For the past eight months, there has been something missing in my life. No, I’m not talking about another bootleg Kim Kardashian video, but something that runs the gamut of every male emotion, from frustration to elation. I’m talking, of course, about fantasy football.
Last year was my first attempt at managing a fantasy team, and I must say it could have gone better. I finished a respectable seventh out of 10 teams. OK, seventh place is about as respectable as Snooki wearing a halter top that’s three sizes too small for her rotund figure to Catholic mass, but still, I didn’t finish last.
This year, things will be different.
The draft went exceptionally well for my fantasy squad. For weeks, I researched all sorts of fantasy football websites for any edge I could gain to make my team superior to anyone else who dared challenge me. Once draft night came around, I was in front of my laptop with a printout of my Excel spreadsheet of who and how I wanted my draft to unfold. I felt like Harvey Levin from TMZ, only instead of mapping out where Jessica Alba was having lunch, I was mapping out where I wanted to draft Ray Rice.
As luck would have it, I was able to nab Rice as my number one pick, and in the first week of NFL action, he did not disappoint. He earned an astounding 31 points for my team. Not only was he my top earner for the week, but he did so by making the Pittsburgh Steelers defense look like a slice of Swiss cheese.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not a Baltimore Ravens fan. In fact, I am not too fond of it at all after it booted my Miami Dolphins out of the playoffs in 2008. But therein lies the beauty of fantasy football. Team loyalty goes out the window when it comes to earning more points than your opponent. Like a Charlie Sheen meltdown, this is all about winning. Not only do I have a Raven on my team, I have two players from the New England Patriots, which, along with most every person reading this, is my most-hated team. Come to think of it, I don’t know any person who is a Patriots fan, unless you’re from Boston, in which case you’re probably not reading this because you’re locked in your mom’s basement, still depressed about the implosion of the Red Sox. But I digress.
The NFL is nearing the midpoint of its season, and as of this writing, my fantasy team has yet to be defeated. Week five was a close call, as I won by the narrowest of margins, but to quote the profound words of the illustrious philosopher Vin Diesel, “It don’t matter if you win by an inch or a mile. Winning’s winning.” And Sir Diesel has yet to steer me wrong (pun intended).
As I look forward to what the rest of the season has to offer, I remain optimistic about my chances of winning my league. I’m still undefeated, and my closest opponent in the standings doesn’t know the difference between Aaron Rodgers and Kenny Rogers. The greatest thing I can hope for, though, is to just have fun, win or lose.
Or maybe see a new Kim Kardashian video.
That would be the greatest fantasy of all.
