You ever heard the phrase “last but not least”? Well, in the NFL Draft, that isn’t just a polite nod — it’s a whole movement. While the cameras lock in on that No. 1 overall pick, and the analysts lose their minds over which QB’s going to which broken franchise, there’s one pick that sneaks in the backdoor, gets zero glitz — yet might just steal the damn show. It’s the guy drafted dead last. Mr. Irrelevant. The punchline turned underdog icon. But how the hell did being the final name on a 7-round, 3-day, 32-team marathon of a draft turn into an actual badge of honor? Sit tight, we about to pull back the curtain on one of the NFL’s most slept-on traditions — and why every fan should be staying up for pick No. 259.

Who is Mr. Irrelevant in the NFL draft?

Alright, so how do you go from no-name to household name as the last pick in the NFL Draft? Easy. You become Mr. Irrelevant. It’s the nickname given to the final player picked each year, a tradition that’s grown into a movement. In 2024, that honor went to Jaylen Key, selected with Pick No. 257. The DB went from draft board dust to a headliner in less than 10 seconds. And if you’re wondering why folks even care this much—well, thank Brock Purdy for putting that crown on the map.

See, Purdy wasn’t just the last NCAA college athlete picked in 2022. Pick No. 262. Last on the list. But when injuries hit San Francisco like a bad Wi-Fi signal, Brock Purdy stepped in and never looked back. The man went 5-0 as a starter, balled out in the playoffs, and by the next season, had the Niners one step from the Super Bowl again. That’s how legends start—with zero expectations and all heart. So now, being Mr. Irrelevant isn’t a joke—it’s a flex. Every last pick since is getting the spotlight, not just for fun, but because maybe, just maybe, they’re next.

The intriguing history of NFL draft’s Mr. Irrelevant

Let’s rewind the tape. 1976. This wideout named Paul Salata — USC alum, ex-NFL player — decided the last pick in the NFL Draft deserved more than just a shoulder shrug and a gray hoodie. He wanted it to mean something. So he started “Irrelevant Week”— a whole dang celebration in Newport Beach, California, to honor the final pick. Disneyland trips, regattas, MLB games, and that infamous Lowsman Trophy — picture the Heisman, but the guy’s fumbling the rock. It’s all tongue-in-cheek but dead serious in spirit. Salata said it best: “It’s not a negative to be picked last. It’s an honor to be picked at all.” And that quote right there? That’s what turned Mr. Irrelevant into a badge of grit.

The event’s even got heart — raising over $1 million for charities like the Special Olympics, Habitat for Humanity, and Big Brothers Big Sisters. So it’s more than just a punchline — it’s purpose with a party attached. And when Salata passed the torch (and eventually passed in 2021 at age 94), his daughter Melanie kept the legacy alive. That’s family, that’s tradition, that’s football.

Brock Purdy? He ain’t the first to flip the narrative, just the loudest. Ryan Succop (2009), Mr. Irrelevant kicker turned Super Bowl champ with the Bucs. Marty Moore (1994), the first to actually play in the big game. Even Tae Crowder (2020) came in hot with the Giants and led the squad in tackles. These aren’t flukes. They’re reminders that talent doesn’t always wear a first-round chain.

So yeah, you might get clowned on draft night. Might even walk that stage to side-eyes and shrugs. But Mr. Irrelevant has become the people’s pick — the Cinderella of the combine, the last laugh on a thousand mock drafts. And now, in an era where every inch of the league is literally televised, digitized, and Twitterized, the last pick might just be the most relatable. No hype, no agents talking crazy, no press tours — just a kid with a dream and a jersey with his name stitched on the back.

Tomorrow night, everyone’s going to be talking about Shedeur, Hunter, and Abdul Carter at the top of the board. But the real ones? They’ll be sticking around for that final pick. Because if Brock Purdy taught us anything, it’s this —don’t sleep on the bottom. That’s where the underdogs live, and sometimes, underdogs bite the hardest.