Dear assorted nerds, competitive statisticians, former high school athletes, Monday morning quarterbacks, disillusioned 9 to 5 corporate schlubs, ESPN interns, middle management suits, fanboys, compulsive gamblers, or as you are collectively known, Fantasy Football Owners-
It's 1 AM and it might be the Five Hour Energy that I chugged four hours ago, but I believe that I have something to say. We're at the tail end of the season within the season, the post-season before the post-season: Fantasy Football Playoffs. The past thirteen weeks of draft strategy and passive aggressive waiver claims have paid off for a select few. Although the NFL players might think they are competing for their own postseason spot, they are actually fighting for bragging rights. Although the Carolina Panthers are hoping for the #1 pick in the 2011 draft, there are plenty of owners praying that Jonathan Stewart hits the 100 yard mark this Sunday.
I was brought into Fantasy football by my father. He came home one day and said that we would be co-managing his work league. One of my fondest, earliest memories is screaming at him and kicking his shins for not starting Randy Moss on a Monday night. Then came middle school. Putting on our fathers' shoes, my friends and I started our own league. Then another. Then another. Soon, I was in four different leagues, arguing about why resetting the waiver priority each week is the worst idea since George Clooney as Batman. Dynasty. Keeper. PPR. Head to Head Roto. IDP. 10 yards per point. 15 yards per point. I've seen a million scoring systems, and I've rocked them all.
Fantasy Football, Baseball, Hockey, Basketball, you name it. I'm shocked that there wasn't a sort of Fantasy Fantasy Football where I could draft and trade other fantasy owners; the FFL version of credit default swaps.
Despite the word "fantasy," in a way it gets us closer to the actual game. It forces you to pay attention to every facet of the roster, all the way from the quarterback to the free safety. So that when blowhards like Colin Cowherd insist (as he does every other day) that "It's a quarterback league," you can show him that Michael Turner is taking the Falcons to the playoffs and not Matt Ryan.
Fantasy sports began as a way for men and women to reclaim some of their past glory. Not to live vicariously through athletes, but to play in conjunction with them. When you look at the NFL Draft and realize that these players, these gods, are younger than you, it can be a devastating revelation. You need to do something to spare yourself the agony. That's why they are now draft picks on your own team. You are in charge. In a move unprecedented post-14th amendment, you literally own these players.
It's moments when your home team quarterback is on your opposition's roster. Rooting for a point total high enough to ensure a victory for the 49ers, but not because Frank Gore rushed for 15o yards and two touchdowns. Trying to find the point on the offense/defense curve to maximize both your home team and your fantasy team.
But even though it may seem that everyone you know is in a league, it is becoming more and more apparent that it isn't true. This is just another delusion.
For every hardcore league commissioner, there is one who puts more stock in actual accomplishments than. Those who worry about calculating spreadsheets more than partial rushing yards. There are some who refer to Joe Flacco as their baby, raised and nurtured as a sleeper pick in '09. Then there are those who actually have children.
Fantasy owners (upper case "F") are looked down upon, shunned even by the nonbelievers. For example, here. The public feels the same about Fantasy owners as they do CNN during a Democratic administration: if they ever pay attention, it's only for the purpose of mockery. We are losing the war with the outside (read: real) world.
Why? It's not because you put effort into your draft strategy. It's not because you check the waiver wire daily and put in claims just to mess with your fellow owners. No. The world looks down upon us because we don't know the limits of the fantasy world: like that delusional kid in The Polar Express ringing a silent bell.
Problems emerge as soon as a fantasy owner begins to talk about his team to someone outside his/her league. It's when you tell the receptionist that you're having a bad Monday because you're kicking yourself for keeping Maurice Jones-Drew (MJD to the faithful) on the bench against the Baltimore defense. It's when you ask an outsider's perspective on whether DeSean Jackson or Jeremy Maclin is a better keeper for next year.
Bill Simmons compared listening to someone brag about fantasy sports to listening to how they were THIS CLOSE to winning a poker hand before the river. I think it's closer to listening to someone doing the worst Christopher Walken impression when he is convinced that he is, in fact, Bruce Dickinson.
It's not that the outsiders don't know what you're talking about. Statistics is not as foreign as dialect as we like to think. It's like they say, "It's only cute when your own kid does it."
I was listening to a buddy of mine go on and on about how he loves his matchup for the next two weeks and that Michael Vick was the year's greatest waiver wire pickup and that he wanted to take Crabtree but opted against it and yadda yadda yadda.
Suddenly, it occurred to me. I didn't care either.
I love fantasy sports and still I couldn't stand to listen to another rant about this guy's roster or who he was going up against this week.
We need to draw the line somewhere. And here it is. A solution that allows you to brag, boast and rosterbate, all while keeping fantasy sports in a higher regard. The new golden rule of fantasy conversations.
I don't want to hear about your f**king team if I am not a part of your league.
You can be as proud as you want about your roster, but keep the chatter between you, your God, and your league. The title of "League Champion" is only met with esteem from other participants. Imagine if the office douchebag mentions that he won his fantasy league. Does that change anything? He might have competed against braindead, mouth breathing Arizona State dropouts named Silas. It changes nothing. Congrats on winning your league. You still have to pay $4.50 for your peppermint Frappucino at Starbucks.
It might be the same sport, but we are not playing the same game. We didn't draft together. We don't play against each other. If we are never going to play head to head, I could honestly care less that you're thinking about starting Terrell Owens against the Browns. You drafted Wes Welker in a PPR league? Good for you. Do you know what I'd rather discuss about Wes Welker? Why his ESPN profile picture looks like a sex offender's mug shot.
It's the same as bragging about how you managed to play "EFFICIENT" on the triple word score. You weren't playing against me. You could have been playing against developmentally challenged third graders for all I care.
Then there is the problem of the same athlete occupying multiple rosters. Let's be honest: you are never proud to be eskimo cousins with someone else. It is never a happy rapport. So even if we both took Ray Rice in the first round, it doesn't make us brothers. All it means is that we had the 7th pick in the draft and Frank Gore was already off the table. We aren't closer. Much like how I don't want to discuss that thing that she used to do in bed that she swore she only did with me, I don't care if Rice hit 100 yards and catapulted you into first place. Another man has been with your girl/first round pick, essentially watering them down.
Granted, I'm guilty of this as much as the next owner. Many a time have I relayed a tale of fantasy woe or glory on an unwilling ear. Often do I tell of the painful loss when Clinton Portis was held one foot short of a first down, keeping his rushing total at 99 yards. It's my war story. Or that I hit the fantasy felon trifecta this season (drafted K-Rod, Gilbert Arenas and Braylon Edwards in the same calendar year).
But these are stories that only a select few care about, namely the other 11 members of your league. Stories that don't even make their way into your own diary. Why would anyone else want to listen? Fantasy exists for a reason.
I am prepared to live this credo. I am prepared to make my league count for something by keeping a higher standard of league conduct. The secret to Fantasy sports is keeping the fantasy to yourself.
Let's start a revolution. One where our fantasy smack talk and bragging are still rampant, but reserved for only our close group of friends. One where you can offhandedly mention that injury prone Steven Jackson, but not to your wife's book group. Because as another performer whose accomplishments lose value when taken into the real world once said: "Know your role and shut your mouth."
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