When it comes to being the last guy picked in the NFL Draft, the draftee gets two things:
A lifetime of being able to tell anyone in earshot—nephews, grocery baggers, flight attendants, whoever—that he was drafted to play pro ball.
The title of Mr. Irrelevant.
It's more than just a condescending name, though! Because in 1976, a retired 49ers wide receiver named Paul Salata (who scored the team's last touchdown in the All-America Football Conference in 1949, and its first in the National Football League in 1950) invented the title and an entire celebration for the last man taken. A weeklong party in Newport Beach, California! A regatta! The bestowal of the Lowsman Trophy (get it?), which features a player fumbling a football! In the ensuing 40 years, the celebration—now more of a long weekend than a full week—has involved Playboy Bunnies, Will Ferrell, tackling Mickey Mouse at Disneyland, and, always, drinking (all while raising money for charity). The idea was a hype bonanza from the start. So much so that the NFL instituted the Salata rule—the second-to-last team in a draft can't pass on their pick in order to get Mr. Irrelevant—after the Rams and the Steelers spent the ass-end of the 1979 draft playing hot potato for the final slot.
Paul Salata is 90 now, but the Mr. Irrelevant tradition lives on thanks to his daughter, Melanie Fitch, the current CEO of Irrelevant Week. She says the idea was born out of her father's belief that, when it comes to the final pick, "It's irrelevant that he's last. It's an honor to be drafted at all." Whether that's true or a savvy reinterpretation, it's hard to say. But there's no denying that the lucky player who sneaks in under the wire gets something none of the 200-plus draftees ahead of him will: a days-long rager and some wacky memories. We spoke to Melanie Fitch and seven previous Mr. Irrelevants (including Marty Moore, 1994, the only Mr. Irrelevant to play in a Super Bowl, as well as Ryan Succop, 2009, and Kalan Reed, 2016—both still active players on the Tennessee Titans) to find out what it's like to be the last of the best.
On the last day of the NFL Draft—currently a seven-round, three-day slog—each of these players landed somewhere. Some felt they should have gone higher. And some felt they shouldn't have been drafted at all.
Marty Moore (1994, Pick #222, New England Patriots): Every scout was like, "We project you to be between the third and the fifth round." I went up to my mom's house [to watch]. She always had jobs for me to do. So I started painting the back bedroom. I'd pop out occasionally. Fifth round comes and goes. My mom was like, "What's going on? Why haven't you been drafted? You need to call your agent!" The sixth round comes and my phone starts ringing. My mom would pick up the phone and answer it and then I would get on and she wouldn't get off. I'm talking and you can hear my mom breathing on the other phone. Seventh round comes, and the phone rings and it's the linebacker coach of the New England Patriots: "I just want you to know we're gonna draft you with the next pick." Two picks later, the New England Patriots flash up and it goes, "Jay Barker, quarterback, Howard." I threw all my stuff in a duffel bag, threw it in my car. I'm in my car, putting stuff in, and my brother runs out and he goes, "Marty, the Patriots have another pick!" So I walk back inside and it's "Marty Moore, linebacker, University of Kentucky, New England Patriots."
Kalan Reed (2016, Pick #253, Tennessee Titans): I got a couple of calls day two, so I thought for sure I'd go early day three. And then a couple of teams called me and were like, "We're going to pull the trigger," but never did. [By the last round, my family] were all in the living room. I went downstairs at that point, because I was tired of watching. When the Titans called me and they told me they were gonna pick me, I went back upstairs. I don't think [my family] knew what was going on. But then I told my grandmother and my mom. They were the only two that knew. I didn't want to tell [the rest], because I wouldn't believe it until I saw it. And I was like, "Is it real?"
Tevita Ofahengaue (2001, Pick #246, Arizona Cardinals): I get a call from the Tennessee Titans, and they tell me, "We’re gonna take you in the fourth round." And then fourth round comes and Tennessee picks another tight end. The last two picks were Baltimore Ravens and the Arizona Cardinals. I get a call on the phone, an Arizona number: "Hey, this is coach so-and-so, we’re gonna take you the last pick of the draft." Well, they just told me that three rounds ago. So Paul Salata comes walking up, and he goes, "With the 2001 Mr. Irrelevant, the Arizona Cardinals pick"—and then he looks down, and then he looks up, and then he looks down again, and I knew he couldn’t say my name. I was like, "Holy crap! It’s me!"
