It’s that time of the year again. The days are getting shorter, the weather cooler, and the beer more pumpkin-infused. It can only mean football season is around the corner.
More importantly, it means we’re getting our fantasy football vinegar strokes.
This pastime, of course, is the most rewarding way a person can kill time at work. In fact, if you do anything besides talk smack and refresh the waiver wire while at the office from September-early January, you’re a straight-up chump with unreasonable levels of responsibility on your plate.
Every year, I run a 10-team league that has deep rosters and, considering all of its participants’ economic statuses, a rather hefty buy-in. Don’t get me wrong, it’s among the best parts of being alive. But every fall brings the same nonsense.
Players come and go, but their bullsh*t stays the same. Every league has these derelicts – archetypes that just can’t seem to play the game the way it’s intended.
These are the worst people in your fantasy football league.
The money was supposed to be in by draft day. Then the first week of games. Then the fourth. Then Thanksgiving. Lo and behold, tightwad just can’t seem to send a check or negotiate PayPal – no matter how many reminders you send. To make matters worse, this is usually the person you’re closest with and see on a daily basis. You watch him buy lunch after lunch at the office and hear about his nights out, but there never seems to be any money available to pay for the league.
Because fantasy football doesn’t adhere to karma, this jabronie usually jumps out to first place, only emboldening his not-ponying-up lifestyle. To further crush your soul, this bastard wins the whole thing and claims this justifies the truancy.
Don’t be this guy.
Look, you play to win the game, but this nutcase goes a little too far. Constantly proposing trades, asking a million needless questions, posting excessively on Facebook about his player dropping a sure touchdown pass. Fantasy football is great because we all care deeply about our own teams while not giving a rat’s ass about anyone else’s. This is also the guy who accidentally drafted Rob Gronkowski last year because, in his words, he knew this no-name would obliterate the record books.
You can easily identify him as the jersey-wearing soul sitting alone with his computer at Buffalo Wild Wings for 11 hours each Sunday.
The yin to the previous dude’s yang, the Idiot knows less about football than any man should and lets it spread like a cancer. He’ll trade his best player for someone on injured reserve and then forget to set the lineup while playing a playoff contender down the stretch. Hey, it’s all for fun, they’ll say, as your rage blinds you from watching the Sunday night game.
This aspiring New York Post headline-writer insists on altering their team name each and every week. It’s confusing, unnecessary, and appreciated by a total of one person in the league. You get one goddamn name. Make it count.
Not every girl, mind you. A few years ago, I realize that, by getting my girlfriend to play and participate, it gave me a free pass to watch each and every game. I thought this was the greatest idea in the world. Then she beat me – with a team featuring two inactive players and a defense with a bye week. I’ll never hear the end of that one.
The Unhappy Customer
The league settings were posted three weeks before the draft, but this player couldn’t find time to review them. They bitch about PPR and bonus incentives for the rest of the year, playing the “what could have been” game.
I’ve actually had a guy demand a refund because he wasn’t happy it was a two-quarterback system. Apparently that was a more reasonable option than adding one of the half-dozen starters available each week. Suffice to say, he wasn’t invited back.
While all of these people present problems, they just come with the territory. Don’t let them drag you down, league commissioners. Someone’s got to do the Lord’s work.