Finally, attention is drawn back up at the podium where... SHANE HAS BEEN NAPPING THIS WHOLE TIME?!?!?

He stands back up and shakes his head, blinking his eye a few times and looking around like he's in awe. He puts on a pair of sunglasses because the lights are too bright for his eye.

: Well well, it seems the draft is still going on. Let's stay on track guys. I don't want this to take all night! You don't see me losing focus!

Shane lets out a huge yawn that turns into a second yawn, which leads to him stretching both of his arms out and bringing out a folding chair so he can sit rather than stand at the podium.

: Alright.... without further ado... the next captain! I think we're at drawing number twelve now right? Or wait... no it's not twelve... I think it's 420!

Shane smokes a pound of weed.

: Ahhhhh, much better. Now I remember we're at pick number SEVEN!!! Ladies and gentledongs... I give to you...



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MICHAEL MCBRIDE!!!