Contestants perform before the judges in tight clothing, showing off their bodies. They do everything they can to catch a judge’s eye and impress. The competition is intense because of all the money on the line. There are coaches for every aspect the contestants need. There’s physical training, mental training, media training, even social media training.
A horde of men, many rich and creepy, observe the human stock. Who among the preening prancing parade would make the best investment?
Selected lucky contestants know it’s a life-changing event. Their family rushes to them. There’s a lot of hugging and crying.
“And that’s why the NFL draft and fantasy leagues are like beauty pageants,” concluded feisty pre-teen, Britney Connors. She put her hands on her hips and tilted her chin for maximum sass, modeling her stance on the wise-cracking younger sister characters required to appear in every comedy show or movie in the entire universe.
“Shut up,” snapped her older brother, Tyler Connors. “Fantasy Football and the NFL draft are nothing at all like a beauty pageant.”
“You got all these hopeful contestants who will do anything to be chosen. They show off their bodies for the public. People rate them on how they look and how they perform. Sounds like a beauty pageant to me!”
“Bro, get your little sister out of here,” said Tyler’s friend, Scott. “She’s messing up the whole draft.”
“Yeah man,” echoed Aiden, their fellow fantasy football league team manager, “I can’t concentrate.”
“Get out, Britney,” Tyler told his sister. “Git!”
“No. I want to hang out down here.”
“I said get out!” Tyler screamed. Britney burst into tears and ran up the basement stairs, slamming the door behind her. Tyler was about to restart the drafting process when his mother called from above.
“What, mom?” Tyler whined, exasperated.
“Your sister is crying. Can’t you let her play with you? She said something about a beauty pageant.”
“It’s not a beauty pageant, mom! It’s a fantasy football league. And no! She can’t.”
Tyler’s mom stomped away.
“Bro, your little sister is annoying,” said Mike.
“No kidding,” said Tyler.
The draft could now continue. Tyler read the description for the next player available for bidding.
“Look at this stud. LaDean Trevell. Ohio State. Receiver. Six three a solid one ninety-five. Arm length 36 inches. He’s a deep threat, but also a competent short-range guy. And, in a pinch, can fill in on defense. Trevell is the whole package. Sexy, huh?”
“Me likely,” said Scott.
“I want him bad,” said Aiden.
The room fell silent. All three young men cleared their throats.
Aiden quickly added, “I mean, for my team, of course.”