| September 08, 2008 Please Don't Ruin My Fantasy |
I'VE GOT this one friend who's impossible to get ahold of. Unless, that is, I send him a fantasy trade proposal, in which case he responds pretty much instantaneously. Sometimes I go so far as to embed personal messages. Tom Brady for Steven Jackson ... When's your wife due? Last week was different, though. Last week I heard from him nine times. Naturally, our league drafted on Monday.
Yes, fantasy football season is back, that time of year when rational men act in irrational ways. According to a doctor friend, during the night shift at a Bay Area hospital last weekend, both on-duty ER docs were huddled around a computer, poring over draft rankings for an hour. Appendicitis? Surely it can wait until the fourth round. Then there's my neighbor, who has two kids and works at a high school. He prepared for his first day of work by—what else?—flying to Vegas for a weekendlong draft. He returned on Sunday night, exhausted but rapturous. Eyes bleary, voice like charcoal, he uttered two triumphant words: Adrian Peterson.
Once, we might have explained away such behavior as that of the fringe obsessive. Now, I'm not so sure. I'm starting to think it's more socially acceptable to play fantasy sports than not to. Nearly 20 million Americans do it; even real athletes play. When I spoke with Rockies outfielder Matt Holliday last week, he was far more interested in discussing his fantasy team than the NL West race (and considering the NL West this year, I don't blame him). As it turns out, Matt and I made the same first-round pick this season, so allow me to speak for both of us when I say, Marion Barber, we're counting on you, buddy!
This addiction does not pay for itself. According to an August report from a Chicago research group, fantasy football will cost U.S. employers an estimated $9.2 billion in lost work time this season. That's more than the city budget of San Francisco, more than the GNP of Jamaica. Hell, you could buy nine NFL franchises for that money. And that's not even factoring in other fantasy sports or the amount of leisure time consumed by draft recon and tense score monitoring. How tense? A University of Mississippi study found that nearly half of fantasy players rarely or never drink while watching games because they take a "more business-like approach." Thanks, Bill, but no tall boys for me today. Can't you see I'm working here?
Who will stop the fantasy madness, you ask? The WAFS, that's who. No, not the Wisconsin Alliance for Fire Safety, though I hear it does fine work, but rather Women Against Fantasy Sports, a group started by Allison Lodish, a 35-year-old self-proclaimed fantasy widow whose husband recently joined his 10th fantasy football league. The WAFS website features a message board for members to post horror stories, like the tale of the newlywed whose betrothed spent the inaugural evening of their honeymoon managing his squad. The site also sells apparel with up-the-revolution mottoes such as CLOSED FOR THE FANTASY SEASON (on, uh, panties) and I THOUGHT I WAS YOUR FANTASY. Ouch. How are we men supposed to respond? By starting DORKs (Dudes Obsessed with Ranking Kickers)?
Perhaps the two sides just need to talk it out. So I called Lodish and arranged to meet at a coffee shop near her home in Kentfield, Calif. At first glance she looked friendly—curly blonde hair, big smile—but then so do black bears before they tear your scalp off. She explained the site's origin, saying, "Nobody's ever really come out publicly and said, You guys are a bunch of lame-asses for getting emotionally involved in this stuff." I countered that just last week a stay-at-home dad won $1 million in a fantasy fishing contest (33-year-old Michael Thompson, livin' the dream!). In return, she offered some advice, "Chris, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem." She said something else too, but I didn't catch it, because I was too busy checking the Red Sox--Yankees box score on my cellphone. After all, there are only three weeks left in the fantasy baseball season.
When I got home, my wife wanted to know if I had "learned" anything. I thought for a second. Sure, Lodish had a decent argument. And, true, even a pro jock—Giants outfielder Randy Winn, who plays in four fantasy football leagues—said, when I told him about WAFS, "They do have a point." And, yeah, I probably could be more productive with my time.
So I turned to my wife, figuring I should be honest, and singled out the most important thing I'd learned during the talk with Lodish.
"Well," I said, "Jason Giambi was 2 for 2 with a homer...."
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