Its Fantasy Time

Fantasy Football, in my opinion, is a sports fan escape from the real wold. To many, it is the most wonderful time of the year, while I use it to crush my significant others family without having to do any physical effort. Because we are scattered throughout the midwest, it’s hard to find time to spend with the whole family, so we traded out holiday dinners for fantasy football and shit talking. That being said, there are numerous reasons to justify thousands of people getting hot and bothered over a made up all-star team that determines one’s social standing at work…because it really does.

The average breakdown of fantasy followers is this:

1. Meat Heads: The group of gentlemen from work that request off every Sunday (because football season is equivalent to a national holiday), don’t acknowledge female life for the next six-months and above all else make fools of themselves in public as they act out last nights buzzer beating catch…with sound effects. This group of fantasy users drink excessive amounts of Coors, Miller Lite and PBR while rubbing their hot wing fingers on the couch cushions.

2. Diehards: The best of the best. Fans who have been playing fantasy since they could remember, old school style with a pen and paper. Not much to say about them, diehards tend to keep to themselves, only voicing their opinion when a rookie made a stupid trade or to tell a story of back in the day…

3. Female Wannabes: While I am the first person to promote the females voice in fantasy football and all of sports for that matter, its hard to stand by when my own sister names her team Cleats and Cleavage. Its catchy, I will give her that, but she doesn’t know the first thing about fantasy football. Yes she is a diehard Bears fans and knows the ups and down of the team, the process of drafting, trades and scoring doesn’t strike me as a passion of her’s, but a desire to spend more time with her hubby. Gotta start somewhere I guess, just may be change your team name to something a little less… revealing.

At this point in time with social media, dozens of commercials with Payton Manning and advertisements for Red Zone, its hard to ignore the fact that Fantasy Football is upon us. Normally I could anticipate the start of Fantasy Football; Bears shirts start to fill the shelves at the local Wall-Mart, my dad starts drinking a little bit more with every passing day along with an almost guarantee that the Cubs would be 15-games back come Sept. 1. Not the case this year. I now live in Colorado where Broncos gear is never not on a shelf, my dad has accepted his old age and passes out after one beer and the most surprising fact that the Cubs are 15.5 games ahead.So, when emails started flowing in for the 2016 Draft, I was taken by surprise that this football season was upon us.

I’ll admit it, Fantasy Football is as new to me as my current relationship. I’ve always known how the system works because I’ve followed the draft each spring while picking up a couple trips and tricks from years of meat head ease-dropping. However, I could never say I had my own team. My family never created a team and those around my never wanted to have a ‘girl’ on their team. Needless to say, I still have not been asked to have my own team after years of sports coverage, but I’m not bitter.

I have joined my boyfriends team with his family, slowly molding the team to be my own. I would like to say I have done a good job in terms of sifting through trash players in starting position, several players weighing down the bench with season ending injuries and most importantly keeping Roethlisburger as a starting QB.

Not that I judged him and the potential of our relationship based on his roster, but I totally did. After 2-years of fantasy together and the third just around the corner, being on team Jeff/Haleigh has been a valued tradition in our relationship. Heck, I even convinced him to draft a Bear this season. If that doesn’t say love, I am not sure what does.

So here is to the consumption of Old-Style Lite, DiGiorno Pizza and 7-Eleven cheesy taquitos. Let the games begin.

 

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