Original subtitles

Previously on Necessary Roughness:

- Maurice Manningfield. - He is gunning for my ass.

The minefields of life never go away.

Terrence King decks The Minefield.

Damon Razor. Kid's got enough talent to develop into a number one.

My name is Bryce Abbott.

I stole someone's identity. I don't know what to do now.

It's been said that big dreams are the magic that stirs us to greatness.

But what drives people to attempt the impossible?

To push themselves to break world records?

Is it simply the challenge?

Or the hope that our deeds might outlive our last breath?

Get me out!

Breathe. Just breathe.

Hey, guys.

- Hi. - Hey.

I have something I would like to discuss with you.

She did it.

- Did what? - Whatever we're in trouble for.

No, you're not in trouble, that I know of.

Okay.

Remember when I promised you guys

that I would tell you when I was seeing someone?

Well...

Really? Who?

Duh, it's Matt, right?

Wait, hold on a second. Trainer Matt?

Yes. Trainer Matt.

Why are you telling us now?

- Are you getting married? - Are you pregnant?

No. No.

Okay.

No, it's just serious enough

that I would like us all to have dinner together on Wednesday.

I got plans. Two-month anniversary with Livvy.

I've got pommies tryouts for next year's team.

Pommies? You?

I never knew you were interested in dance-line cheering.

If you spent less time with your secret boyfriend, it wouldn't be a shock.

Mom, just...

use protection.

With the draft less than a week away, there are questions

as to which side of the ball the New York Hawks should focus on.

And it really hinges on the status of Terrence King.

If he can't go, there are five receivers I think grade out as third-round picks.

Kiddies on your ass, TK.

You fools sound like Coach. I swat rookies like flies.

Yeah, right. Well, you'd better swat them faster.

See what's trending on Twitter?

Hashtag "who's the next TK?"

The rest of the team is gonna love this.

- What you yakking about? - It's trending nationwide.

"Who's the next TK?"

Writing my obit before I O-bite it?

Yo, "Who's the next TK? How about Bozo? Because King is a straight-up clown."

Check this one out.

"I vote Lady Gaga. She's less of an attention whore."

Damn.

- Hits just keep coming and coming. - Coming and coming.

Y'all about to get going and going and going.

I'm finding this 243 percent less hilarious than the two of y'all.

Where you getting them numbers from?

Why are you always wearing all red?

Look like a big-ass Slim Jim.

Please, take a card, any card.

Is this a trick?

I don't do tricks.

My milieu is the impossible, the unbelievable, the unfathomable.

Now, please, all I ask is that you take a card and you sign it.

Right, now look at the card, and without showing it to me,

you're going to rip it up into pieces, and you're going to feed it to me.

I'm gonna feed it to you?

Yes, please. Come along. Time's of the essence. Chop-chop.

Ready?

In the hatch. Now.

It's delicious.

- Oh, I say, what's that? - No.

Would that possibly be your card?

- How did you do that? - First rule of magic:

Never reveal your secrets. Thank you.

Yes, cards. It's where I started when I was young.

Gawky, acne.

But if you pull a girl's card out of thin air,

telephone numbers magically appear.

But if you want to make a living as an illusionist,

you have to go big.

Like when you were suspended above the Seine in a Lucite pyramid?

Yes, or surviving a 20-foot-high tower of flames in Atlantic City.

Or, in this case, a feat of mental endurance and stamina.

I'll be buried alive for nine days in Central Park.

People will walk directly over me. They'll watch me from down below.

And then...

I'll escape from the coffin.

Wow, that is impressive.

It could be.

Last Friday when I was rehearsing,

I panicked inside the coffin.

I hyperventilated,

and I couldn't breathe, and I had to get out.

That sounds like claustrophobia.

In 2006, I was encased inside a narrow tube

with no light for three days, and I never flinched.

Now, suddenly, terrified.

Is there anything new going on in your life?

I've been divorced 10 years. I'm long over that.

My daughter, she's about to get married.

Terrific guy, great.

And I've just secured the most lucrative television contract of my career.

- For this stunt. - Back from the Dead.

Which you will be performing...

Two weeks from tomorrow.

Dr. Santino,

please, you've gotta help me get back in that coffin.

Finished my breakdown of the top 10 prospects by position.

You want the hard copy or e-mail?

Hard copies.

I'm old-fashioned that way.

