VAN NUYS, Calif. –– There's a sucker born every second, a dummy every minute. And once every few years, an NFL GM hands Les Snead a gift so absurd, so ludicrous, that you half-expect Ashton Kutcher to pop out and tell us we've been Punk'd.
Without making a selection, the Rams may have won the first round of the 2025 NFL Draft.
Enter: the Atlanta Falcons.
The Rams turned the 2025 No. 26 pick and a fourth-rounder into No. 46, a throwaway seventh, and—oh, this is the good part—a 2026 first-round pick.
A first-rounder. In *2026*.
The year Arch Manning enters the league like a trust-fund prince strolling into his inheritance. Next year, half of the NFL will be jockeying to draft the next Burrow, the next Lawrence, and the next golden-armed savior. And the Falcons? They just gave the Rams a front-row seat to the fireworks.
Les Snead, the braintrust who built a Super Bowl winner by torching draft picks like Monopoly money, is suddenly hoarding them like a guy who just read The Prepper's Guide to the Apocalypse. The irony is so thick you could spread it on toast.
Snead's mantra of "F—k them picks" has become more like stack them picks.
The Rams had their Draft headquarters operate out of a helicopter hangar—because of course, they would. The symbolism writes itself.
This organization thrives in the smoke, turning a team's desperation into jet fuel.
The Falcons came to the table looking for a spark. They leave the first round with third-degree burns.
Atlanta moved back into the first round. Fine. They grabbed an extra fourth. Okay. But they gave up a future first in a draft that could be QB nirvana.
It's like trading your Powerball ticket for a scratch-off. It's like selling your Bitcoin in 2012 to buy a Blockbuster gift card. It's like… well, something the Falcons would do.
Picture a year from now. The Falcons are stuck in 5-12 purgatory (because they're the Falcons). That pick they gave up? It's sitting there, shiny and top-10, and Les Snead is cackling like a guy who just found a winning lotto ticket in his old jeans. Maybe he flips it for a superstar.
He may package the pick to draft Manning as the heir to Matthew Stafford. Perhaps he just lights it on fire for fun—because he can.
Meanwhile, some poor intern will get chewed out in Atlanta for suggesting they should've kept that pick. The cycle continues. The wheel turns. The Rams win again.
The Falcons have spent two decades trying to solve the QB riddle. Vick. Ryan. Ridder. Cousins (for a hot second). And now? They're out here paying future assets to move up for…James Pearce Jr., a defensive end out of Tennessee?
Meanwhile, Snead, who turned Jared Goff into Matthew Stafford into a Lombardi, just pocketed another lottery ticket.
The man understands leverage, timing, and the fact that some franchises are just born to be fleeced.
Embers still smolder in Los Angeles. The rotors from the hangar still hum.
Somewhere, Arthur Blank is staring at his phone, wondering if he just got taken for a ride.
Spoiler: He did.