Man, this Brewers Draft 2024. You try to get a handle on it, you really do. But every year, it’s like they’re just trying to mess with us regular folks.
So, I decided this was the year I’d really dig in. I mean, I went all out. I spent nights, actual late nights, scrolling through every article, every tweet from guys who claim they know things. One ‘expert’ says they’re going for a pitcher, another swears it’s a college bat. It’s enough to make your head spin, I tell ya.
I even started keeping my own notes. Yeah, laugh if you want. I had this whole document, trying to piece together who they talked to, who fits their ‘profile’. I was looking at stats until my eyes blurred. I felt like I was cramming for some impossible exam. I really thought, okay, I’ve got a decent idea of the top two or three guys they might take.
And then what happens? Draft day rolls around. I’m all set up, got my snacks, ready to see my genius predictions come true. And bam! They pick someone completely off my radar. Off everyone’s radar, felt like. All that time, all that effort, just up in smoke. It’s like they have a secret meeting where they decide to pick the one guy nobody is talking about, just for kicks.
You might ask why I even bother, why I put myself through it. Well, let me tell you about my Saturday during the draft weekend. It wasn’t just about the picks for me this year, oh no. It got personal.
See, my wife had been asking me to fix this leaky showerhead for, like, three weeks. Kept dripping. Drip. Drip. Drip. Driving her nuts. And I kept saying, ‘Yep, I’ll get to it. Soon as I get through this draft research.’ I figured, I’d get my draft fix, then be the hero plumber.
So, Saturday comes. I’m in the bathroom, tools laid out. Got a YouTube tutorial playing on my phone. But am I watching the tutorial? Nope. I’ve got the draft tracker open in another tab, one earbud in, listening to some live stream. Every few minutes, a new pick comes in, and I’m craning my neck, trying to see, trying to hear. I’m barely paying attention to the showerhead. Next thing I know, I’ve twisted something wrong. Water starts spraying. Not dripping, spraying. Everywhere.
My wife runs in. She sees me, soaked, the bathroom looking like a water park, and I’m yelling, ‘They took WHO? Another high school arm?!’ The look she gave me. Pure ice. I don’t think she said a word. Just pointed to the couch. That’s where I slept. And the showerhead? Still not fixed properly because I had to call an actual plumber on Sunday, which cost a fortune.
So yeah, that was my Brewers Draft 2024 experience. Spent a bunch of time trying to figure it out, ended up with a wet bathroom and a spot on the couch. Maybe next year I’ll just ignore the whole thing. But who am I kidding? I’ll probably do the exact same thing all over again.
