Football season has finally arrived. It’s time to start reviewing my draft strategy for my fantasy leagues. It’s not an easy task, since these days you need to factor in the probability that some sort of crime spree may affect your roster on any given day. “Oh great… my QB tore his rotator cuff and my stud RB got hammered and drove his Escalade through a Chuck E Cheese, maiming a bevy of six year olds and a pimply adolescent in a rat suit.” That’s how I envision my waiver wire scrambles beginning this season. I’m fairly certain that I’ll experience a handful of DUI benchings and at least one player who beats his wife and/or girlfriend without any consideration for the fact that he’s my number one wide-out. Selfish bastard.
I have to say that there appears to be a very unbalanced justice system out there when you look at several of the highly publicized crimes in the NFL recently. Michael Vick was sentenced to 23 months in prison after his guilty plea stemming from the dog fighting spectacle, while Donte Stallworth served 24 days of a 30 day sentence for inadvertently hitting a human being with his car and killing him. Hmm… there seems to be some confusion on the value of human life. Stallworth ‘cooperated’ with authorities and received a lot of credit for dialing 911 instead of fleeing the scene. Are you kidding me? If you find yourself in a situation where you’re loaded on the side of a Florida highway, scraping a day laborer off the grill of your vehicle, a call to 911 is pretty much expected. He’s just lucky the scene of the crime wasn’t New York. Ask Plaxico Burress. This idiot came within inches of blowing his own nuts off with his Glock pistol. It’s not exactly a Mensa move to tuck a gun into the waistband of your sweatpants, but the dude shot HIMSELF. I’ve ‘accidentally’ done shots in a bar, but thus far have managed to avoid getting shot. Plexi-glass will receive a prison sentence of two years for criminal possession of a weapon and reckless endangerment. He could have killed someone…but he didn’t.
I’ve come a long way in the five seasons I’ve been drafting fantasy teams, but I still have a disadvantage that is directly related to the fact that I don’t have a penis. If a player disappoints me in any given week, I am very likely to bench his ass regardless of whether it makes sense. My emotions get the better of me and I somehow feel like I’m punishing said player by not allowing him to participate in my squad. To my credit, I have stopped attempting to draft all attractive players. There’s not really much eye candy once you get past that scrumptious Tom Brady. I play in several leagues, one being an all female league. This league produces the harshest ‘smack’ talk I’ve been exposed to. Broads can be vicious when thrust into the ultra-competitive world of FFB. It’s a no holds barred approach with some of the cruelest attacks on the planet. The difference is that, the estrogen actually makes us feel guilty and we end up apologizing and begging for forgiveness within ten minutes.
Most of the girls are pretty intense and have impressive knowledge of the game of football. With that being said, there’s always the chick that wants to play and finds herself in over her head. Coincidentally, this is usually the same person who auto-drafts and manages to win the league while all of us strategists MF her up and down. One of my best friends, Michelle is one of these FFB idiot savants. When she was sent the league invite for the online draft, she responded with questions on where she should meet us on draft day. I explained that we would be on the Worldwide Web, and the confusion compounded. She couldn’t comprehend how it could be considered ‘live’ if it weren’t face to face communication. The next inquiry was “Is it multiple choice?” The second week of the season I received a frantic call from her because she needed advice. “I have six players on a B N! I don’t know what to do!” As it turns out, a “B N” is in fact the dudes on your bench, genius. I have to give her credit for eventually learning, or at least making a convincing statement out of pretending she knew what she was doing. Now that I think about it, she’s the same girl I caught singing ‘Hang on Snoopy’ which resulted in many ‘It’s a tailgate party, Charlie Brown’ references from yours truly. The look of utter confusion on her face when I asked her what the S in ‘O-S-I-O’ meant was absolutely priceless. For all of her adult life, she was confident that the ‘S’ represented ‘State’. “Well then, princess, what does I-O stand for?” There it was…the lightbulb. We were actually spelling a WORD! In fact, it was the very state she was born in and resided in her entire lifetime. I now know how Charlie Babbitt felt when Rainman seemed to grasp a particular concept. It was a very special moment, indeed.
Oh well, I’m drafting three teams this year. I’m fairly confident that I’ll over prepare and under perform. My lack of delivery in most leagues makes me the Digiorno of fantasy football, and I’m alright with that. At least I’ll have the opportunity to insult some friends with little or no repercussions. It also takes my mind off the fate of my beloved Cleveland Browns.
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