Apparently, while we were at a wedding this weekend-it was in Alabama, and yes, they had butter mints, mandatory at all Southern weddings-the NFL decided to hold the combines and pants-down embarrass Maurice Clarett. The conspiracy theorist in us wants to believe that this is yet another step in Tagliabue's methodical plan to destroy Clarett for challenging the NFL's policy on underclassmen, but unless Tags paid Bobby Brown to hang out with Clarett, we're afraid we have very little ammo for our paranoia.
Clarett managed to finish the 40 somewhere between a 4.75 and a 4.9. My brother-in-law ran a 5.0 in high school while playing on the o-line. Not having seen the actual run, we wonder: did the sportswriters, perhaps stunned by gorging on the press room spread, omit a detail or two? Like Clarett running with a cigarette in his mouth? Or him running with a pocket full of change? Caesar's Indiana isn't that far down the road-maybe he hit the slots and drove straight to the RCA Dome.