Are You Ready For Some Football?

I am, and because of that, I was talked into participating in yet another season of fantasy football.

Actually, you don’t have to do much convincing to get me to play fantasy football. I’m usually up for at least one league a year. Heck, back in my younger, crazier days I used to manage a couple different teams at a time. But, those carefree days are long since behind me, and these days I devote 100% of my football time to just one team. I’ve found it’s much easier on everyone involved.

I had made the command decision about a month ago that I wasn’t going to play in a league this year. Given my uncertain job status I figured it would be best if I took the season off to devote my time to some more important things in life – like staying gainfully employed, for instance.

However, my buddy Fredo told me he and some of his buddies were starting a league and needed some extra bodies. And, it was a day or so later that my employer decided to give us a stay of execution at work, so I figured this was the Football Gods' way of telling me that I could not let a year go by without another fun-filled season of fantasy football to potentially drive me crazy.

Thus, my poor wife is subjected to another three months of my dropping F-bomb after F-bomb when some random 3rd string running back rushes for a meaningless touchdown and subsequently causes me to lose a close game.

As a primer - for those of you of who have no idea whatsoever what fantasy football is, I say two things. First of all – I envy you. To not have this scourge be a part of your everyday life from September through December is a freedom I will never enjoy again, without the assistance of some blunt force trauma to the head leaving me with amnesia.

[Note to self: immediately hide all bats, golf clubs and anything else that could conceivably be used by my wife to suddenly start bludgeoning me over the head.]

Secondly, fantasy football is a game whereby a group of guys get together and “draft” actual players from the NFL and play games, where the players score points for your team based upon their actual game statistics. You play throughout the football season, and the top one or two teams usually win some money at the end of the year.

By the way, I will be 39 in a couple of months. Just thought it warranted mentioning.

As so, it was with all the enthusiasm of my 3-year old when Thomas the Tank Engine comes on TV, that I came into our league’s draft last night. Actually, the experience was somewhat disjointing, in that I was not at the location where the draft was taking place, but instead was listening in via conference call. This is because all the other guys were out on the coast, while I was, um… not.

So, for the record, my poor wife not only has to deal with my temper tantrums every Sunday for the next three months, but she also got to spend all of last evening taking care of both of our kids, while I drank beer and contemplated on which football players I wanted to draft for a team in a pretend football league.

And how is it that she hasn’t divorced me yet?

And, while I could give you all a blow-by-blow recap of what happened, instead I will instead just offer up some stats of my own – since this is a stats-based league, after all:

12 – Number of Teams in our league.

16 – Number of Rounds in the draft.

3:53 – Amount of time I spent on the phone listening to the buffoons on the other end drinking and slurring their picks.

4 – Number of internet screens I was toggling between, trying to get as much up to the minute data as humanly possible.

10 – Number of beers I consumed throughout the evening.

2 – Number of times I nearly spilled beer on my new laptop.

5 – Number of pee breaks I took throughout the draft.

$120 – Total amount of prize money that goes to the league winner. It’s a winner-take-all format. Yes, we’re high rollers.

1 – Number of team owners at the bar who almost got into a drunken brawl.

1 – Number of confirmed reports of team owners vomiting upon returning home.

6 – Number of times a player I wanted to draft was taken within three picks of when I wanted to draft said player, causing me to blurt out an F-bomb and – subsequently – causing my wife to either A) shoot me a dirty look; B) look like she was contemplating throwing something at me, but instead just rolling her eyes and turning away or C) start perusing the phone book for divorce attorneys.

As you can see, it was quite the eventful evening. Thankfully, I made it to the end without screwing up anything major and kept my cursing to a minimum. And, more importantly – for the first time that I can remember, I actually feel good about the team I drafted. Whether or not that will lead to success is anyone's guess, but I can tell you one thing for sure – it won't be quiet around my house on Sunday's for the next few months.

[Note to self: rip out all listings for local divorce attorneys out of phone book. Just to be safe...]