Fantasy football rules

To start off, I am watching Game 5 of the ALCS as I write this, so I’ll give you updates along the way in italics.

It is 2-1, Boston leads in the third inning, as I begin. Pedro looks nasty—so far.

So Dargaye and I entered our third day of trade deliberations Sunday, and for the 17th time I make the offer, “Faulk and Horn for Tomlinson and Curry.”

Dargaye looks at me and says, “Are you kidding me?”

For those of you who haven’t figured out what’s going on here, I’m talking about fantasy football. The game is ruining my life, yet I am loving every minute of it. Forget that I have a paper to write or an exam to study for, because what I really need to do is upgrade my team at the running back position. This past Sunday I did not watch the NFL or even NFL Primetime for more than five minutes, yet I know that Derrick Mason didn’t do crap, and my head-to-head matchup is undecided heading into Monday Night Football. By the way, I miss watching football on Sundays as often as I have fun in stat class.

Jeter hits a three-run double, how is he so freakin'’ clutch? How did Pedro let this happen? We should cut that mop off the top of his head.

What is it about compiling players, tracking stats and wheeling-and-dealing that makes this game so appealing to men ages 18-39? It is getting the chance to be a general manager, and a chance to win bragging rights among your friends, which is a reason for a young adult male to do anything. There’s also those guys in the league who are worthless as owners, and are always losing to, and making awful trades with, your other opponents. In my league, that team is appropriately named Dumps Like a Truck.

Ortiz hits yet another monster homer over the tall green wall in left field, and quickly after the Sox tie it at 4-4 on a sac fly. I am a Mets fan, but this is so heartwarming. Did I mention that I hate the Yankees?