My apologies to all of the nymphomaniacs who may have gotten to this post due to my suggestive titling, but I have to let you off here and tell you that there will be no talk of sex, Kama Sutra R&D or proper procedure when it comes to bringing food into the bedroom. I was simply being cheeky. Now that we are done with that, let us continue with the main attraction.
Football season is here.
The college season started last Thursday and the NFL starts tomorrow night, with the Cowboys of Dallas and the Giants of New York (said with the accent of Prince Akeem from Coming To America). I don't know about you, but I am boiling over with excitement. While I was unable to get DirectTV in the new house (no view of the southern skies...stupid trees) and will therefore not get the enjoyment of the Sunday Ticket or the RedZone channel, I'm still pumped.
My awful Redskins might be just a smidgen less awful this year as they drafted Robert Griffin III (AKA RG3) out of Baylor University. I wonder if Mike Shanahan knows how to work with a mobile quarterback, you know? the whole keys to the Ferrari, but no idea how to drive it sort of issue. There's also the minor problem of no solid running back and an often weak offensive line. So I expect the defense to get a lot of it done this year. My expectations are pretty low though.
However, my prep for the season has been, suffice to say, less than anytime over the last seven years. You see, I was a fantasy football junkie.
Normally, last week I would have been surrounded by fantasy magazines, reading four different websites, choosing a keeper, memorizing team schedules, setting up my draft list and of course coordinating my league as well as preparing for two other leagues. That won't be happening this year because I quit fantasy football.
When I announced this to people last December, most people told me that once the new season came around that so would I. Well, that hasn't happened. Other people simply said I would buckle. Guess what? I haven't. And a few people told me that I would miss it if I didn't play. You know what? They were kinda of right...kind of.
December 19th, 2011, I went (what some people may refer to as) batshit crazy.
I was in the semifinals of one of my leagues (as I had already tanked in another league, all of my focus was here), already leading the weekly match and had Roethlisberger to play while my opponent only had the San Francisco 49ers defense left. I was a near shoe in. All I needed was maybe a touchdown to make it official and no interceptions or defensive touchdowns. The game was slow, but I was managing. Unfortunately, Roethlisberger threw three interceptions and had two fumbles (one was recovered, the other was not). To you fantasy uninitiated, that's a goddamn death sentence.
I lost the game. I lost the other two leagues I was in too. I also yelled at the Mrs.
The first two weren't the problem. The last one was.
I don't think I said anything horrific. Certainly nothing nice. She just started to poke a little fun at me for my over reaction to the game (I was known for screaming at the TV, punching the living room table, cussing up a storm...and overall being an utter displeasure to be around especially if I was losing).
After about 30 minutes, when I had cooled down from the loss and was starting to drift back down to that place they call reality, I realized what a schmuck I had been to the Mrs. The worst part is that this wasn't the first time either. I almost immediately emailed my league and the other two leagues I played in to let them know I would not be back the following season. Then I went in and apologized to the Mrs.
I had let this asinine (although admittedly addictive) game of fantasy football ruin my nights, and ooze into my relationships as well. I also realized that I no longer watched football the way I used to. Before it was just one or two games, and it was fun. All of a sudden I had to be able to watch several games and it was an all day affair.
Sundays and Monday nights were football nights. I rarely left the house or my computer. I had to know what my score for the week was at every moment. If one player was crapping up my day, then I was already trying to trade him to another team. When he would perform some sort of magic trick, netting me some points, I would go back and delete the trade. This went on for ten hours every Sunday. On top of that, as I was the commissioner in my league, I also had to listen to my friends gripe about accepted trades, rules they weren't aware of, or changing their rosters because they were out of town without a computer. Oh yeah, and I never won ANY of my leagues...never once in those seven years.
So I quit.
This season, I am bringing it back to normal. Sure, I will still probably cuss up a storm and throw a few fits while watching my beloved Redskins, but that's about it. Sundays will be a part of the weekend again, you know? time to spend with the family (or maybe play some golf - thanks sweets!). I'm looking forward to paying attention to one team again - the Redskins in case I hadn't mentioned it. I am ecstatic to not know any stats coming into this season. I feel brand new and fresh out of the box!
Sure, there is still a little part of me that misses it. I'm a competitive SOB, what can I say? Just yesterday, we took the family to Wild Wings, a local restaurant with great chicken wings, for dinner. At one of the tables, I noticed there were a dozen folks participating in a fantasy draft. I was tempted to sneak a peak at what round they were in, and who had been taken up to that point, but I resisted. Even the Mrs said that the location for a fantasy draft was pretty cool. I just said "yeah, it is" and then headed off to change the Taz's diaper.