You're not old-fashioned, Pat, just really damn old.

No, you're three years older than me, Hank.

So don't you start slinging your crap.

Matt Donnally, head trainer,

meet Hank Griffin, new GM.

Interim GM, courtesy of the league.

I'm here to help stabilize your front office

till your Pittman situation works itself out.

Hank and I came up through the ranks in Denver.

Back in '92, Pat was the offensive-line coach.

I was in the front office.

Here we are, putting the band together again.

Now, look, my mission is not to destroy.

I'm here to steer the ship back on course, navigate the draft.

Hank's looking to appoint someone from inside the organization as assistant GM,

and I told him Nico would be a good choice.

Nico?

Yes, Donnally, I suggested you.

Assistant GM on an interim basis.

I'd be honored on any basis. Thank you.

Then it's so.

Pat, say hello to your new boss.

I'm not trending.

Trending in what way?

The whole world is tweeting.

And what are they tweeting about?

Oh, everything except for me.

You know, pound "these aren't my socks." That's trending.

Half of the cast of The Hunger Games.

The Minefield is trending ahead of me. I knocked his ass out of the playoffs.

Damn twaters are acting like I'm dead.

Twaters?

It's when a tweeter and a hater have a baby.

These babies twate.

Look, Terrence, I understand.

Rehabbing has got to be--

A pain in my ass. That's what it is.

And it makes sense that you would be looking for distractions.

But we can come up with a strategy that will help you focus on your goals.

I might be five yards ahead of you, doc.

I'm getting a tweet master.

I'm sorry. A what?

I'm hiring Diddy's ghost tweeter to tweet for me.

This dude makes you much more brilliant and funny than you thought you could be.

Pound "try to follow the genius."

If somebody else is tweeting for me, then I won't not pay attention

to stuff that's not important, know what I'm saying?

Five, six, down seven, eight.

One, plank two, down three, out four.

And five-V, six, seven, and eight.

Down one, clutch two, three, cross four.

Back five, head six, seven, eight.

One, two, knee three, knee four,

back five, hug six, front seven, eight.

You'll get the hang, Linds.

You look awesome, Zoe.

Okay, girls, welcome to the first day of pommie tryouts for the 2012-'13 squad.

Grab a number and let's get busy. Quickly. Let's go.

Oh, assistant general manager with a hot new haircut.

- Congratulations. - Thank you.

Hello? Mom?

- Oh, where? - No, don't worry.

I told them this morning.

Door slamming usually means I'm ducking for a closet.

No, no, this is just a relaxed way to introduce you into their world.

So be cool, okay?

Hey, guys.

You remember Matt.

- Yes, Mom, we do. - Yeah.

- Hey. - Hey.

Hey.

Oh, how were your pommie tryouts?

Fine.

I have homework.

- Yeah, me too. - Gotta study.

- Awesome. - They're just teenagers. They like you.

No, they liked me when I wasn't dating their mother.

No.

Yo, what's up?

Sweet pad, yo.

Nice.

You are the tweet master?

Sure thing, broham. You talked to the Diddy Dog.

He told you what I do. Reboot your image, give you cyber cred.

You got a brew?

You are here to give me cred?

You're asking because I'm white?

If you were any whiter, you'd be teeth, homeboy.

I honed my chops at the Columbia School of Journalism,

was a political speech writer, did The Onion.

I know funny, and I know how to grab headlines.

I need some grabbing. The world thinks I'm dead.

Oh, bro, I'm gonna blow it up for you.

Get you trending worldwide.

Galaxy-wide.

And I'll do it without anyone knowing I'm even there.

I'm gonna become you.

Your voice, your DNA.

Stealth. Like a ninja.

Like a tweet-ja.

Now, what's your password?

This is where the magic happens.

From the traditional...

to the bizarre.

I squeezed myself inside here with 50 venomous asps.

I spent two hours inside,

and then... I was gone.

Dr. Santino.

Pete Crowe. Designer, master builder, resident genius.

- He has been with me... - Forever.

- Forever. - Pleasure.

- Hello. - He is engineer extraordinaire.

He's built every illusion, every illusion, including Back from the Dead.

This is the box that you are going to be buried in.

Hypnosis.

Gonna make me cluck like a chicken?

No, we are gonna try and figure out what's triggering your claustrophobia.

Okay, doc.

Work your magic on me.

Okay.

