Not going to lie, the idea of having your own personal island seems pretty awesome. That picture with the beautiful sandy beach and the crystal clear water in the background was definitely touched up to make it look like Adidas is offering up some Mediterranean paradise when they really just scooped up a glorified sandbar for cents on the dollar. Still, the crappiest of islands is still - by definition - an island and the utterance of that word combined with a brightly colored promotional picture will make the (wetness behind the) ears of 19-21 year old athletic prodigies perk up. I just think there has to be a Plan B in place if Adidas is going to have every cocky, presumptuous teenager over extending themselves while attempting to sprint fast enough to skip across the water en route to their (supposedly) prime real estate. For instance, if no one runs the 40 yard dash at the speed of sound and the ludicrously quick record remains unbroken then the island gets sold to the highest bidder to pay for the reconstruction of every ACL that gets torn at the combine. That seems fair to me, because at least a handful of prospects are going to try to defy every stopwatch they been clocked with during the months prior when they begin to picture a bunch of scantily clad broads seductively strewn under palm trees at the finish line. Maybe there is an incoming NFLer that runs like he's got a rocket up his asshole (that will soon realize that islands are also places where people go batshit crazy), but I'd say the probability that a player actually sticks a rocket in his asshole in hopes of trimming his time into the 4.1's is just as likely. It'll be nice for the latter to have his damages paid for when he gets burned by his mortal athleticism while trying to reach the lofty goal of recreating the 'Big Pimpin' video on his own property. Important Update: As predicted, all these islands are "end up sitting under a tree, rocking back and forth, giggling to yourself, and contemplating whether or not you're still in touch with your sanity" islands. Tom Hanks' character in 'Castaway' would have reinforced Wilson with any and all blunt objects and committed double homicide by bludgeoning himself with "him" if he spent more than 12 hours on one of these sea forests. I might even consider intentionally tacking a hundredth of a second or two on to my time if I knew I might have to worry about owning one of these lifeless barrens of hopelessness...
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