Does the name Semih Erden ring a bell? No, I didn't think so. He is one of about 10 Euros whose name was called during Thursday night's NBA Draft, with his being the very last of the 60 selected.

Personally, I couldn't be more disappointed.

No phone call. No text message. No nothing.

Back in February, I decided to re-dedicate myself to improving my overall physical health and find a reason to no longer shake my head in shame when I look in the mirror.

Some accused me of going through a mid-life crisis (at the age of 29?) but were only mistaken. I just wanted to give the pro franchises a little icing to the cake of my athletic abilities. As you can tell, I am still employed by the Times-Gazette (this is not a diary from training camp) and no general managers have called in hopes of getting me to ink a contract.

The NFL completed their draft with eyes wide shut despite my illustrious intramural career as a signalcaller at Alabama-Huntsville. Over 20 wins as a starter/coach/offensive coordinator apparently don't add up to a hill of beans, at least not compared to what Alex Brink brings to the table. Who? Yeah, that's exactly what I said when the Houston Texans passed on me for this kid out of Washington State.

All 30 MLB franchises turned their noses up to me despite showcasing a devastating breaking ball for the 20th straight year on the hill and an invaluable ability to pitch late into contests, including a pair of complete-game performances for the Shelbyville Sox where I logged over 130 pitches.

Don't even get me started on my expertise in keeping a scorebook or charting pitches. Big league teams take batting practice before almost every game. Somebody's gotta pick those balls up.

The NHL ... uh, well, who we kiddin'? I can't even skate. Moving on.

That left basketball with my final hope of being Shelbyville's version of Vince Papale.

After showing the ability to make free throws under pressure by making all eight attempts at the Elks Hoop Shoot Contest in Lewisburg at the age of 10, providing solid defense at the top of a 2-3 zone at Connelly Middle School and above average box out skills during UAH intramurals, I expected a little more out of the NBA scouts.

It is tough to break into the NBA as a 5-foot-10, 200-pound 30-year-old, but I possess intangibles that these other youngsters simply don't.

I could go on for days about what I could bring to the table during postgame press conferences, providing dazzling quotes one right after another.

Then, there's the ability to model the warm-up attire throughout each game and show the average fan how it hangs off someone closer to their size.

With the NBA Cares program when we visit schools and read to children, it's not like they're going to be scared seeing a person of my frame enter the classroom.

Oh, and let's not forget my talents as a designated driver and ability to "fast talk" to keep a teammate out of a late-night brawl.

No illegitimate children. No DUIs. No failed drug tests.

If a teammate needed me to strap in as a wingman on the dance floor, I'm there. One less uniform to have to wash at the end of the night. A more-than-salary-cap-friendly contract. And, I'm not too proud to have to be the guy to pick up the dry erase board off the ground after an angry time out.

I'm at a total loss at this point in trying to follow the schools of thought for all these GMs. Guess I'll keep lugging around this backpack of camera equipment, note pads and recorders for awhile longer.

Danny Parker is sports editor of the Times-Gazette.