Fantasy Football:

I started watching football about four years ago when I realized it got me free beer and pizza. Brett Favre had just made his treacherous leap from the Packers to the Vikings, and I was about to permanently move from Wisconsin to Minnesota. What fate. In this time, I have learned nothing about football. I know the players that show up on commercials and in celebrity gossip, but the ones that matter? No idea.

The office decides to start a league this year. I think, “Sure. I watch The League. Let’s do it.” I get my email announcement and set up my team: Polly Shore.

Fantasy FootballPauly’s looking sassy, sporting his no care attitude, and I’ve got a team to fill up. The most research I’ve done thus far is read an article on Buzzfeed and start rewatching The League. I think my shit-talking skills will excel. My team is going down in flames.

I tried to participate in a mock draft today. I have no idea who is throwing their hat into these things. Is it the dudes that know how to win? Is it their girlfriends trying to be “one of the guys” for the first time? Is it office brats like me who just want to win and spearhead the shaming?

I don’t know. I only lasted one pick.

Did you know there are a lot of players in the NFL? Did you know the vast majority have not been on commercials or Dancing with the Stars? Faced with this insurmountable list of names, I figure I’ll just pick the ones that have a good ring to them. But there so many of them. And positions. Of course! The positions! It looks like ESPN has my ass covered and caps each position. And then the sweating started. 45 seconds to make a pick. 5th in line. 11 other no names behind a computer screen. What. The fuck. Do. I do.

I draft Drew Brees. He’s a quarterback. Ellen loves him. From what I can gather, he is the patron saint of New Orleans. I recall echoes of “I hate Drew Brees” in my mind, but then I remember that it was Favre that blew the 2010 NFC Championship and shake them. I had Aaron Rogers first, but I took him off because I didn’t want to be that girl. Or that boy. Everyone else has drafted Running Backs. Adrian Petersen went first. I knew that name. I had wanted him. Top of my Player Queue list. Even though the mock drafts don’t matter, Team Rawitz is on my shit list. But it’s okay, I have Drew. And then the draft continues on, everyone drafting Running Backs, so I think maybe I should pick some other players since this draft is looping back to me pretty quick.

I click the RB drop down menu. Scroll up and down a little bit and stop on a whim. Frank Gore. I think I’ve heard that name. Maybe. I’m cool with it. I queued up a kicker and a wide receiver next. I don’t remember who. And then I quit the mock draft. It hadn’t even come back around to me, and I quit. Couldn’t do it. Why? Because in the mix of my name drag and drop, I queued up the kicker for my second pick. A kicker. I don’t know why that’s dumb, but I know it is. I can feel it. And I don’t want anyone else on the internet to know. To be fair, I could have just removed him from the list, but the shame would still be there. I would know what I tried to do.

My draft is tomorrow. I am sick, and I have research to do. If it’s about football, I will read it. And tomorrow, I will dominate*.

*I have taken some Sudafed and am in my happy place.

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