for this organization, and theyâll be a lot easier to execute if we have the prestige of a third Super Bowl victory behind us. I was counting on itâand frankly, I still am.â
He walked over to Jon and put a hand on his shoulder.
âGet it done, but donât give away the entire farm. At least not this year.â
Jon realized he was once again being asked to do the impossible.
âSure, no problem,â he said.
3
The folder waiting on his desk after lunch was enormous, particularly considering it had been assembled in just a few hours. But then there was plenty of printed material on the incredible Christian McKinley. The Ravens had a man whose primary job was to keep records on all the players who werenât Baltimore Ravens. Jon insisted on creating this position when he took over as GM. He knew a team had no chance of being competitive if it focused only on the players it already had. If, for example, a better kicker than theirs suddenly became available, he wanted to know about it. Or if a college kid they deemed draftable wasnât picked by any other team, Jon wanted to bring him in for a workout.
In the case of McKinley, gathering information wasnât all that tough. There was plenty of printed material available, as he was already more famous than most of the players who were already in the league. Jon put his feet up and flipped back the cover.
McKinleyâs smiling face jumped out at him from the cover of Sports Illustrated. He was black, handsome, large, and muscular. You couldnât tell much else from the picture. He wore a novelty jersey with a large question mark where the number would normally be. The headline read, âWho Will Win the McKinley Sweepstakes?â He had a ball tucked into the crook of his arm.
The article opened on a two-page spread that featured a closeup of McKinleyâs face plus the headline, âWanted: Christian McKinley. Money No Object.â It beganâ
In a quiet antechamber just off the locker room at Michigan, Christian McKinley sits in a folding chair wearing nothing but a white towel. His hands are laced together under his chin in a pose of deep contemplation. He looks up, notices me standing there, and flashes the disarming smile that has become so familiar to his fans. He offers his hand and a warm greeting, and within seconds I have almost forgotten that I am in the presence of the young man being touted as the first great athlete of the twenty-first century â¦
Characteristic of Sports Illustrated , it packed a great deal of solid information into a relatively small space. It covered McKinleyâs playing abilities, both physical and mental, plus his background, both academic and personal. There were quotes from his family, friends, coaches, teammates, and opponents. It was a standard âintroductoryâ article, a way of presenting the much-heralded prodigy to the rest of the world now that he was about to finish his college career and break onto the national scene. Jon remembered the piece; heâd read it a few months ago. Back then he thought about what a battle there would be to get McKinley and was thankful he didnât have to take part in it.
Behind the Sports Illustrated was McKinleyâs BLESTO report. BLESTO was an organization created in 1963 to gather information on thousands of college players each year, then offer it to the teams that subscribed to its service. The acronym stood for âBears, Lions, Eagles, Steelers Talent Organization.â Most other NFL teams jumped on the BLESTO bandwagon eventually, but for reasons of tradition the name was not changed again.
The goal of a BLESTO scout was to assemble a complete picture of each player, from basics such as height, weight, stats, past injuries, and speed in the 40-yard dash, to more abstract characteristics like strength, quickness, explosiveness, durability, character, general intelligence, and the ability to get along with
He walked over to Jon and put a hand on his shoulder.
âGet it done, but donât give away the entire farm. At least not this year.â
Jon realized he was once again being asked to do the impossible.
âSure, no problem,â he said.
3
The folder waiting on his desk after lunch was enormous, particularly considering it had been assembled in just a few hours. But then there was plenty of printed material on the incredible Christian McKinley. The Ravens had a man whose primary job was to keep records on all the players who werenât Baltimore Ravens. Jon insisted on creating this position when he took over as GM. He knew a team had no chance of being competitive if it focused only on the players it already had. If, for example, a better kicker than theirs suddenly became available, he wanted to know about it. Or if a college kid they deemed draftable wasnât picked by any other team, Jon wanted to bring him in for a workout.
In the case of McKinley, gathering information wasnât all that tough. There was plenty of printed material available, as he was already more famous than most of the players who were already in the league. Jon put his feet up and flipped back the cover.
McKinleyâs smiling face jumped out at him from the cover of Sports Illustrated. He was black, handsome, large, and muscular. You couldnât tell much else from the picture. He wore a novelty jersey with a large question mark where the number would normally be. The headline read, âWho Will Win the McKinley Sweepstakes?â He had a ball tucked into the crook of his arm.
The article opened on a two-page spread that featured a closeup of McKinleyâs face plus the headline, âWanted: Christian McKinley. Money No Object.â It beganâ
In a quiet antechamber just off the locker room at Michigan, Christian McKinley sits in a folding chair wearing nothing but a white towel. His hands are laced together under his chin in a pose of deep contemplation. He looks up, notices me standing there, and flashes the disarming smile that has become so familiar to his fans. He offers his hand and a warm greeting, and within seconds I have almost forgotten that I am in the presence of the young man being touted as the first great athlete of the twenty-first century â¦
Characteristic of Sports Illustrated , it packed a great deal of solid information into a relatively small space. It covered McKinleyâs playing abilities, both physical and mental, plus his background, both academic and personal. There were quotes from his family, friends, coaches, teammates, and opponents. It was a standard âintroductoryâ article, a way of presenting the much-heralded prodigy to the rest of the world now that he was about to finish his college career and break onto the national scene. Jon remembered the piece; heâd read it a few months ago. Back then he thought about what a battle there would be to get McKinley and was thankful he didnât have to take part in it.
Behind the Sports Illustrated was McKinleyâs BLESTO report. BLESTO was an organization created in 1963 to gather information on thousands of college players each year, then offer it to the teams that subscribed to its service. The acronym stood for âBears, Lions, Eagles, Steelers Talent Organization.â Most other NFL teams jumped on the BLESTO bandwagon eventually, but for reasons of tradition the name was not changed again.
The goal of a BLESTO scout was to assemble a complete picture of each player, from basics such as height, weight, stats, past injuries, and speed in the 40-yard dash, to more abstract characteristics like strength, quickness, explosiveness, durability, character, general intelligence, and the ability to get along with
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