COMMENTS & CURIOSITIES:Being picked last has its rewards

Does no one listen to you? Nobody cares what you say? When you tell your significant other you feel like you’re not even there, like you don’t exist, does he or she say, “I’m sorry … what?”

Don’t beat yourself up. It’s not your fault. You could be irrelevant. Ramzee Robinson is, and he’s thrilled about it.

Robinson, a blazing-fast cornerback from the University of Alabama, was the last man standing and the final player chosen in this year’s NFL Draft — picked late and last, but picked nonetheless by the Detroit Lions.

As a Crimson Tide standout, Robinson not only broke up a whole lot of pass plays but earned a Bachelor’s Degree in Business Management, thank you.

So who was the No. 1 pick? Louisiana State quarterback Russell JaMarcus, who went to the Oakland Raiders. Big deal. I think being No. 255 out of 255 is much more cool. More to the point, it means that Ramzee Robinson is Mr. Irrelevant XXXII, which means Mr. Irrelevant Thirty-Two, which you would know if you were an ancient Roman, which you’re not because they’re all gone.

It all started XXXI years ago, in MCMLXXVI, with Newport Beach celeb, contractor and cellist Paul Salata, who was a gridiron star at USC during the Franco-Prussian War, then went on to play pro football with the San Francisco 49ers and the Baltimore Colts, who are now the Indianapolis Colts, not the Baltimore Ravens, who used to be the Cleveland Browns although now there’s a new Cleveland Browns team.

While manning the phones for the 49ers at the MCMLXXVI NFL draft, Paul was struck by three things: the free food, the big hoopla over the first-round draft pick and the deafening silence over the last.

“They always made a big deal about the first guy picked,” Salata said. “So I thought, gee, what about the last guy? I decided to bring him to Newport Beach and have a big celebration just as if he was the first guy picked.” Boy, did he ever.

Faster than you could say, “Whatever happened to Yugoslavia?,” Irrelevant Week was a major-league big deal. Before long, NFL teams were juking and doing head fakes during the closing round of the draft in the hope of claiming the next Mr. Irrelevant. In MCMLXXIX, the NFL actually passed the “Salata Rule” to force teams to make their pick and restore some order to the closing round.

Now that Paul is 65 sort of, he has turned over the Irrelevant Week reins to his daughter, Melanie Salata Fitch, a very successful entrepreneur in her own right who owns a chain of canine Botox clinics, although they don’t treat Shar-Pei’s.

The week-long frenzy of exultation, celebration and general adulation for Mr. Irrelevant XXXII, all of which benefits a boatload of Orange County charities, begins tomorrow at 5:30 p.m. at the Newport Dunes Resort, with the Newport Beach Chamber of Commerce Arrival Party, which sounds a lot less crazy than it is.

Ramzee “Bino” Robinson will be saluted with a parade of Ford cars in honor of Detroit, which is where the Detroit Lions play, thus the name Lions, then escorted into the party by a band and cheerleaders, all of whom will be really loud.

Anyone and everyone is invited for the shockingly modest price of $15, which includes edible things.

The dust-up at the Dunes begins a firm and fully packed week of cruising Orange County and collecting all sorts of swag for the Robinson family, including a VIP tour of the Magic Kingdom on Tuesday, which often gets national coverage and includes a brief catch between Mr. Irrelevant and Mickey and Minnie, the latter two being famous mice from Anaheim. Don’t sell Minnie short. Take away the polka-dot skirt and the frilly panties and she can run a 40-yard dash in 4.2 and has an arm like a laser. Wednesday is a luncheon in the boardroom at First American Title with some of Orange County’s power elite, and Wednesday night is the “All-Star Lowsman Banquet” at the Newport Beach Marriott, with a roster of NFL and sports luminaries like Terry Donahue, Tom Flores, Tim Floyd, John Robinson and Leigh Steinberg.

That’s also where Ramzee Robinson will receive the highly coveted, kind of, “Lowsman Trophy” — another Salata inspiration and the polar opposite of the Heismann Trophy, featuring a shocked, open-mouthed receiver fumbling away the ball. Of course, nothing is more tongue-in-cheek about being named “Mr. Irrelevant” than the title itself, considering thousands of the top college players across the country would give up at least one body part to be picked in the NFL draft — first, last or anywhere else.

You’ll find me at tomorrow’s Kickoff Party at the Dunes and Wednesday night’s All-Star Lowsman dinner, but that’s only if your luck runs out. I’ll be serving as emcee tomorrow night and signing copies of my latest book, “I Used to Think I Was Real Indecisive: Now I’m Not So Sure.”

On the other hand, if you’d actually like to have some factual information about all this, call (949) 263-0727 or go to www.irrelevantweek.com.

Oh, almost forgot. If you’re a father, this is your day. Get out there and do something paternal. It’s important.

I gotta go.