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I love sports.
I fall asleep to Sportscenter.
I wake up to Sportscenter.
I listen to sports talk radio in my car.
I own a “Yankees Suck” T-shirt.
I play intramurals with the fervor and tenacity of every other former high school athlete at this school (not that actual skill is the natural antecedent of raw energy).
And yes, I play fantasy football.
It’s that last fact that pushes me out of the realm of the normal sports fan and into the world of the sports fan uber-geeks.
Weekday trips to the computer cluster turn ten minute intentions into two hour excursions. I scour Web-sites for information on Dante Hall’s health.
I think in terms of probable, questionable and day-to-day. I read injury reports. I check ESPN.com and my football league’s Website no less than 10 times a day.
Sunday morning I’m a mess. I should be sleeping, or at the gym, but I’m at the screen of my computer at 11 a.m. trying to find out how many total yards I can expect from Kevin Faulk.
Sixteen Sunday’s out of the year I’m useless. I need updates. I need stimulants. I need to beat my friends so I can rub it in their face, as if there were real, actual skill involved in “playing” this type of football.
This phenomenon is proof of football’s unofficial status as the true national pastime. The game is TV and radio friendly. It’s played the same time every week for one glorious day. It’s an excuse to gather, to eschew homework, yard work and chores for “guy time.” It’s something to talk about on Monday morning, something to look forward to and something to gamble on.
The advent of fantasy football has only made the game more accessible to the armchair quarterback. The guy with the Bud Light and the bag of chips is cheering for the local stars, but he’s also cheering for guys from his team. Guys who he drafted, guys who he researched and put stock in. Guys he might have bet his daughter’s college fund on.
For 16 weeks, these guys are hooked. And so am I.
Fantasy football may make me dorkier than the kids at the local “graphic novel con,” but it also makes me appreciate the National Football League on a new, more complete level. And besides, my mom still thinks I’m cool.
