Fantasy Island, by Mick Shaffer

Confession: I am late with this column because I’ve been participating in too many fantasy football drafts.

Another confession: I love baths.

Hell, I waste a lot of time doing things that shouldn’t take up so much of my time.  I could’ve learned to play piano in the time I spent on Twitter the past few months.  Also, I have made $73 in my online poker account in 2010.  That’s 30 cents per day, people.

And … I’ve spent about a fortnight writing for FlipCollective. (Rim-shot!)

If my life was graphed into a pie chart it would be quite alarming.  I would graph a pie chart for you – if, in fact, pie charts are supposed to be “graphed” – but I don’t know how to insert such a thing into a document.  I’m sure there’s a way, but that would once again be me wasting my time doing something that shouldn’t take up so much of it.

Just know that my pie chart would look something like this:

Playing on Computer 21%
Watching Bad Television 20%
Making Bad Television 20%
Drinking 16%
Sleeping 10%
Playing Golf 8%
Eating 5%
Pooping 5%
Driving 4%
Family Time 1%

Those numbers add up to 110%.  I like to think that’s the kind of effort I assign to those tasks.

But come every August, my wasted time is weighted much more heavily to one lone cause: Fantasy Football.  In fact, if you were to break down my Playing on Computer time, you would see that I am starving my poker habit, missing FlipCollective deadlines, and mixing up “your” and “you’re” on Twitter.  You would also see that I’m taking a slice from that original pie chart and turning it into its own pie chart.  And now my brain is eating itself.

Basically, I ignore all other stupid shit in life and focus on the fantasy.

Confession: They’re not even cool fantasies like porn.  They’re fantasies like, “When should I pick a tight end?”  OK, that sounds kind of erotic, I guess.

Another confession: I can’t think of a single Pink song I haven’t liked.

And you can’t just play fantasy football.  You must fully prepare for fantasy football.  For instance, I conduct hundreds of fantasy football mock drafts.  Hundreds.  That’s right, I take part in pretend football player drafts to practice for pretend football player drafts.  It’s like making a pie chart inside of a pie chart.

Inside these mock drafts is a wonderful world of human beings named Crunchbacker and Favre Sucks and Your Mom, who relay inspiring instant messages like, “Ryan Grant in the first round?  Ur a douche!”

It only takes me, oh, about 45 minutes to complete each mock draft.  I’ve missed six meals and have been late for five family movie nights this month because of my mock drafting habit.  I’m glad none of my kids are learning to walk, because that would be a real push-pull.

Confession: If you do take Ryan Grant in the first round, you are, in fact, a douche.

Another confession: I somewhat enjoyed The Bounty Hunter on family movie night, even though Gerard Butler trying to pull off an American accent is like someone talking with gauze pads in his mouth.

Once I’ve got about a month’s worth of make-believe drafting under my belt, I feel I’m ready for the real thing: make-believe drafting.  This may seem like overkill, but I’ve got to be prepared for these drafts … some of which involve my sister-in-law and my wife, who both employ the strategy of selecting hot quarterbacks.  And, as we all know, hot quarterbacks tend to be really good. (See Brady, Tom)

Of course, I’m not just in one fantasy football league.  That would be a waste of time.  No, I am in multiple fantasy football leagues.  I prefer to spread my talents over many a fantasy football draft.  I’m a team owner at all levels.  For instance:

Lawrence Taylor U16s is drafting seventh in my work league.

Grilled Cheese Is Hot! is drafting second in my family league.

Hungry Bitches Dinner is drafting 10^th in my online league.

Confession: I stole Hungry Bitches Dinner from a co-worker.  But he stole it from a rap song.

Another confession: As it pertains to automobiles, I cannot explain to you what a transmission is.

Some of my leagues have already drafted for this season.  Without revealing too much, I can tell you some of the players I’ll be cheering for in 2010:

Andre Johnson
Peyton Manning
LeSean McCoy
Dallas Clark
Felix Jones
Hines Ward

Of course, it can sometimes be a burden to be athletic enough to participate in so many leagues.  There will inevitably be some overlap.  So, now some of the players I’ll be cheering against in 2010:

Hines Ward
Felix Jones
Dallas Clark
LeSean McCoy
Peyton Manning
Andre Johnson

Most Sundays I’ll have reason to be happy and reason to be sad.  It’s a lot like life, this fantasy football thing.  Maybe it should be called real football.  Hmm.

Confession: This is the first time in five years I haven’t been stuck with Steven Jackson, the consistently mediocre running back for the St. Louis Rams.

Another confession: I’d spell Steven with a “ph.”

Of course, I’m there for the players themselves.  Guys like Minnesota running back Adrian Peterson or New Orleans quarterback Drew Brees or Green Bay kicker Mason Crosby.  Just kidding.  Kickers suck.  Don’t ever draft a kicker before the last round.

I like to think that aside from their teammates, their families, their personal pride, and their multi-million dollar, non-guaranteed contracts, they’re playing for their fantasy owners the most.

I like to think that the opposite exists – that each year, a week or two before the season starts, the New York Giants secretly get together and host some sort of underground draft of regular dudes.

Eli Manning: “I’ll take Johnny the sheetrock taper from the Bronx.”

Brandon Jacobs: “You’ve got to be more specific than that. Give me The Situation from Jersey, er, Miami.  Wherever.”

Eli: “The Situation in the first round?  Ur a douche!”

Steve Smith: “I’ll take Plaxico Burress.”

Eli: “Wow, that’s cold, dude.”

I put myself in their shoes.  What if there was a fantasy DILF draft in my neighborhood?  (Opposite of MILF)  What if I didn’t go in the first round?  What if I got drafted when kickers get drafted?  No matter where I landed there would be expectation or disappointment.  And even though it would be a fantasy DILF league full of fantasy DILF thoughts, none of which pertained to real world situations (not the one from Jersey), that would be way too much pressure for me.

Confession: I would put myself as a back-up defense in the DILF league.

Another confession: I think Chinese water torture is a bullshit myth and I’d be willing to test that theory out.

So, I can only conclude that fantasy football is a huge weight on these real football players’ massive, chiseled, muscular shoulders.  Jesus, I sound like I should be drafting in the DILF league.

And that is why I put so much time into it.  I mean, I’m going to be lumping unreal expectations upon these poor, professional athletes.  I better do my homework.  We saw what fantasy football drafts did to Vince Young.

Sleeping time and family time just might be casualties of war in this whole deal.  Yeah, I’m giving up some stuff.  I haven’t devoted a full afternoon to Minesweeper since training camp started.

In return, I’m expecting some sacrifices from my players.  I need their pie charts to be about 2 percent pooping, 8 percent football, and 90 percent fantasy football.

Hungry Bitches Dinner ain’t messing around.

Confession: Hungry Bitches Dinner is totally messing around.

Another confession: I really don’t see what’s so cool about the iPad.

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Past work on FlipCollective.com.
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