Tim Toone (2010, Pick #255, Detroit Lions): I thought I'd go sooner than later. But rounds kept going, [and teams] kept calling back: “If we can't get you, we still want you after the draft if you want to sign [as a free agent].” I had seen a couple guys go before that I thought I had outperformed. Great players, but my competitive nature, I was like, “Man, they got picked; why haven't I gotten picked yet?” Right when the last pick came up, or just right before, Detroit called and they're like, “We're going to make you Mr. Irrelevant.” It was super exciting. My mom started to get kind of loud, and I was trying to hush her down, like, "Hey, I can't hear. Let me talk to them first."
Marty Moore: I'm jumping up and down, and the phone rings. My mom picks up, and she's like, "Hey Marty, [New England Patriots head coach] Bill Parcells is on the phone." Meanwhile, she's still on the phone at this time. Bill Parcells is like, "Hey Marty, I'm Bill Parcells, glad to have you on board, really looking forward to it." And then he goes, "You're Mr. Irrelevant. There's gonna be a guy from Orange County, California, who's gonna call you. His name's Paul Salata, you're gonna go out there and do a week of fun. Just be looking for a phone call." So I run back out to ESPN and I go, "Wow, I'm the last guy. Draft's over. I'm the very last pick."
Ronnie McAda (1997, Pick #240, Green Bay Packers): My boys, when they were a little bit younger, they used to tell everybody, "My dad was the pick right before Peyton Manning." And people would go, "Huh? Peyton Manning was the #1 pick." And they'd be like, "Yeah, but my dad was the last pick the year before that."
The Salatas—with the help of donors and sponsors who gift products, event spaces, and meals—have raised more than $1 million for a number of charities (including the American Cancer Society, Big Brothers, Big Sisters, the YMCA, and Special Olympics). But it's no stodgy benefit. Mr. Irrelevant can do just about anything he wants over the days and long nights of his party—even if that means going clubbing with Hugh Hefner's girlfriends.
Melanie Fitch (CEO, Irrelevant Week): I'll call the guy and say, "Congratulations, you're Mr. Irrelevant! What do you want to see? What do you want to do?” One guy wanted to meet Playboy Bunnies. And one guy wanted to meet Will Ferrell. And someone else wanted to meet Halle Berry. And someone else wanted to meet Jerry Rice. We want to make this very special for this 15 seconds of fame. The next-to-the-last guy is back at Whoville, going, “Could you pass the corn for me, please? Can I get first bite?"
Tim Toone: When I was in Detroit, one of the Gronkowskis, he was the second-to-last pick. So we always talked and he always joked about: "Man, one pick away from actually getting stuff and having a fun time."
Tevita Ofahengaue: They were asking, "Do you know how to play basketball?" Or something like that. And I said, "I played, my game is like Dennis Rodman." And then he comes to my event. Shook my hand, gave me a hug, and he was obviously wearing a bra. Like, a flower-print bra. He didn’t remember anything. He was heavy on that stuff.
Ronnie McAda: Melanie Fitch called and she starts telling me about Mr. Irrelevant Week, and I had no clue what was going on. She starts asking me all these questions: “What kind of dog do you like? What kind of vehicle do you like? What kind of cologne?” I'm going, Wow, I'm getting a new dog, a new car.
Tevita Ofahengaue: Paul Salata calls me and says, "Hey, you’re our first married guy, so we’re gonna fly you and your whole family." So I’m like, "Are you sure my whole family? I don’t know if you know any Polynesians." He's like, "Yeah, I think it’ll be cool." So when you go to Disneyland, they give you all the tickets. They gave me 100 tickets. I only had one extra ticket when we went to Disneyland. I took about 90-something people with me, and they paid for everything—hotel rooms, flights, limo service to and from for the whole week. I add up the numbers, and I got more signing bonus than freakin’ Michael Vick, who was the first pick.
