As it stands today, current Ohio State quarterback Terrelle Pryor can apparently apply for the NFL's supplemental draft if he decides he either doesn't want or won't be allowed to be the Buckeyes quarterback this season.
So that five-game NCAA suspension that Pryor was supposedly going to serve at the start of school year for his rather sizable role in Tattoo-gate? Fuhgetaboutit.
That far more serious NCAA penalty that could be forthcoming for Pryor's mysterious ability to drive six different vehicles over the past three years and receive traffic citations in three of those rides despite having no visible income and a recently suspended license? Fuhgetaboutthat, too.
Assuming Pryor applies and the NFL follows through with the curious draft it first began staging in 1977, Priors Pryor will pretty much pay no personal penalty for his role in battering the Bucks.
He'll just pack up whatever mementoes he hasn't already sold to boosters, say hello to life and good-bye to Columbus and move on to the pros, where his cars, tattoos and controversial collegiate career will be far more the rule than the exception.
Isn't the life of the pro athlete grand?
Or the NFL could put a stop to this. It could decide that Pryor and the rest of his Buckeye teammates in the NCAA cross-hairs aren't worthy of a supplemental draft. After all, only 40 players have been taken over those 33 years. Yes, the rule was intended for those who missed the filing deadline or had other issues arise that affected their college eligibility, and Pryor is almost certainly experiencing the latter at the moment.
But it was surely never intended to shelter NCAA violators from their misdeeds. So why not pass a rule that states all future supplemental draft entries must be declared eligible by the NCAA for anything other than bad grades. If a kid's ruled ineligible for academic deficiencies after the April NFL draft - and thus unable to play his senior season - he can apply, since that tends to be an individual school issue.
But if he's broken NCAA rules or violated drug policies, he's out. Tough luck. Call us back next year.
In the short term, this would deliver a couple of public relations pluses for an NFL that's badly in need of some positive publicity.
First, it would allow NFL commissioner Roger Goodell an opportunity to show he values college athletics, its ideals and principles. If the NCAA thinks you've earned a suspension for bad behavior, we do, too.
Lawyers could obviously challenge each case individually - there might even be the need for an independent review panel - but in cases such as Pryor's, justice would hopefully be served, because there's no justice if the player moves from a Sugar Bowl he should never have been allowed to play in to the NFL without ever missing a game for a serious breach of NCAA rules.
Second, it would further Goodell's image as a tough-love commish who really does want membership in the world's most successful pro sports league to be viewed as a priviledge rather than a right.
And from a long-term view, if college athletes feared that bad collegiate behavior might delay their professional careers, they just might be less likely to break rules, which would be good for everyone.
This isn't to paint Pryor as the lone gunman in Ohio State's crime. If disgraced coach Jim Tressel wasn't necessarily the mastermind, he was at least the enabler. Pryor merely did what most economically disadvantaged youth would do if presented an opportunity to make money and lead a more comfortable life. This isn't to defend his actions but merely to say it's a lot easier to judge if you haven't walked in his Nikes.
Still, Pryor got a lot of p.r. milage out of agreeing to a five-game suspension for this season in exchange for playing in last year's Sugar Bowl.
To now allow his entrance into a supplemental NFL draft without serving that penalty would be more shameful than Priors Pryor's original wrongs.