Ah, such a scintillating title… unfortunately, I’m not talking about which Olympic athlete I’d rather see slink half-naked out of a pool. No, this is fantasy is far more satisfying.
What illicits all the hallmarks you’ve come to love and expect from any good fantasy… heart-racing, palm-sweating, hair-pulling, and screaming… but is done fully clothed from the comfort of your own home or local bar? Hint: in its advanced form this fantasy involves elaborate props, such as a styrofoam cheese wedge or viking hat worn on your head.
That’s right, I’m talking fantasy football and the 2012 season is here! This is the third year of our all-girl league (don’t misread that as anything other than ruthless… and proud for that matter, my favorite team name in our league: no cup required) and I’m ready to make my move. Year one I finished third place overall, and last year… well, as my girlfriend would say, the whole season was ‘rained out’… i.e. don’t ask.
This time I’m taking my role as coach far more seriously by picking my own players. Sure, I’ll refuse to pick up the Vicks (dog abuser), Roethlisbergers (female abuser), and Bradys (no one loves him more than he does) — and some might call that putting sentiment or politics where they don’t belong — but if I wouldn’t hire them to work in my office I’m not going to put them on my field. Watch me win without them.
So yes, I’ll admit the title of this post is a tad misleading. But who am I kidding? This body is never suiting up and getting out on a football field. The closest I’ll ever get is outfitting Glitter and Gore (an homage to my home town team) to go head-to-virtual-head every Sunday… and sometimes Thursday or Monday. In this case, the fantasy involves beer, fried foods, and luxuriously sedentary competition while the reality just brings bruises and grass-rash. Sign me up for the fantasy.