In lamenting the NFL Draft, Will Leitch became the meme.
You know, the one. It’s an all-out party, the coolest thing ever, and there’s one guy in the corner grumbling about how much it actually sucks.
Yeah, that guy.
https://t.co/CS54y8j3Sv pic.twitter.com/d6DUjGEOj1
— Mike Kash (@FFMikeKash) April 22, 2025
For New York Magazine’s Intelligencer, Leitch wrote, “The NFL Draft Is Actually Boring as Hell.” It didn’t exactly earn him a hero’s welcome. Because for most fans, the draft is one of the most electric events on the football calendar.
To Leitch, though, it’s an overproduced spreadsheet readout dressed up as prime-time TV. Strip away the lights, the music, the made-for-broadcast glitz, and you’re left with executives reading names off cue cards. No action. No competition. Just a highly televised bureaucracy.
It’s the most thrilling non-sporting sporting event in history, but even that magic is wearing thin thanks to overzealous coverage and a cottage industry of insiders spoiling every pick before the commissioner can hit the stage. The drama disappears, sacrificed at the altar of ego and the obsession with being first.
That’s not Leitch’s point, though.
He argues that the draft’s real appeal isn’t about the event itself. It’s about the NFL’s uncanny ability to turn even the most routine moments into a three-day spectacle. The league doesn’t just sell football; it sells the entire idea of football. And to Leitch, the draft feels like Exhibit A.
We’re going to do the honors of taking the opposing viewpoint. The NFL Draft is actually cool.
Where Leitch might see a glorified list reveal, many fans and analysts see something far more layered. The NFL Draft is the ultimate intersection of strategy, hope, and high-stakes decisions. For teams and fan bases alike, the draft can chart the course of a franchise for years to come. Each pick holds potential.
To the die-hard fan, it’s not about whether there’s gameplay; it’s about team-building. It’s always been about team-building. The months of scouting reports, mock drafts, and combine coverage culminate in this multi-day chess match. But what Leitch misses is that the NFL Draft isn’t just flashy for the sake of being flashy.
It’s meaningful. It always has been.
It’s meaningful for the prospects and their families. It very well could be one of the most important nights of their lives. You have to remember that years of work, sacrifice, and uncertainty are all about to be paid off with a name called on live TV and an opportunity to create generational wealth.
That matters, no matter how glossy the production around it gets.
Of course, the draft isn’t perfect; it’s far from it.
The all-remote 2020 NFL Draft broke the mold in some positive ways, bringing a more intimate, personal feel to the proceedings during the COVID-19 pandemic. But it also hit a new low in how networks handled the stories of prospects, veering sharply into uncomfortable territory.
That year, both ESPN and NFL Network were widely criticized for leaning too hard into what many called “trauma porn” — detailing painful family histories and personal tragedies in real time, often without much context or sensitivity. The most infamous example? Tee Higgins’ mother’s past struggles with drug addiction were casually dropped into a graphic like it was just another stat.
It felt less like storytelling and more cringeworthy, out of place, and completely missing the moment.
The backlash was swift. ESPN initially defended the approach, saying it helped “introduce the human side of the players.” But even internally, that defense didn’t hold. Senior coordinating producer Seth Markman later apologized to the Higgins family and, in a 2023 New York Times feature, admitted the network had to tone things down and find a better balance in the future.
So yes, the draft has its flaws. It’s imperfect, sometimes tone-deaf, and occasionally bloated.
But it works.
So, why is it must-watch TV?
Leitch isn’t entirely off base. To the casual fan, someone who doesn’t live and die with mock drafts or refresh their team’s depth chart on a Tuesday in February, the NFL Draft can come across as slow, an overly hyped meeting that could’ve been an email. And maybe that’s the voice Leitch is trying to channel. Perhaps he’s trying to be the voice of the outsider looking in, wondering what all the fuss is about while everyone else is glued to the screen.
But here’s the thing, and the true failure of what he doesn’t seem to understand: the magic of the draft doesn’t come from the action. That’s because there isn’t any. It was never about watching a game unfold. It’s about the potential. Every pick is a shot at the future. Every pick is a risky move that could change the trajectory of a franchise. The magic of the draft is also the hope it gives us.
So while it might be tempting to roll your eyes at the pageantry or the made-for-TV moments, there’s a reason millions tune in every year. They tune in because this weird, wonderful, overproduced event matters, even if it’s just reading names off a card.
