Posted by
Furious on Thursday, August 21, 2008 10:01:15 AM
This article has nothing to do with politics. Somehow today, I feel like taking a political day off and want to discuss what, for many, is a more powerful national force.
That force is called “fantasy football.”
It has been known to split the bonds of family. Completely spit up lifelong friends (if only for a season or two.) And I’m sure if I completely researched it, it may have even led to a divorce, assault and battery or even a homicide or two.
I’ve been involved in a few leagues over the past three or four years. They all start out as cordial, back slapping, high fiving mostly guy groups who may just substitute this form of competition from a childhood playground type that they no longer can physically do. Arthritis, bursitis, knee and back aches and even heart concerns leave a lot of us unable to perform as we once did. I’m convinced fantasy sports are just a substitute.
As friendly as they all begin, almost inevitably, hard feelings seem to sprout up along the way. As though losing a fictitious computer game to a rival by an artificial scoring system somehow diminishes one’s manhood.
Some leagues actually encourage “smack-talk”. That’s akin to stabbing your victim and then pounding your chest while standing over him. “Dissing” your opponent is also encouraged. That’s like what we used to call “ranking” on someone. You know, phrases like, “you suck”, “your mama is fat” “I da best” and on and on. For more examples, just tune in to MTV for an hour or so…you’ll get the idea and an earful of hate.
With all that being said, here is my tale of woe as I entered the world, for the first time, of fantasy commissioner this year.
I wanted to do a friends and family only private league. That would, almost necessarily, eliminate those who start out the season and then just quit playing. These lunatics are far more common in free public leagues, but can be found elsewhere. They are easily recognized by them playing in week 10 a quarterback who was jailed in week 4 on a marijuana charge. It kind of takes all the fun out of beating the guy; to say nothing of the ridicule you might suffer if the team beats your guys!
So I set it up with a private password and send out about a dozen invitations.
My son is first to sign up, then his girl and future brother-in-law. With me, that makes four-we need 12. Then a friend chimes in….we got five now.
Understand there is not an unlimited amount of time here to get to the magic number. I think about three weeks, is all. After that, the league is dissolved and we get to start over.
So, I then email #1 son who is in the Navy and has never played fantasy before.
He answers back in a few days and says “cool” because he has just joined a league on base. He also can not for the life of himself figure out how to log in and sign up. So, after going over a few things with him on the phone-while the grandkids were running and screaming in the background-I sort of gave up on the explanation part. I invented an identity and signed him up through my site.
I still have no confirmation from him if he even knows how to log on to the league’s web site, but his name is on the list.
Then I attempt to sign his wife up (she would be the bigger sports fan of the two). Now she has just moved to the Carolina hills and has almost no access to the internet (yet), so she says to go ahead and sign her up with another bogus account and phony address (since she really has no permanent one yet), so I do and she is also in.
We are now up to a shaky seven.
#2 son tells me his boss and his boss’s son wants to join. He said the same thing two weeks ago. Thusfar they have not done so.
One nephew never even acknowledged my invitation.
My sisters tribe does not do sports. Imagine that, people who couldn't care less about football, in America!
Another friend said maybe and never did change that stance. Every other friend, my age, either looked at me like I had three heads or laughed when I asked about fantasy football. I think most men over fifty, don’t do fantasy sports; they are either already dead, at a bar drinking themselves silly watching football, golfing or fishing.
I do hazily remember that I had nine fully vetted and duly signed up with 48 hours to go before the deadline. I panicked and took the league public-hoping to avoid the indignity of dissolution.
Big mistake.
I furiously sent out emails or phone calls to everyone I could contact and told them to change leagues ASAP. The three missing teams needed to be recognized would have to come from the public.
Of course, my plan did not go the way I had hoped. Before a few of the entrenched nine could switch their allegiance to the new league, five perfect strangers signed up. Now I had my twelve, but I had at least a couple of people upset as well.
I reasoned to myself, if everyone just took the two minutes out of their busy schedule a week or so ago and did what they said they wanted to do; my forcing the issue and unwittingly excluding a few players would not have happened.
The season hasn’t even started and my friends and my family may not be talking smack to me, but I sure sense they are thinking smack.
Me? Commissioner? Ever? Again? As a New Yorker might say: “fuggitaboutit!”