Ryan Succop (2009, Pick #256, Kansas City Chiefs): The whole idea of the week is to celebrate you, but at the same time, definitely to make fun of you. So when you're a kicker and your last name is Succop and you're the last guy picked, they have a lot of ammunition going into that week. They have a parade for you at the Balboa Yacht Club in Newport Beach. There's all these multimillion-dollar yachts, and they bring me around to the back of the marina and say, “You're going to make your grand entrance into the marina, because everyone's waiting for you on the beach.” I’m thinking I'm going to come in on this awesome boat, and out of the corner comes this little boat with a five-horsepower engine. I look at the guy that's with me, and I'm like, “That's what I'm coming on, isn't it?” And he's like, “Oh yeah, that's you, buddy.” My grand entrance was in a little canoe with a five-horsepower engine beside all these million-dollar yachts.
Melanie Fitch: We used to have a golf tournament that was called Run and Gun and Golf. It didn't matter how many times you hit the ball. It was timed. These guys were running the course. Every hole on the golf course had something else weird going on. A St. Pauli Girl would have you drink a beer, then put the cup upside down over your ball and you'd have to hit it off a tee through the cup. We put marshmallows all over the green, so you can't tell which one's your ball and which is a marshmallow. And then these gals would have these hockey sticks on roller skates, and they'd try to hit you. One hole had these guys dressed as doctors, and they'd throw tortillas and body parts at you, like these rubber fingers. You had to putt through the hands and the legs.
Ronnie McAda: The pub crawl was pretty cool. They had a big ol’ rope and you'd grab hold and they'd walk us to a bar and we'd stay there for about an hour and dance and sing, drinking a lot of shots. Then they'd say, “All right, off to the next one.” You'd grab the rope and went to another bar and do the same thing. I can't remember most of them. My fiancée went, and my parents went. And then a bunch of people from California. I don't know how all those people got in. I just know they showed up.
Melanie Fitch: The Playboy Bunny thing was hard. There was a TV show called The Girls Next Door, and David Vobora [2008, St. Louis Rams] wanted to meet the specific ones that were Hefner's girlfriends. He went and had dinner with Hef and the Girls Next Door. They’re in their lingerie, and he's watching movies with them. And then Hef introduced him to the next centerfold—he brought a couple more gals out—and went to bed, and then they went clubbing. A fun part of this story is that Mr. Irrelevant has a guide, because some people will start believing that he's famous or whatever; girls are throwing themselves on him. There's a code word. If there's a person they're talking to who they prefer not to talk to, they can say their code word. Like a president. The night of the Playboy Mansion, they made it very clear that it was just David, no one else. So the guide that drove David up there, he was like, “I'm not supposed to let him out of my sight! I have to go, too! It's the law!” Then [when] they're going to go clubbing, he's like, “Well, I gotta stay with him.” We had to get a different guide the next day.
Tim Toone: They took me to Disneyland. Took me to Toon Town to do a little play on my last name. You usually get a blimp ride, but that was down for repairs. So I just went and talked with the captain of the blimp. They gave me tickets to ride at another time. But still haven't been able to get out there. I have no idea where I put the tickets.
Marty Moore: I knocked down Mickey Mouse at Disneyland. They were like, go in there and act like you're going to tackle Mickey. Well, I come barreling in there and I hit Mickey, and Mickey goes flying. And I'm like, holy crap, I just knocked the hell out of Mickey Mouse. I'm apologizing to the little girl or whoever was playing Mickey Mouse.
Melanie Fitch: Tevita was married and had four kids. So, instead of a golf tournament, we did a mini-golf tournament. Because he came with his kids. He came with about 100 million people, but he came with his kids. So we're doing miniature golf. But we're still doing, like, shots on the third hole.
Kalan Reed: One morning we did a cycling class at, like, six in the morning. I didn't ask to do a cycling class. They kind of threw me in there. I didn't know what I was getting into. I was pretty tired.
Melanie Fitch: That poor guy. He goes into this thing with a hoodie. It's like a thousand degrees in this room. I'm like, “Don't you want to get down to a Speedo or something?” We threw it on him. He doesn't get to ask for everything. [laughs]
Kalan Reed: And later that day, we went to the beach and surfed. Well, tried to surf. I never got up.