You're going to listen to the sound of my voice as I count forward.

Welcome to the war room, gentlemen.

You all know our new assistant GM, Matt Donnally.

- Terry. - Good to see you.

Good to see you.

Let's see what the brain trust has come up with.

Okay, Pat, tell us what you're thinking for our first pick.

My biggest need is in the secondary. Pittman gutted me with those cuts he made.

I'd like immediate help with corner. I'm targeting Johnson.

Out of OSU?

Kid's been money all season, and stepped up at the Combine.

- What says scouting? - Guy's great.

On everyone's radar. Gonna be a tough get.

Johnson's not there, we'll go to the next corner, Billings.

All in agreement? We focus on a corner in the third round?

Donnally?

You onboard?

Sounds like a plan.

All right.

Fourth round, we got two picks.

Defensive tackle from UCLA's a monster. He's our top choice for first pick.

You were quieter than a mime in there.

Didn't want to overstep.

I prefer my assistant GM overstepping

to trying to guess what's going on in his damn head.

I know we need a corner.

But there's better players available in the third.

Impact players.

You disagree with Pat.

No disrespect to Coach.

But he believes in drafting to fill position.

I believe in drafting best player available.

I'm thinking four or five years ahead.

Send me your draft board. I'll take a look at it.

Right away.

Someone find me Nico Careles.

Mr. Careles.

Mr. Griffin.

What kind of shoddy operation are you running?

Is there a problem?

Terrence King's Twitter feed.

He's mocking the team, and I won't have it.

As far as the league is concerned, the Pittman era of coddling is over.

While I'm overseeing things, these players will fall in line,

or they'll find themselves out on their preening asses.

- You'd like me to deliver that message? - Yes.

And this one:

We just unfroze Mr. King's bonus. Don't make us regret that.

I want this Twitter nonsense stopped.

Look forward to working with you.

I was in the coffin.

I was doing a run-through with Pete.

Tell me about that.

I was practicing my usual breathing techniques.

Everything was fine un--

Until...

Oh, my chest is so tight.

What's happening, Jack?

Something horrible.

Okay, describe it for me.

And remember, whatever you're seeing, it's just in your mind.

I can't breathe.

Feels like I'm gonna die.

Okay, Jack, you're okay, and I'm right here with you.

What do you see?

I'm dead.

I'm dead.

You gotta throw it in there.

A couple more weeks of this, TK gonna be burning up that field, boy.

Give us a minute.

Brother Grimm, what's up?

Apparently your Twitter following.

I know. Ain't it cool?

Yeah, who would've known Photoshopping yourself

in every other team's uniform could be so hilarious?

Oh, come on, Sneako. Where's your damn funny bone?

I'm glad you're entertained, because management is not amused.

Since when have I given a damn?

Since there's a new sheriff in town.

With Pittman, I could protect you.

But now the league is involved.

And Hank Griffin? He's not your friend.

Dead?

Yes, I saw myself...

At my own funeral. It was frightening.

It was frightening.

It's like I was gone, and everyone's life went on without me.

What does this even matter?

Death and your funeral.

These images are very specific.

I didn't come to you for psychoanalysis.

I have a stunt in 10 days.

I just need help getting over the claustrophobia.

Jack, it's all related.

There's a part of you that is trying to avoid what's underlying this.

I'm not trying to avoid anything. I'm trying to move forward.

If I don't, if I back out, I will be a joke.

I'll be an utterly irrelevant joke.

Yet subconsciously,

you seem to be resisting going forward.

The question is, why?

What's up, baby?

Hey, yo. What's up, my brother?

Yo, I got you a double mocha chinois.

- I read on TMZ that's your drink. - Thank you.

You wanted a face-to-face. What's up?

Yeah, man, we have to squash the photo thing.

Squash the photo? No way.

Come on, that pic was the shizzle.

I got you popping and locking and trending in Istanbul.

That you did, and shukran, but my own personal Darth Vader says,

me in other teams' uniforms, that's a no-go.

Whatevs.

So we'll pull a U-ey, go a different direction,

ignite some flames, but keep the focus on Y-O-U.

Now you're speaking my L-A-N-guage. That's what I'm talking about.

On a non sequitur, I was watching Happy Feet.

How about we tweet I got a penguin?

People love those damn birds.

Penguins are small potatoes.

JM's got a bigger trick up his sleeve for you.

