So get this: The last time I played Fantasy Football? We didn’t even use computers.
Not because we were trying to be all retro or anything. No. Most of us just didn’t have computers. Or we didn’t have the Internet.
My first pick in the 1992 Fantasy draft was pretty bold. I went with University of Michigan star Desmond Howard. I figured, you know, Howard was a pretty good receiver, right? And he was drafted by the Super Bowl-winning Redskins, led by Mark Rypien, who had completed almost 60 percent of his passes the previous season.
To me? That sounded like a pretty good pick. I was really proud of myself for snatching him up before anyone else.
Chumps.
What I didn’t expect was that a Heisman winner would wind up riding pine the entire season. I also didn’t figure on him getting just 60 yards receiving in 16 games.
So I started out a miserable 0-4, fast becoming a mockery of the league. And usually when I was mocked, there was mention of my #1 pick.
But I showed those guys. I made some smart moves, getting Andre Rison and a good young running back no one had heard of named Ricky Watters. And soon my team had won five straight, and I was like, “EAT IT, SUCKAS!”
Except then the league comish — this guy Jeff — told me I needed to pay my $100 entry fee, which was already ten weeks late. And, well, this was the FIRST recession caused by a Bush president, so times were hard, right? I didn’t have a lot of, whatchumacallit — disposable income. In fact, after getting fired from my shoe store job, I had no income.
So my team was repossessed.
Now whenever I hear someone talk about Fantasy Football, I’m like, “Screw Fantasy Football!” Then I think about that bum Desmond Howard. And then I think about that bum George H.W. Bush. Then I lower my head and cry a little because 17 years later, I’m still f*@ing broke.
