By D. Schuchmann
In reaction to Ray Allen’s letter to his younger self about life and basketball, I was inspired to write a letter to my son about...you guessed it, life and fantasy football.
I’m sorry that I failed you. Those may seem like harsh words to hear, but they are far more harsh to admit to. Now let me explain…
Your dad wasborn outside the great city of Chicago, to a humble midwestern family. He was the second of two sons and would only later learn how valuable it was to be in that position. Yes Chicago, the great windy city where the legends of Michael Jordan, Walter Payton and most recently the Cubs, provided the inspiration to thousands of eager adolescents to seek greatness among american sports. Yes Chicago, where your dad might’ve found a way to become Elite.
But it wasn’t to be, instead your grandparents moved to the middle of Iowa, even more midwestern of a place if ever one existed. Now Iowa is not a bad place to live, some call it God’s country. But as far as opportunity, it has little. The road to professional athleticism is much more daunting, and unlikely. Now your dad wasn’t born with two left feet. He was fortunate to be graced with underestimated talent, good speed and agility, and a fierce competitive edge. Jeff, a friend of your dad’s once asked him during a flag football game, “Dave, how do you get so many interceptions?” Your dad simply said, “the ball belongs to me.” See with hard work and that determination your dad was able to become an above average athlete, one of the best in the state of Iowa. This was a good start, but there was one flaw…...his sport happened to be american soccer.
And this is where I failed you, however unlikely it was to become a professional athlete in any of the great american sports, your dad chose to pursue soccer. If you’re not born in South America you might as well spend your life operating a banana stand rather than pursue professional soccer. Because at least then, you might stand a chance to profit from a banana stand.
Since you found this post on a fantasy football archived website of what appears to be a group of flamboyant friends from college, you might be wondering what this story has to do with fantasy football.
Well that is where the story ends. Because of your dad’s failures to fall short of becoming a professional athlete, he and many like him, have turned to playing fantasy football. Yes FANTASY SPORTS. We couldn’t do it for real, so we pretend. It’s a world in which we pretend to be something we are not, to compete against other fantasy owners in a world that takes more than it gives, season after season , just filled with disappointment. Why did your first round draft pick tear his acl? Why did your stud running back tear his acl? Why did you sure thing QB tear his acl? Why did that weird kid draft two kickers? It’s a world where far too many questions go unanswered, leaving you 5-8 and missing the playoffs, again and again and again. You feel as if you can’t be relegated any more than you already have been. Even if the commissioner decides to change the rules which may actually bump you a league up, it doesn’t matter, you didn’t earn it. You can’t look anyone in the eye at the draft that year so you drink enough fireball until you have the ability to look everyone in the eye at the same time. The hope of a winning season fades as fast as you throw up in a hotel bathroom.
This letter may seem sad or depressing, but there is hope. There is hope in the fact that you may learn from my mistakes. That you can devote your time to the research and data that has become exponential. That you can swarm fantasy football leagues of the future and conquer them with vengeance. That you can do what your dad has not. That you can rise in the rankings and solidify your place in delt fantasy football history. That is my prayer.
In other knews I destroyed Tieds this week. Yah fantasy!
2018 Assist Raffle Tracker
T. Shannon - 24
J. Edwards - 1