Hey, perfect timing.

Dinner is ready.

Where's Ray Jay?

He's at Olivia's, so it's just girls' night.

Hey, what happened with the pommies tryout?

I made the team.

Hey, congratulations. That's great.

Don't act like you're happy for me.

Of course I'm happy for you, especially if that's what you want to do.

Admit it, you think it's stupid.

Honey, where is all this coming from?

It's coming from nothing. Everything is great.

I can't eat this, because it's all carbs.

Moneyball.

- What up, boy? - What's up?

Getting all middle manage-y on me?

Shirking your responsibilities during my rehab.

I'm not shirking. I got promoted.

Good for you.

You'll still make time for me, right?

When I can.

Stan's one of the best trainers in the league.

Stan?

I didn't see you being so standoffish.

Figured you might stand by me.

Come on, man.

Enjoy your suits and ties, Mr. Donnally.

Really?

Really, T?

- Donnally. - Hey, Coach.

You submitted your own draft board to Hank?

He asked for it.

- What was I supposed to do? - I put you up for this job.

You could've come to me first.

- Did you look at my board? - Yeah, you got a hard-on for Razor.

But I don't want Razor, or whatever his name really is.

We already have one head-case wide receiver.

Do we need a matched set?

I want Johnson.

- Johnson's not gonna be available then. - Bull.

If Razor pans out, along with TK, that takes us through the next five years.

- Next five years? - Yeah.

I gotta win tomorrow.

I'm sick of being asked

to make gourmet meals off somebody else's groceries.

- I should've come to you first. - Yeah.

But we just disagree, respectfully.

Oh, we disagree, but it's not respectfully.

So the goal for today is to get you back into the coffin,

but this time, with the lid closed.

Well, no, it's okay. We don't need to.

I was thinking about our last session.

Back from the Dead is the wrong stunt.

My subconscious has been trying to tell me that.

I only have you to thank for that. Thank you.

What about it is wrong?

It's just not big enough, is it? Basically it's a retread of Asps in Glass.

I think that my subconscious is trying to tell me that I am dying creatively.

Pete already designed something really rather spectacular.

Escape Over New York.

Is that supposed to be you?

Hanging upside down between two skyscrapers

whilst escaping from that straitjacket.

- That's-- - Brilliant, isn't it?

It's worthy of Houdini.

And on live television.

Isn't that something that takes months of planning?

Not when Pete's your engineer.

Sorry, it's the-- It's the network. Excuse me.

- Can I talk to you? - Of course.

Jack doesn't do well with perceived disloyalty.

But I'm worried about this new stunt.

You need to talk him out of it.

- That's not what I do, Pete. - Look.

We've been planning Back from the Dead for 15 months.

All the kinks were worked out, and now Jack insists on this

with less than two weeks' prep.

If I didn't know better, I'd call it a suicide mission.

Dr. Santino, I think he's trying to kill himself.

With the first pick of the draft hours away, my sources tell me

the Hawks will use their third-round pick to fill their need at cornerback.

Oh, no, he didn't.

What's my boy Josh tweeting now?

It ain't Josh. It's Maurice Manningfield.

The Minefield?

He's at Aqua with his homeys,

"watching the draft," and he's trending.

Hashtag "Minefield make TK go boom."

I got it. "Terrence King is done and burnt.

Like a steak left on the grill a week too long."

- What? - Wait, wait, wait.

Here comes your Twitter ghost.

TK says, "Does The Minefield want the King of Pain

to go boom on his candy ass again?"

- I tweeted that? - You tweeted that.

- I just said, I tweeted that. - You did it.

Flame war. That's how you trend.

Minefield's talking smack, but you're smacking right back.

That's what I'm talking about. I'm tweeting my ass off.

The Minefield tweeted back. Check this.

"Terrence King is suplotoveant.

Super slow, old, and totally irrelevant."

Oh, I'm...

My bad. I probably shouldn't have read that one.

Yeah.

- Okay. - Yeah.

You know what? Lock up when you leave.

Don't steal with your broke asses.

Where you going?

To make The Minefield go boom,

in Technicolor.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Network loves the new stunt. They booked me on all the morning shows.

Yeah, I gotta ask, Jack, this last-minute change in the stunt,

it seems like you need more time.

Why the rush?

The rush is that I've got a contract.

Pete, we should shorten these wires a couple of inches.

