I suppose when a recent high school grad like myself informs his parents he will be going out on a beautiful summer night, they usually expect something very exciting: graduation party, seafood date, meth lab, etc. However, the last thing my father (a comedian) and mother (HGTV enthusiast) were expecting was “Mom, Dad…I’m going to a Fantasy Football Draft.” What was even more unexpected was when my Dad’s response was “What’s a Fantasy Football?”
Now, obviously most men know what that term indicates, but I don’t hold it against him. If I were being slapped in the face with two college tuitions and a Rogaine bill, I wouldn’t be paying attention to over-paid athletes either. That being said, I’m content living the Fantasy life! I proudly join the rest of bored Americans by partaking in Fantasy Football: The art of pretending you matter.
My goal here is to explain the concepts and perks of this pastime to people who do not understand its merit; mainly mothers, wives, and Priests who are missing half their congregation on Sundays. I’ll start with the history. In 264 B.C. (Before Calvin), the Romans got together secretly to converse about new betting strategies for the upcoming Gladiator Royale…
That was a joke; I know nothing about its history, nor do I care. It probably sprouted from a Fantasy Baseball player who realized that he couldn’t commit to checking his team everyday. Or, you know, because he didn’t care about baseball. Both are highly likely, especially if he was a Mets fan (I am a die hard Mets fan, so I can make this joke since they are going to win the World Series next year – you heard it here first).
But to put it into simple terms: Fantasy Football is basically participating in one glamorous game of “make-believe.” And for any wives out there who have to deal with fifty-year-old husbands still wearing football jerseys…this shouldn’t be a shocker! Here’s how it all goes down: A group of usually ten males gather in a secret underground layer (“Man Cave” by night…”Yoga Room” by day) and select football players to fill out a “roster” of athletes from the NFL (National Football League). Each week, when these players compete in the real world, their production on the field contributes a certain amount of points to a weekly total for a person’s team. Each week, a person’s roster goes up against another bored American’s roster. Eventually, through a rigorous season and playoff tournament, a champion emerges. And best of all, this winner usually gets multiple prizes: Money, bragging rights, and a phone call from children still waiting to be picked up from Sunday school.
However, the big question is: Why is this considered fun? Not to sound sexist, but it is scientific fact that most women think Fantasy Football is a waste of time. Actually, if anything prevents husbands/sons from taking the garbage out, it is a waste of time. But in all seriousness, what is it about pretending to own conceded, selfish athletes that attracts millions of nerdy, work-neglecting men who are still grieving about picking Georgetown in their March Madness brackets (like I always say, when in doubt, pick Florida Gulf Coast University)? It’s actually a pretty simple explanation. One word: Plastics. Nope, that’s not it…found it! One word: Overcompensation.
Any male who partakes in Fantasy is secretly yearning to be a sports star. And who can blame them? Who doesn’t want to be retired at the age of 35 without a college degree or general knowledge of the English language? I wish I could be paid 50 million dollars and still get away with pronouncing the word “know” like the first name of the Yankees’ second baseman. Point being, Fantasy Football is man’s last chance to be a part of the little dream that couldn’t. One final opportunity to be connected to the luxurious world of convertibles, underwear models, and that other thing…sports.
So hey, give us our moment! Let us men have our Sundays (and Mondays and Thursdays and Occasionally Saturdays). We need some time to revisit our dreams. I mean, isn’t that why women watch bad romantic comedies? Because they all desperately want to be married to Ryan Gosling? I know I do. So next time your man is neglecting you and your family to watch the game – just remember – he’s only doing it because he loves you; and because he wants you to be a part of his dream…by being as far away as possible. And you know, if you want to get back at him…there’s always Lingerie Fantasy Football!
Note: There is actually a Lingerie Football League, but please don’t join it.
Note #2: I know that some women actually do play Fantasy Football, and I think that is a momentous move in the right direction for the pastime.
Fantasy Tip #1: Don’t draft Adrian Peterson. Too easy.
My Fantasy Sleeper: Adrian Peterson.
Fantasy Tip #2: Adrian Peterson
Solid Late-Round Pick-up: A kicker
Fantasy Tip #3: No Jets