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Home > What's New > Fantasy Football Fervor
Fantasy Football Fervor
Posted: Friday, September 22, 2006
By David Savona
Monday night, about 8:45 p.m. My little boy is finally asleep and my wife is enjoying a quiet moment with the newspaper. Everyone in the house is tranquil…except for me. It's football season, and I'm working, watching a televised battle on the gridiron. As a man wearing white, yellow and black streaks for glory, I scream out.
"Catch it! Catch it!"
It's Hines Ward, a wide receiver for the world-champion Pittsburgh Steelers, and he's moving downfield in a blur. Over his head, a leather ball sails on an arc, the end of a 50-yard pass thrown by Ben "I don't sweat appendectomies" Roethlisberger. But it was too far, just out of the reach of Ward's reaction.
I screamed again, nearly waking the house. Sorry, honey.
Am I a Steelers fan? Nope. I root for the Giants. But Ward plays on one of my fantasy football league rosters. That pass would have helped. That night, Ward was one of three players I had in fantasy leagues who were in action, so during each play I tried my best to mentally will the ball into their hands.
When Pittsburgh ran, I fumed. Throw the damn thing to Ward already! When Jacksonville was in control, I was in favor of a more balanced attack, as I have both running back Fred Taylor and wide receiver Matt Jones. So long as those two were involved, I was happy.
My deepest fear? A runback by the special teams, which would give me no credit. I actually cheered with joy when a play not involving my guys was broken up at the one-yard line, giving me hopes of a Taylor punch-in. Didn't happen.
For those of you who don't play fantasy football, don't think that I'm some sheltered maniac. About 12 million to 15 million people in America take part in the hobby, which involves fielding a team of players from around the National Football League. Typically, you hold a draft, so only one team has LaDainian Tomlinson, only one team has Peyton Manning, and each "coach" sends out a squad of players each week: one quarterback, a couple of running backs and wide receivers, maybe a tight end, and usually a kicker and a team defense. Points are awarded for yards gained and touchdowns scored, while interceptions and fumbles are often penalized.
The hobby can turn a casual NFL fan into a football-loving maniac. I love pro football, but a few years ago the only team I really cared about was the New York Giants. (And hey, how about that game last Sunday? Sorry, Eagles fans. I really feel bad for you. Seriously. Really.) But with fantasy football, I've taken my love for the NFL to a new level. In the old days, I probably wouldn't have known a thing about Jones from Jacksonville. He's a former basketball player who stands 6-6 and hauls in passes like a superstar, and with Jimmy Smith retired, Jones is off to a solid start. I'd probably be unaware that Michael Turner is Tomlinson's backup in San Diego and ready to break out. I certainly wouldn't be pulling out my hair because T. J. Houshmandzadeh (you try typing that) has yet to play this year due to injury. I have him on two squads. I hope he's a fast healer.
Recently, I gathered with 11 friends from my town for one of my favorite nights of the year: the fantasy football draft. A dozen guys set up around a few tables and a huge board, crack open the beers, light up enough cigars to make a torcedor proud and draft a squad of football greats. We play for a few bucks, trophies and pride. And for food: the six teams with the fewest points at year-end have to treat the upper echelon to a dinner at a local restaurant. (I don't want to talk about the year I was one of the buyers.)
Yeah, color me addicted, but at least I've turned it into work -- the current issue of Cigar Aficionado has my feature story on fantasy football and why it's become such an institution. (Proof that this is a big thing: Bud Light recently added "Mr. Fantasy Football Manager" to its list of Real Men of Genius ads. A quip: "You were born with the one skill every manager needs to play fantasy football: absolutely no skill playing real football. Imaginary catches, imaginary touchdowns: next up, an imaginary score, with an imaginary woman.")
Savona with a trophy he commissioned for himself in 2004.
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I'm playing in three leagues this year. (I retired from the one I won in 2004.) The one in my town is called The Barbarians of the Gridiron, and I'm the league commissioner. Not that I've ever won the damn thing. Despite my supplying the entire league with puros, my "pals" have dealt out the lumps each year, keeping me from the throne. I finished in second place in points in the inaugural year, and last year I took third. Those results didn't mean any coin in my pocket, but they did get me a free dinner.
I'm off to a good start in the Barbarians league this year: after two weeks, I'm undefeated in head-to-head play, and I'm doing OK in points. I am a bit concerned that my nemesis, Russ Stidolph (a.k.a., The Smoking Pork Butts), is also undefeated and has a small lead in points. He won the damn thing last year, thanks to gobbling up players off the waiver wire like a grizzly standing knee-deep in a river of salmon. Gotta watch that guy. He still harbors a grudge because I have Tomlinson, who played on his roster for the past two years. Not that I'm trying to egg him on or anything. ("Hey Stidolph," I wrote on the league Web site recently. "I really dig your locker.") This week, I play against one of my neighbors, Dave Hoffman. I'm seriously considering cutting his cable line to keep him from changing his lineup prior to game time. Hey, there's no shame when you're at war.
I also started out in first place in my company league, but I lost last week when my opponent scored 35 points from the Baltimore defense. (Ouch.) I'm now in fourth place. This week, I face another nemesis: James Molesworth from the Wine Spectator. Bad enough the guy beats me at golf -- I can't lose to him on the (fake) football field.
And in the third league, I'm in the middle of the pack. This is a tough one. Most of the guys in this league have either played or coached pro baseball, which means they sit around all day watching ESPN and somehow call it work. I'm jealous -- and that comes from a guy who smokes cigars all day and calls it work. Anyway, I think half these guys have sources on the sidelines because they can pinpoint the studs and duds for the week about three days before I do. I'm in seventh place, out of 12 teams.
For those of you who follow this great hobby, read my article in the current Cigar Aficionado. And if you want to see how I do this season, I'm going to start a fantasy football thread in our forums. I'll update it each week…maybe a little earlier on the good weeks and a bit later on the bad ones, but I promise to fess up.
Now please, someone pass me the buffalo wings, a beer and a cigar. It's football season!
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