Jack, wait.

Is it a contract that's worth dying over?

What?

All I'm saying is,

charging headfirst into something this big

without all the necessary safety precautions--

Dr. Santino,

date's fixed.

Well, it couldn't hurt to ask for a slight delay.

- Actually, yes, it could, damn it. - Jack.

I am trying to do something for the ages here.

And you're obsessing about all the details.

No, I'm wondering why the details are making you so upset.

I'm not upset. Really.

I hired you to help me. And you succeeded.

Your work is done. I'm grateful.

But now you'll have to excuse me. I've got preparations to make.

Thank you.

Jack.

Jack, come...

I love the smell of fresh draft picks in the morning.

Oh, Donnally, I spoke to Coach about your draft board.

- I heard. - Some good ideas.

But we'll stick with Pat's plan, fill for need.

Hey, I'm a team player. This is my team.

Good. We're all on the same page, then.

Can you believe it? You and I back in the saddle again.

Pretty damn cool.

Turn it up. Here we go.

With the first pick in the 2012 draft,

Miami selects Darius Gaines,

quarterback, USC.

Gentlemen,

let's go to war.

Arizona selects Omari Hill,

defensive end, University of North Carolina.

Cleveland has traded the 14th pick to Arizona.

Ray Jay and I are taking a college tour this summer.

Great. You know where you're headed?

Ray Jay, Lindsay, no texting during dinner.

No, no, that's me. Sorry.

We got the eighth pick tomorrow. It's crazy over there.

- Who's gonna be Mr. Irrelevant? - Mister who?

Last player picked in the draft, usually gets cut before the season starts.

Mom, what time can I meet up with Olivia?

When we're done, Ray Jay.

When's that gonna be?

Pommies want to get together tonight.

Can I go?

- What? - Oh, I'm so sorry.

Mom, pommies, yes or no?

So sorry.

Okay, everybody.

Five minutes,

no phones,

please.

Sure. Of course.

- That's your phone, Ma. - Yeah.

- What? - Somewhere here.

We don't answer phones during dinner.

Yeah, you answer your phone at dinner all the time.

No, I don't.

This is ridiculous.

You're trying to act like we're The Brady Bunch or something.

What? Lindsay, no, I'm not.

I'm sorry. I'm not gonna pretend anymore.

This is not our family.

Ma, I got it.

Oh, boy.

- Phone. - No, no, no.

- It's okay. Yep. - I gotta take it. Sorry.

- It's okay. - Yeah?

Apparently, we answer our phones at dinner, so...

Yo, Minefield.

T-Cup, what up, my man?

Don't play dumb with me.

I'm just trying to have dinner with some friends.

Just having dinner with your friends, huh?

Funny, because on Twitter, you just say whatever you please.

But in person, you hide behind your Caesar salad.

You gonna let me eat in peace, or do we have a problem?

Know what? We've been down this road. I ain't gonna throw any punches.

Smart man.

But I will throw some rolls.

Hope you like pumpernickel, bitch.

I hope you like anchovies, shrimp.

What the hell, TK?

I mean, charging down here?

I got pumpernickel crumbs all down my back.

Me?

You called me suplotoveant on Twitter.

Man, that's just Twitter.

How's rehab going?

It's going.

In '05, torn ACL, missed half the season.

But you...

You got shot.

That's heavy.

It ain't no picnic.

TK, those tweets?

Not mine.

Who the hell was it, Bobby Brown?

I got a guy.

Tweet master.

Skinny little white dude.

This alabaster bastard wouldn't happen to be named Josh, would he?

Oh, my-- Wait, okay.

So this dude is fighting with himself, and now we're taking the burn for it?

Trying to stay relevant out there, it's a bitch, you know?

That it is.

Gentlemen,

the owner of this lovely establishment agreed not to press charges

in exchange for a couple of autographed photos.

Are we good?

Dare I ask who started this thing?

- Josh. - Josh.

Jack, hello. It's Dr. Santino.

Listen.

I think I know why you disappeared,

why all of this is happening now.

And if you reappear,

I'll be happy to tell you.

And with the 16th pick of the third round,

Chicago selects Kawani Johnson.

- Cornerback from Ohio State University. - You're kidding me.

The run on corners continues.

Why do they need Johnson? Their secondary's stacked.

- We got six minutes to pull the trigger. - Who's the next best corner?

