed. Into Man Hole we crawl until a great orifice is reached. At first we crawl slowly, but the anticipation of draft day makes us delve faster and faster, deeper and deeper. The hall is reached by the dimming of the day's sun, and we rest.

 

Bison, Elk, Tamarin, and Solenoden is prepared. More spirits, music, and loving abounds. The Scotsmen are led out and released. The maidens are led out and they wait. The Moonglow twelve are ready to draft.

 

And...We...Do...Hazzah!!! It is done...

 

Sometime we use a chat room or my basement. But we prefer the other.

:long, slow clap of the deepest and most sincere reverence:

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I'm still looking for a live draft with card girls for rounds and/or strippers. Beer and food are just a minor distraction.

we used to have a league where two girls would bring you your handwritten picks on a notecard for you. This was 94 and before we went online...

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