Melanie Fitch: One year, we had a New England Patriots [player] and Belichick wasn't gonna let him come. He said, “Irrelevant Week's a farce. I'm not letting him go.” So I had to call the commissioner—Tagliabue at that time—and he had to call the owner and ask him to make it happen. So he got to come out. But because it was this power play thing, they said he had to be back at 7:30 A.M. Friday morning [because] there's a practice. So we get [special] clearance from the airport. Thursday night was his Lowsman Banquet, where he gets his trophy. Orange County airport isn't open late enough, so we get a police escort to take him up to LAX, throw him through security, run him to the plane, throw him on the plane. He gets to Boston, where the Patriots practice. Driver meets him at the plane, pulls him off, gets him to the practice field. And practice field is locked up. It was a total lie. Belichick knows that I'm not really pleased with him.
The week of parties and low-grade mockery ends, but being a Mr. Irrelevant lasts forever. Especially when you're an NFL rookie with teammates who constantly remind you.
Ryan Succop: In the NFL, you have new guys coming in all the time, and you'll be sitting in the ice bath or something, and you'll introduce yourself. And they're like, “Oh, weren't you Mr. Irrelevant a while ago?” I always mess with the guys and tell them crazy gifts [I got], all kinds of stuff that's not true. Especially if there's a guy that was like a couple picks away from being Mr. Irrelevant, I throw in all kinds of stuff: million dollars cash, whatever I'm feeling that day. And I don't tell them I'm joking. I've had some guys like, "Dang, man. I told my agent it would've been better if I was Mr. Irrelevant!"
Chandler Harnish (2012, Pick #253, Indianapolis Colts): [Andrew Luck] was the very first pick. I was the very last. So we were the bookends of the draft. We’re close friends to this day. I kinda throw myself in there: "Oh yeah, we were probably one of the better classes that the Colts ever had."
From Reggie Love to Chris Paul to Don Cheadle.
Marty Moore: I think it dawned on me as I was driving back that [draft] day, from Cincinnati to Lexington, just thinking, Man, I was the last pick. But I didn't know what it meant until my rookie year in New England. We would walk a half mile back and forth to the practice field. During that time, everybody would call me Mr. Insignificant. And I'm like, "It's Irrelevant, asshole." [laughs] All they knew is I was the last pick. I think I had something to prove to everybody. I'd been an All-American. And I was like, "These guys don't think I'm big enough or fast enough to play this game."
I got into a fistfight the very first day of practice. I wasn't taking shit off of anybody. One of the linemen had cheap-shotted me. I told him, "You do that again and you're not gonna wanna see what happens." Next play, he did the same thing, and I turned around and just started punching the hell out of him. Lifted his face mask off, started punching him in the throat. Parcells was all mad. But I think it just kind of showed that I wasn't gonna take anything off of anybody. I was the last guy drafted, but I'm starting against the Dolphins as a rookie.
Tim Toone: We have all these Detroit Lions T-shirts that say #255 on the back. My mom still wears those around a lot. ["Mr. Irrelevant"] is on my résumé for sure.
Tevita Ofahengaue: Even all my e-mails, all my texts have tags with Mr. Irrelevant on it. That’s a pretty cool name, and I think it fits me. Even though I didn’t see an All-Pro or whatever it is, I think I beat the odds as far as just getting drafted. When you’re young, at one point in time, you had a dream: I wish I was an NFL player. My dad is so proud, my mom is so proud. My parents were immigrants. They came here as missionaries, and they ended up staying. And their whole goal was to get a better education for their kids. That’s why I’ve taken that Mr. Irrelevant name so good, because I really am irrelevant. I shouldn’t have even been here in college. When I graduated, I had four kids and I was 28, so the odds were really against me.
Ronnie McAda: How many people actually get drafted into the NFL? There were 240 of us that got drafted my year. I was number 240. I'm just happy to be a part of that.
Kalan Reed: It doesn't bother me at all. It was a lifelong dream of mine to be drafted. It just happened at the end.
