Petry: Why I love the NFL Draft
Intern Clay Petry writes about how he has every reason to be bitter about the draft but still loves it anyway
By Clay Petry
Clay is the Purple Insider intern for this semester. He played football at University of Pennsylvania
I was brainwashed by my Dad to root for the Chicago Bears. He was born and raised in Illinois and is a die-hard Chicago sports fan, so naturally, I didn’t have much of a choice when it came time for me to pick a team. I’ve been suffering alongside Bears fans for most of my life, especially on draft night, thanks to some of the questionable decisions that franchise has made over the years.
My first draft heartbreak came in 2017. The Bears held the 3rd overall pick and were finally moving on from Jay Cutler. The big-name quarterback prospects that year were Deshaun Watson, Mitchell Trubisky, and a guy named Patrick Mahomes.
Now, this is usually the part where people reflect on how different the football world would be if the Bears had drafted Mahomes. But honestly I had never even heard of Mahomes before the draft. Maybe it’s because I was younger and not fully locked in on college football, but he just wasn’t on my radar.
The player I did have my eye on was Deshaun Watson. Of course, we all know how his career turned out, but back then, after watching him lead Clemson to a national championship and get his revenge on Coach Saban and Alabama, I thought he was him. I was convinced he was the future of the Bears.
So when Chicago traded up one spot to grab the 2nd overall pick, I thought it was a lock—Watson was coming to the Windy City because why would you ever pass on him for a player that only started 1 season and went 8-5? But that’s exactly what the Bears did. When Roger Goodell walked to the podium and announced, “Mitchell Trubisky, Quarterback from the University of North Carolina,” my heart sank. I just sat there in shock, trying to process what the Bears had done.
There was a moment of hope after the 2018 season when Trubisky helped lead the Bears to a 12-4 record. But after suffering a torn labrum, he was never the same, and the team returned to being the laughing stock of the division. That’s a familiar story for Bears fans—so many off-seasons and draft picks that start with hope and end in heartbreak.
And yet, every year, I still get excited. That’s the magic of the draft. For one weekend, every team—no matter how rough the past has been—gets to look ahead and dream big again.
Heck, just last season, you might’ve caught me yelling “The Bears are back!” after they landed Caleb Williams and Rome Odunze in the first round. Clearly, they were not back, finishing 5-12. But here I am, once again, ready to believe.
I know I’ll be on the edge of my seat this Thursday as the first round kicks off with questions zooming through my head. Who will be the big bust of this draft? Who is going to find a diamond in the rough? The decisions that each team makes this weekend could change the trajectory of their franchise and the landscape of the NFL, and I will be laser-focused on the events that unfold.
Maybe it’s weird to get this jacked up about the draft but for many of us it’s more than just names being read off a card—it’s years of emotion, loyalty, and hope tied up in a single moment. We replay highlights, analyze mock drafts, and convince ourselves that this is finally the year. It’s the beauty and heartbreak of being a fan: no matter how many times we’ve been let down, we keep showing up.
But for me, the draft has always meant something even deeper. As much of a fan as I am, I didn’t just watch the draft from that perspective. Ever since I was a young kid, my dream was to hear my name called on draft night. I used to lie awake, imagining that moment in vivid detail. What would it feel like when my name gets announced to the crowd as the commissioner calls me up to the stage? I would picture myself surrounded by my family and friends, feeling their hugs, their pride. Would I cry? Would I yell in excitement? How would I manage to fit that hat over my poofy hair? Would my dad still cheer for me if the Packers drafted me? I envisioned that day more times than I can count.
Every year, when draft night rolled around, it became a personal tradition. I would sit in front of the TV, watching each pick unfold, absorbing every moment. The drama, the excitement, the joy of watching athletes who’d worked their whole lives for this one night. And with each name called, I told myself: That’s going to be me someday.
I watched my heroes—players who had been in my shoes once—walk across that stage, knowing their lives were about to change. And I promised myself I’d get there too. The draft was more than just a TV event for me; it was fuel for my fire. It was extra motivation that kept me going through every early morning workout, every game, and every injury.
