I’m going to post all my sports columns to get more content on here and because I feel I do some of my best writing in this context.
Here I sit at the Daily Grind. It’s 2:15 on Sunday, and I’m sweating buckets. But it’s not because it’s 88 degrees outside.
You see the reason I’m sweating through my shirt like “Fat” Albert Haynesworth in two-a-days is because my fantasy football draft starts in fifteen minutes.
It’s supposed to be fun, but trying to draft a running back this season is like trying to buy a Christmas present for your second cousin.
I know this fantasy football stuff is just that, fantasy. I can still hear my sister-in-law telling my brother, “Honey! It’s not even real!” I think that is the official party line for how most woman feel about this ridiculously popular hobby of men.
Ladies, let me try and explain this obsession of behalf of my gender— if my best friend and I were stranded on an island together we’d never run out of things to talk about if we were still in a fantasy football league. It’s one of life’s great escapes for us human beings without ovaries.
So whether I liked it or not the draft started. And who has the first overall pick?
Me, of course.
I’ve been thinking about this decision since the last second ticked away in the Super Bowl and I still am not sure whom to pick. I end up going with Jamaal Charles, even though I probably should take Adrian Petersen, but I just pictured myself watching him play my beloved Packers twice a year and I couldn’t do it.
Are you starting to see what I mean ladies? Fantasy football is harder to figure out than Chinese algebra… but obviously it’s way more fun than Chinese algebra.
After waiting for what felt like hours I have back-to-back picks. I go Peyton Hillis and LeGarrette Blount. Then I tell the guys in the chat room that LeGarrette is going to punch all of their teams in the face (like he did to that Boise State player when he was at Oregon).
So far all three of my picks are running backs, because even though I want to pick Aaron Rodgers, you have 2-3 running backs starting every week and only one quarterback, and running backs are so inconsistent you have to scoop the best ones up ASAP.
The rest of my draft went like this—Tony Romo. I think he’s going to bounce back from last years injury, and he’s got a lot of weapons to throw to. Then Jermichael Finley. He was one of the many injured Packers last year and I really think he’s going to be in the conversation with Antonio Gates by the end of the season, I probably picked him to soon, but I’m obsessed with his big freaky athleticism. He’s what my brothers and I call a “sexy” football player.
Picks six and seven I go Wes Welker and Chad Ochocinco. I can’t help myself. It’s too funny to have Tom Brady’s one and two guys. Everyone got scared of Welker because of his neck injury, but sometimes if you take a gamble it can pay off big time.
Then I went with Danny Woodhead (cq), because he’s 5-foot-8, white, and awesome. Followed by Steve Smith (Panthers) because I’ve always loved him and think maybe Cam Newton can get the ball to him.
The rest of the draft the computer did auto-picks because I kept getting distracted writing a column about the very draft I was missing.