Bob Cook

The NFL scouting combine’s poking, prodding and running prospects like livestock in a county fair show is about more than seeing who might perform well in pro football. It is also about providing teams plausible deniability when most of those prospects don’t.

Plausible deniability is making a decision based not on what would be great for an organization, but based on how you can cover your posterior if the decision goes wrong. Plausible deniability is about gathering the necessary evidence to prove that subsequent failure came not from your decision, but from the failure of the person on whom you decided.

Looking over NFL draft history it appears teams, collectively, had just as high a success rate back when they tossed darts at a copy of "Street & Smith’s" as they do now. However, the combine gives general managers and scouts an excuse about why they did or didn’t take a certain guy, despite all the film evidence of how he actually, you know, played football. "I don’t get it — he only bench-pressed 250 pounds 10 times!"

"I don’t get it – he ran a 4.31 40!" "I don’t get it — he only got a 10 on the Wonderlic!"

Did Mike Mamula teach us nothing? Or Vince Young, who was supposed to be the stupidest human alive based on his alleged Wonderlic score last year?

Actually, the workout wonders who couldn’t play football, or the workout duds who could, do enter the minds of general managers and scouts. But there is a lot of room for overthinking, for getting the plausible deniability you need to show someone should have been a star, or not, and it’s not your fault for not knowing the difference before the draft.

For example, Louisiana State’s JaMarcus Russell and Notre Dame’s Brady Quinn are providing teams with plausible deniability at the combine, even though like most big names, they will save their plausibly deniable workouts for another day, away from the hoi polloi.

The 6-foot-5 Russell, who could be picked first by the Raiders, is the talk of Indianapolis because he showed up at 265 pounds, even though his program weight at LSU was 255. Ten pounds overweight!

Special report Round-by-round recap, analysis, more

Forget the 3,128 yards and 28 touchdowns he racked up last season on his way to leading LSU to a No. 3 ranking. Russell just became the equivalent of the brilliantly qualified applicant who missed a small typo on his resume, or showed up for the job interview after having spilled coffee on his tie. Gee, if he can’t get it together for the combine, can he get it together for the Denver game? If Oakland decides to pass on Russell, this is the kind of plausible deniability that will enter into the decision-making. (Because, you know, that worked so well for Houston last year in passing on Young.)

Quinn, meanwhile, might show in Indianapolis just to say hello.

That is one more sign, I hear the ESPN analysts tell me, that Quinn just might not be competitive enough for pro football. After all, the whispers go, Quinn never won a big game in college.

Those are the whispers of plausible deniability. Forget that Quinn owns 36 Notre Dame passing records, including most career touchdowns (95) and passing yards (11,614). Or that he set a school record in 2006 with 226 consecutive passes without an interception, beating his own record of 130. Sure, he might be a great quarterback, but how come he couldn’t beat USC or Michigan? If Quinn starts dropping out of the top 10, you’ll know plausible deniability will be on a rampage.