I’m going to level with you here. I don’t have a lot of “man-cred.” I mean, I pee standing up, I don’t cry much in public, and I am slightly stronger than most girls I know. But that’s about it. I also teach preschool, bake, and know kind of a lot about musical theater. The only thing that lets me hang around in dude-style conversations is that I like sports. I can speak pretty credibly about basketball (my favorite) as well as baseball and football. When hockey comes up, I deliver my stock: “I don’t follow it, but it gains so much live!” line. College sports conversations I gracefully bow out of with a simple: “There’s just too much to follow, and I don’t know where to start.”
So last year, I let myself get talked into joining a Fantasy Football league with some friends. It didn’t seem like that much of a commitment. One live draft, and then I’d just have to update my roster once a week. Football, guys, only happens once a week! But somehow I managed to go down in flames, finishing dead last in my league and earning the ridicule of my league-mates.
This year, I was surprised and flattered to have been invited back. Probably, though, the other guys were looking forward to collecting my entry fee. I am again near the bottom of the league, and I have committed such offenses as: 1. Not realizing the season had started. and 2. Starting two players with bye weeks at the same time because I slept late and forgot to edit my roster. The other dudes are not pleased.
Somehow I also got roped into a Fantasy Basketball league. This is exponentially more troublesome because I have to update the roster every day. I am three days into the season, and I am losing my mind. The very thought of Fantasy Basketball fills me with anxiety and self-doubt. It is almost as if I were thinking about my career, sex, or fitness. It has gotten to the point where I have been having Fantasy Basketball Fantasies. Here are some…
Deus Ex Machina
One of the players on my fantasy roster gets outfitted with bionic limbs (a la Inspector Gadget) in the middle of the season. Though implausible and probably unethical, the change goes unimpeded by league officials and RoboKobe plays 48 minutes per game (that’s a whole game) and averages 75 points (that’s a lot of points) and 6 enemies terminated (an unprecedented amount) per game. He leads my team (The Fundamentals) to the title.
In this fantasy, I simply fake my own death. I’m thinking something badass like mountain climbing or bear baiting (do people still die from that?). Then, when my roster goes unupdated for weeks at a time, people will pour out a little malt liquor for me and talk about how much potential I had as a fantasy basketball team owner.
The Ball of Flames
This fantasy might weirdly be the most possible. Cleveland Cavaliers fans, still despondent over the loss of Lebron James, actually take over the arena when the Miami Heat come to town and cause a state of total anarchy. It’s like a combination of Misery, Mad Max, and the Pistons-Pacers Brawl all rolled into one. After that, players decide to strike for safer working conditions. Commissioner David Stern decides to take a hard-line stance against the players, and a season-long lockout ensues.
So guys, if you have any way to make any of these things happen, please help me. I am a desperate man. Or at least desperate and most of a man.