My lifelong abusive relationship with fantasy football resulted in another black eye this week (not figuratively – Yahoo physically punched me in the eye, causing it to bruise). I’ve played fantasy in some form every year since 9th grade, completely ignorant of my own adage that only two possible outcomes can result from playing fantasy [...]
My lifelong abusive relationship with fantasy football resulted in another black eye this week (not figuratively – Yahoo physically punched me in the eye, causing it to bruise). I’ve played fantasy in some form every year since 9th grade, completely ignorant of my own adage that only two possible outcomes can result from playing fantasy football:
1) You lose, and are pissed.
2) You win, and no one cares.
When you lose — as my team did this week — there’s also an added sense of “this is the biggest waste of time imaginable,” especially when the following scenario happens (this story is subtitled “Why I Am A Waste Of A Human”):
As of Monday night, I was trailing my game by two points going into the Monday Night Football game between Houston and Tennessee, and I still had Houston receiver Andre Johnson yet to play, but my opponent had Matt Schaub, Houston’s quarterback, who’d be throwing the ball to Johnson and essentially canceling out his points.
But, rather than assume I was going to lose, ignore a boring NFL game that had no impact on the standings, and spend my night usefully by reading a book or planting a tree or whatever valuable people who don’t play fantasy football do, I sat on the couch watching the Texans play the Titans and rooted for Andre Johnson to catch a touchdown but for Matt Schaub to also throw two interceptions afterward to drag his points back below Johnson’s. This is not an actual thing anyone does.
Fortunately I was joined on the couch by my roommate, who had absolutely no stake in the game other than needing Tennessee’s Rob Bironas to kick ONE field goal so he could win his fantasy game for the week. So basically, the two of us — a Steeler fan and a Giants fan — watched a regular season Texans/Titans Monday Night game with me shouting at the tv hoping for Matt Schaub interceptions or for the running back to throw a touchdown pass to Andre Johnson (but only Andre Johnson), and my roommate rooting for the Titans until they got to the opposing 30 and then rooting against them.
Could the inventors of Football — John J. Football III and his cohorts — have possibly foreseen something so specifically pathetic ever deriving from their innocent pastime? If so, they were terrible people.
In the end, my roommate won his game, but I lost. Though in a way, are either of us winners?
That would be a “no,” preceded by multiple F-words.
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