Guys, I’m going to be honest, I’m way too competitive. Not just in the sense that I want to win Monopoly or a game of volleyball. I’m constantly competing with anyone – even strangers- who have the terrible luck of running into me on a given day. Just going to the grocery store is an array of game playing for me. I make a grocery list that has everything in order of store layout. There is no going back and forth through the produce section just to make it to the milk aisle and notice I forgot the asparagus. When I see others doubling back to pick up something they forgot, I earn a point for efficiency. I play “who will checkout faster” with people in the other lines. If I make it to the Exit while they’re still arguing with the cashier about the validity of their coupon, I win. They don’t even know we’re playing this game. I try to jump off the line when the light turns green before the driver next to me even notices it changed. I am always the last to order at a restaurant because I can’t stand the idea of someone ordering something better than me. I can’t help it. The compulsion to be “winning” follows me everywhere!
Why, then, would anyone ever ask someone so annoyingly absurdly competitive to participate in the ultimate 4 month long competition that is Fantasy Football? Probably because I’m absolutely terrible at the whole gimmick and my equally competitive husband wants to teach me a lesson in humility. Every part of it- from the original draft, to midseason trades, and deciding who to put on the bench- I’m bad at all of it. My resolve to win only continues to grow with each week. My dreams are sorely crushed each week playing in a league with more seasoned players than me. My husband has been playing Fantasy Football since 2001. That’s right, 2001. I’m fairly positive I was picking daisies and learning to braid hair in 2001. No matter, my absolute lack of Fantasy Football skill has not rendered me an easy victim to these old pros and I am committed to fighting the battle to one day be the Ultimate Fantasy Football Champion. Until then, since I can’t win most of these games based on my roster (by the way, where are points for effort and originality in smack talk calculated?) below are some of my favorite lines I use to cope with sporting the big “L” for the majority of the season.
“It’s not FAIR!”
I immediately go straight to 4-year-old tantrums when thing aren’t going my way. It seems like ONLY my players ever get hurt and they ALWAYS get hurt terribly and are out for at least 3 weeks. Or they’re Eddie Lacy and decide to not play for me the 6 weeks I have him on my roster..
“You’re so MEAN!”
How dare you want to win! How dare you laugh at the fact that my wide receivers put up a ridiculous 36 points between them. How dare you actually have the nerve to beat me…again! You’re basically an awful person. Any celebrations of your triumph over me need to be done quietly and not behind my back.
“If you don’t trade me this player, you don’t love me”
Oh, the joys of playing fantasy football with your wife. No one ever said we had to play fair. That’s only been thrown out a few dozen I try to reserve the “you don’t love me” threats for when I’m really in desperate need of a win. It just so happens that I think I’m really in desperate need every week.
“I’m just going to leave my team exactly how it is this week”
After the storm of Monday Night Football is over, we have two whole days off from game play to relax and reflect on the previous week’s matchups. Basically every week at around 11:00PM Monday, I lull myself into thinking “This is just for fun, don’t worry about it. Just leave your team alone this week and let it all play out”. By approximately 11:03PM I’ve caught on to the fact that those calming thoughts are malarkey and am back at it trying to convince someone to trade me Aaron Rodgers. I just want him for TWO weeks. What is the big deal?
“If Dez Bryant could just get hurt, not seriously hurt, just kind of hurt…I’d have a real shot this week”
I almost constantly have thoughts about how much better my odds of winning would be if a Points Horse on my opponent’s team was benched for the week. I seem to make myself feel like less of an awful person by predicating my wish for the player’s bodily harm with “I mean, not broken back hurt, maybe just tennis elbow hurt. You know, so he can’t catch the ball”. If I’m not wishing major, career-ending injuries on someone, I can still go to church on Sunday and look our pastor in the eye.
“If I win the next 6 weeks and every other person loses all their games, I could totally win”
By about mid-season I start getting desperate in my calculations. As my husband so rudely pointed out last season, it’s impossible for EVERYONE to lose the rest of the games…because every matchup has at least one winner. This use of logic really rubbed my ego the wrong way. It’s week 4 and I’m going to need everyone to forfeit the rest of their games so I have a chance at the playoffs. I don’t see what’s so unreasonable about that.
“Obviously, you guys are all working against me”
Nothing else makes sense. I’m not THIS BAD at this. If the 9 of you cut out the top secret trades, strategy meetings, and injuries to my players, I would smoke you!
“I’m just not going to play next season”
Once regular season is over, I have a good month or so to sit back and watch everyone else continue to participate in this club from which I’ve been ejected. The level of FOMO (fear of missing out. It’s a real affliction, you know) is absolutely unbearable. So naturally, I swear off Fantasy Football altogether. That’s right! If I can’t win, I’m done with this sport. I’m taking my smack talk and going somewhere it’s appreciated- the internet.
“Just kidding. I’m back, and here to bring the pain”
Alas, my resolve to go out sporting the big, permanent “L” on my forehead fades as quickly as it came. Next season, Bellie’s Bullies are going down in history as the winningest Fantasy team ever. Just you wait…