It’s last year, April 30, Las Vegas, Caesar’s Forum. Melanie Salata-Fitch waits patiently, for one specific NFL draft pick, the same selection, always—the very last one. Her pops, the late Paul Salata, sold the wider sports world on the relevance of that particular selection. He sold it by tying that pick to a tag that accomplished the opposite of its literal meaning. The final NFL draft choice became his vision, Mr. Irrelevant, starting in 1976, adding modest intrigue to the end of what’s now a full-blown, three-day, wall-to-wall-coverage extravaganza.
San Francisco holds the final selection—and, bonus, that was her father’s team. Plus, in the portion of the draft most heavy with exchanges, the 49ers haven’t traded it away. Per tradition, a Salata will announce the choice, which fell to Fitch after her father died in 2021. She turns and sees the last pick in ’22 walking toward her. , she thinks. , ? Sure!
Mr. Cute Eyes is Brock Purdy, which is relevant for a whole lotta reasons. He’s a quarterback, and, for a tradition that celebrates fringe NFL prospects among fringe NFL prospects, QBs tend to receive a little more patience, which often leads to longer (relative) careers. They also, due to the public nature of their careers, tend to participate, willingly and happily, in what’s known as Irrelevant Week, an outgrowth of Mr. Irrelevant, Part II of her father’s vision. Still, Fitch says, “I wasn’t doing any interviews the season started.”
First impression: She finds Purdy … . He knows what Irrelevant Week is! He’s excited! His mom lives just down the road from the event’s epicenter, Newport Beach, Calif.! , she thinks. But it is true, all of it. Purdy perhaps the strangest week of his remarkable life.
His grandparents come, as do his parents, brother and sister. Mr. Irrelevants used to bring anyone they wanted. But that number went down in the early 2000s, when one arrived with guests. Purdy refers to his shell crew, all relatives, as ; he understands the intended vibe. He arrives via car, unlike most, who fly in. So he’s not greeted at the airport by banners, cheerleaders and a small crowd. He does receive a street sign with his name on it. He is taken to Knott’s Berry Farm, the amusement park chosen for its minors/49ers ties, including, apparently, one of the mascots, a Mr. Whittles. Purdy plays catch with Mr. Whittles. He’s taken on a pub crawl (Purdy, not Mr. Whittles) and to a pizza parlor, where he makes a pie tosses it, this attempt more Frisbee than football.
Fitch compares celebrating the final draft choice to picking a random name from any page of a phonebook—, ?—and not halfway celebrating them but , at max volume, in public, for an entire week! Some, she says, “are easier than others.” But she cannot recall another Mr. I who was easier to celebrate than Purdy. For the final part of his relevant-irrelevance week, he chooses for his final event. Fitch makes that happen and throws a beach party to boot. There’s surfing sailing, plus a barbecue feast, before Fitch wishes Mr. Cute Eyes well.
This Mr. Irrelevant, she thinks, .
