There’s at least three things in this life I said I’d never do: anal sex; IV drugs and fantasy football. Well, two out of three ain’t bad. I’m not sure why, but not unlike anal sex and IV drug use, there was some sort of ugly stigma attached to fantasy football.
I love football; NFL football, just as much as the next person. Yet, there was something queer and slightly repugnant about folks who were into this “fantasy football” thing. I’m not sure where this aversion came from.
Perhaps it came solely from the word “fantasy” - which conjured up a strange mixture of images ranging from the gangly, pimple-pocked Dungeons and Dragons players of my youth to their adult counterparts - still gangly, but now acne scarred; working at Enron or Microsoft with no social or sex lives, barring cyber sex in darkened, perverted shadows. I envisioned that, or burned out, frat boys who were too old or fat to play anything but armchair quarterback.
So, needless to say, I was more than a little hesitant when my wife informed me that a group of our friends (all scattered across the U.S. yet connected by the Internet) wanted us to join their fantasy football league.
“Yeah, right,” I thought to myself. “Let’s become even bigger geek-dork-nerds. No way. As an all-pro, semi-practicing journalist I felt I had standards to maintain, and a reputation to uphold.”
Well, as fate would have it, I apparently have the morals, not to mention impulse control issues, of a French Quarter crack whore.
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