Washington got Billings. Pittsburgh got Kestler.

Anders out of Stanford, or Holbrook out of Temple.

We had them both going in the fourth.

Holbrook. Get Holbrook. Get him now.

Coach.

Coach, I'll support whatever you do.

But we're passing on Damon Razor, who could be a franchise wideout.

And we're reaching for a fourth-round talent in the third round.

We're reaching for a corner.

Hank, I want Holbrook.

I hear you, old friend.

But Damon Razor...

Too good to pass up.

Terry, make the call.

Matt, let me see your draft board again. There's some good thoughts in there.

Pick a card.

Any card.

I have to admit, I was intrigued by your phone message.

Time is of the essence. Chop-chop.

The bride.

What's this about?

You never mentioned that your daughter's wedding

was on the same date as your stunt.

That's a good trick.

I don't do tricks.

Why don't you wanna go to your daughter's wedding?

I've got to go.

Don't disappear on me again.

I gave my whole life

to this career.

On the road, different cities, different stunts.

If you disappear often enough, the people you love forget about you.

Go on.

My daughter, Lacey, asked her...

stepfather if he would walk her down the aisle.

Not me.

Okay.

Dr. Santino, when my daughter was young,

I used to wow her with all these little magic tricks.

She used to love it.

I could do no wrong, all right?

And then I got famous,

and I got ambitious for bigger wows, and bigger stunts.

I wasn't a good father.

I may be a star to strangers around the world,

but to my own daughter, I'm irrelevant.

You told me that your subconscious was telling you

not to go forward with the stunt.

I think you were right.

I think you want to see your daughter get married.

How do I start to repair it?

You come back from the dead.

And with the final pick in the 2012 draft,

Seattle selects Nathan Coder...

- Good work. - Good job.

Listen.

I know you're all exhausted and want to sleep for the next week.

But before you go,

I want to congratulate everyone on a successful draft.

- That's right. - Yeah.

- All right. - Good.

- Yeah. - Good job.

- Excellent work, Matt. - Thank you.

- Think we did good? - Damn good.

Coach, look--

No apologies. You did your job, Matt.

Your grocery list.

Meal goes bad,

on you now.

Hey, Winter. Hi, honey.

Oh, hi, Mrs. Santino.

Is Lindsay here?

No, Lindsay quit pommies a few days ago.

Why? What happened?

I don't know.

She's been acting so weird lately.

Nice, ladies.

Where is she?

I have no idea.

Hey.

Mom, how did you find me?

Magic.

And the Find My Phone app.

It's been coming in handy a lot lately.

Linds,

I know that you...

You quit pommies.

Honey,

would you please just tell me what's wrong?

Is it...?

Is it about Matt?

No, I like Matt.

Pommies is stupid.

I only tried out because Winter and all of my other friends did.

But lately I feel like I'm not like them.

Ray Jay has football, and Olivia,

and you have this awesome career,

and now Matt.

- What do I have? - Honey.

It is so natural to feel this way,

particularly at your age.

I feel like...

I need someone to talk to.

I'm right here for you.

No, Mom, I need someone to talk to who isn't you.

Like a therapist.

Okay.

You and Minefield, free to tweet.

Gangster. What'd you say to him?

Better I don't tell you.

- Burgers. I'm buying. - Really?

Yeah, in an ever-changing world,

it's nice to know that somebody's got your back.

I like burgers.

Prefer lobster.

Damn, you ain't no cheap date, huh?

You've got to feel good for this year's Mr. Irrelevant,

the punter, Nathan Coder.

He probably won't make the team, but he can tell his kids one day,

"Hey, I got drafted to play pro football."

- Guys. - Hello.

Hey.

We were just about to watch a movie.

- You want to join us? - Yeah.

We can order pizza. You guys pick the toppings.

But no ham.

No pineapple.

- And no war movies. - No romcoms, either.

And no cell phones. How about that?

Off.

Off.

All right.

What do you guys want to watch?

- I get the remote. - Nope, you don't.

Hey, now.

This draft was one of the most turbulent in the last five years.

Now that the dust has settled,

there are some winners, and some losers,

and likely some very bruised egos.

Speaking of the winners in this draft,

the New York Hawks set themselves up pretty well.

They landed wide receiver Damon Razor.

But you gotta wonder, if they felt the need to go for a wideout,

what does that say about the future of one Terrence King?