I’m old school. Sometimes I long for the things of yesteryear: no-speed bikes, Davey and Goliath, Bit-O-Honey, and the Los Angeles Rams featuring Deacon Jones, Merlin Olsen, and Roman Gabriel. I grew up without: Segways, the Kardashians, Mike and Ike, and NFL Fantasy Football.
These days, the NFL Fantasy Football leagues are extremely popular and competitive. Money can be made, and fun can be had, if the participant happens to know who is the top slot receiver in the league and which running back will guarantee the fantasy owner the best return on her or his investment.
I am a veteran in this fantasy football league extravaganza. Yes, sir. Last year was my first season to participate. I joined my son’s league, 12 Angry Men, and needed a catchy gridiron name for my NFL roster. I chose Pull My Finger because I am old school. Nothing screams old school quite like the yank of an index finger immediately followed by a horn toot and the sweet smell of sulfur. I was excited the night of last year’s Draft. Web sites offering player rankings were at my beck and click. I knew which players I wanted on PMF and was bound and determined to get them. Except there was a slight problem, a problem I never experienced while growing up in the 60s and 70s. Internet connection. I couldn’t connect at the house. My son, the commissioner for 12 Angry Men, was across from me on the living room couch, gleefully selecting this guy and that defense. Me? I was relegated to auto-pick.
“Hey, you got a good quarterback,” said Da Commissar.
“Nice,” replied the wearer of tube socks. “Who’d I get?”
“Andrew Luck,” came back the answer from across the living room.
The two-hour draft, aided by inadequate technology, elicited memories of watching television with foil on the rabbit ears, the picture still being fuzzy, and someone trying to describe the action to others sitting nearby taking in the latest in technology. Old school.
I shouldn’t complain about having to sit in a chair, sipping coffee, while a computer selected my players. I finished second in the league. Pull my finger, indeed.
But this year would be different, by cracky. For one thing, the league was now 10 Angry Men, so I guess somewhere in the off-season, a couple of perturbed pigskin prognosticators up and left the huddle.
I was not interested in having a repeat of internet futility on Draft Day, so I did what every other self-respecting, NFL Fantasy owner would do—I grabbed my laptop, jumped into the Escape, and drove six miles to McDonald’s. When I exited the vehicle, I noticed the league commissioner had come along for the coffee and free Wi-Fi, too.
The league I’m in is a collection of a couple of 50-somethings, 30-somethings, and then a bunch of snot-gobbers who are younger than some t-shirts I own. Team names? Kyle’s Swag Team, Give Me The Trophy, Hugitoutscotmitchell, Dwight, Jordan’s Team, Green & Gold, pj’s Genius Team, JaMarcus Russell, Patty Mo Snow, and then my choice. Being old school, I originally had The Fighting Hemorrhoids, but decided that in today’s vernacular, the team name would be considered TMI. So I went with ACS Lions, my high school in Anchorage, Alaska, where I was once a record-breaking football player. Hollah!
I ordered a couple of large coffees, wiped off the table, fired up the laptop, and then proceeded to engage in a debate. With myself.
“What would you think about relying on auto-pick again this time?” asked the owner formally known as Pull.
“Wow, I know you finished in second last year, but you had quite a bit of Luck,” answered ACS Lions.
“You’re not auto-picking,” sternly stated the Commissar. Oops. I guess the debate was louder than I thought.
I glanced at the laptop screen. “15 minutes until the draft room opens.”
My son, proud owner of “Give Me The Trophy,” was typing furiously on his keyboard and writing down information on the top players. Me? I was sipping coffee and debating whether to order something off the dollar menu. Old school.
“5 minutes to Draft.”
A sinking feeling entered my cerebrum and expanded: if I don’t auto-pick, who in the world am I going to select? I immediately opened up multiple browser windows, typed, “I need help drafting NFL Fantasy”, and clicked. Approximately 2,450 web sites were at my disposal.
“2 minutes to Draft.”
Across the McTable, filled pages turned rapidly. Ink was on line after line after line. I looked down at my cheat sheet. Blank.
“Hey, Ryan. What position would you draft first?” asked the old fart sporting sweat beads on his forehead.
“Running back or a top receiver,” answered my offspring.
The draft order had been pre-determined by Yahoo. Just like Gayle Sayers, I am third. There would be a minute and a half between selections. Plenty of time for the sweat beads to slowly make their way under my arms.
“The Draft has begun.”
I put on my old-school game face.
The first two picks were selected by a couple of future losers, and then I was on the clock.
ACS Lions pick Lacey
“With the first pick in the 2015 NFL Fantasy Draft, the ACS Lions select Eddie Lacey of the Green Bay Packers.”
There, that wasn’t so bad.
Even though the league only contained ten teams, there was a considerable amount of down time between my picks. So I did what any other self-respecting, old school, Fantasy football owner would do: I went on Facebook and posted, “Is it wrong to request prayer for NFL Fantasy Draft? Asking for a friend.”
My next picks consisted of:
Russell Wilson QB
Julio Jones WR
Ameer Abdullah RB
Golden Tate WR
Buffalo Defense
I was doing my best to keep up with the young whippersnappers. I’m old school. Where are Deacon Jones, Merlin Olsen, and Roman Gabriel when you need them?
Jason Written TE
Jarvis Landry WR
There was a lull in the draft. It would be quite a while before I would step up to the podium and make another selection. So I did what any other, self-respecting, old school, Fantasy football owner would do: I went on Twitter and typed, “In NFL Fantasy Football League with @coachehm. I’m old school—where is @RomanGabriel3rd? I need another QB.” Roman Gabriel 3rd is the son of Roman Gabriel, the former signal caller for the Rams. Later on that night, Roman Gabriel 3rd favorited my tweet. Awesome.
Dan Carpenter K
Kyle Rudolph TE
Another lull meant an excellent McOpportunity to visit the McPotty.
Baltimore Defense
Matt Bryant K
“Hey, are you thirsty?” asked the Commissioner.
“Yea, I’m out of coffee. I’ll buy us a pop,” replied Pop.
Pick after pick, round after round, the night flew by. Well, not exactly. Our league had twenty draft rounds.
Courtesy: chuckography.blogspot.com
To be honest, I loved taking part in the NFL Fantasy Draft, but I believe I loved growing up when I did even better. I would never trade the experience of rabbit ears on an old television set for the internet or NFL Fantasy Football. There is something to be said for living in an era when information was not instantaneously bombarding the sporting senses. And that is called: Old School.
