Confessions of a Serial Swooper

You see, I’m commissioner of a Fantasy Football league called First n Ten XI. “XI” as in 11 years of the league. And, I’ll bet, based on that fact, most of you reading this now probably think you can presume a few things about me. And eleven years ago, I’ll bet a few of your presumptions may even have been true. But three jobs, two children, four out-of-state moves later and it’s sort of laughable.

As example, you probably thought “I’ll bet she’s a real sports fan or at least really knows her stuff when it comes to football.”

1998 — Living by myself in a Back Bay studio apartment. Knew the Pats by name, number and position. Somewhat knew football overall.

2009 — Living in suburbia with my husband, dog and two spawn. Know the lead content of various jungle gym equipment and every word to the theme song to “Backyardigans”. Somewhat know my beloved Pats (the starters, at least). Can maybe confidently place five QBs with their appropriate team but certainly no more than eight. Puh-thetic.

But, on we play.

We tried a couple times to involve other women. They were terrible. All of them. They were generally annoying chatty “post”-ers who didn’t change out players during “bye” weeks. My feeling was that they sort of gave female sports fans a bad name trying to participate and being so lame. They probably wore pink Red Sox hats, too. So, they were out. Which makes me sound like a really hard core commissioner which is freakin’ ridiculous because I am such a girl as commissioner I don’t know how these guys put up with me sometimes.

While I insist that players pay attention to their teams (I mean, come on), I’m also all about league harmony. No joke. A harmonious fantasy football league? Please, woman. But, it’s true. One of my husband’s friends who played in the league a few years was unceremoniously tossed last year basically for talking back too much. Being too argumentative and mean. Creating discord. Complaining about my oh-so-diplomatic (I ask for votes…really, I do) league settings. If I could have given him a time-out and sent him to his room, I would have done it, I swear. Hell hath no fury like a female commissioner scorned.

The thing about fantasy football though is that there’s really not a whole lot one has to know to be a good team manager and win the whole damn thing. This really annoys my husband who actually does know more than a little about these players so it makes him crazy that someone like me can just get lucky and win a game because I accidentally drafted Steve Smith instead of Stephen Smith (or was it the other way around?). Anyway, things like that.

My team name is the Fat Cats because when I started the league I had a big fat rescue-league cat named Ned. And that’s been my name for 11 years. I highly doubt there are a lot of other commissioners out there naming their team after a tubby kitty.

So, anyway, go Fat Cats.

Go Pats.

Gotta love a little harmless fantasy.