I say this knowing thousands of other kids shared this dream with me, so who am I to have so much confidence to think I could’ve actually gotten drafted? When I was in high school, I earned 14 Division 1 scholarship offers even without being able to play my Senior year due to COVID. Some of the bigger schools that offered me were San Diego St and Boise St, but I took my talents to the University of Pennsylvania. So not power four, but enough to make me believe I was on the right track.
Now, I’m 22 years old and about to graduate from college. Reality is, my lifelong plan—my dream, the one I’d worked so hard for—didn’t come true the way I hoped. If everything had gone according to my vision, I would be gearing up to hear my name called this weekend in Green Bay. I would’ve been standing at the podium, living the dream I had built up in my mind for nearly two decades.
But here I am, sitting behind my laptop, typing out this story. As much as it stings to admit it, I failed.
It’s tough. There’s no sugarcoating it. The dream I held onto for so long is now just that—a dream. I’m not bitter though. Not anymore. Even though I didn’t make it to the NFL, the draft is still meaningful to me. It’s still a part of my story.
I could easily let the draft haunt me with jealousy for all the guys who made it. I could let it be a constant reminder of what I couldn’t achieve. Instead, when I watch the draft now, I don’t think about the future I could’ve had, I think about the past that shaped me.
The draft isn’t just about getting your name called—it’s about the journey that gets you there. It’s about the sacrifices, the perseverance, the grit. It’s about chasing something that feels bigger than yourself and learning, win or lose, how to push through when nobody else believes in you. Watching the draft now reminds me of the effort I put in, all the work and growth that led me to this point.
I didn’t walk that path alone. My parents were there from day one—early mornings, long drives to tournaments, staying up late after games to watch my highlights on the news, or to talk through tough losses. My coaches pushed me past my limits and made me believe I belonged. My teammates became brothers. And when I was hurting, when I was doubting everything, they were still in my corner. I’ll never forget that. This journey might not have ended how I dreamed it would, but I know I didn’t waste it—because of the people who helped carry me through.
I learned so much about myself and the world around me through my football journey. I accomplished things I once thought I couldn’t do, and it would be a shame to look back on that and be disappointed. Everything football has put me through has helped shape me into who I am today. And it took a while, but I’m starting to feel proud of that young man again.
No matter what happens next, I’ll always love this game. I’ll always love the sound of shoulder pads clacking, the smell of fresh-cut grass in the fall, and the work it takes to stand out in the NFL. I’ll always feel something when I see a DB get mossed or experience a two-minute drill unfold. Football taught me discipline, toughness, humility—and even though it didn’t take me to the league, it gave me a lifetime of lessons I wouldn’t trade for anything.
So yes, I love draft night. Not just for the moment I hoped for, but for everything it stands for. When the draft comes around, I still see it as motivation, just like I did when I was a kid. Because no matter what happens, the journey’s not over. The draft may not have been my destination, but it’s still part of the road that leads me to wherever I’m meant to go.
This draft for me is a big example of that. I never would’ve imagined that I would be watching the draft from the viewpoint of a professional covering the Minnesota Vikings, and I’m genuinely excited to see who they pick.
There are so many options for them, and with the season they had last year, they are set up with a plethora of options. They could end up with one of the top DTs or DBs depending on the board, take a G or WR, not to mention they could even trade back and acquire more picks.
There are so many outcomes that look good for the Vikings, and it has been a blast interacting with Vikings fans and the Purple Insider community because it is an exciting time for them.
So yeah, maybe my name won’t be called this Thursday night. But I’ll still be locked in—just like I’ve always been—watching every pick, feeling that same spark that first drew me to this game. And while the dream has shifted, the passion hasn’t.
This weekend, I’ll be breaking down draft boards, talking through team fits, and analyzing every move with a new kind of excitement—one rooted not in what could’ve been, but in everything this game still gives me.
Because football will always be a part of who I am. As long as there’s a draft, I’ll be tuning in—hopeful, grateful, and still dreaming.
Great story! I’ve enjoyed your work here and your appearances on the podcast.
Beautifully written, thank you!