I’m so excited! Fantasy Baseball starts this week. My draft is scheduled for Wednesday afternoon. Barring a hurricane, major snow storm, loss of limbs, fire or worse, I’ll be in front of my computer waiting for my turn to draft my team.
Last year I played a lame version of Fantasy Baseball. I never even made the
playoffs. That was cool, no problem. But, that just isn’t happening this year. I’m
really not too competitive by nature. I’m not one of those that need to come out first every time. I’m a third child. You know, the complacent one. Plus, after all, I’m a Red Sox fan from way back. Yes, I know there is a different breed of RS
fans walking around now-a-days, but I’m one of those from the old school; you know, one that has had years of practice with disappointment. (Remember our 86 year drought?)
I’m in this year’s Fantasy league not with a goal on the physical competitive
edge (grunt, grunt) but with much more education; I’m going to play smart
baseball. I look at players like Jason Varitek and Curt Schilling and, in addition to their playing skills (O.K, not Tek’s offense; defense, baby, defense), what is their forte? Studying the players; that’s the way I’m playing. I’ve studied, memorized and re-studied the players. Kind of a Jamesian way of playing. I have my picks and hopefully I can get who I want. I pick third out of our league of 12. As I said, I’m so excited!
I’m only going to manage one team even though we are entitled to up to five. I’m putting all my effort into my one. I can’t image juggling five. I can barely walk and chew gum at the same time. Maybe that will be next year’s goal. No, not walking and chewing gum, but having an AL team and a NL team. That would be more than a fantasy; that would be a dream.
One thing I am going to stay away from, though, are juicers. I refuse to select
players for my team that I believe have or, worse, still use ‘roids. I try not to be a hypocrite. In fact, being hypocritical is a character flaw which I believe is
inexcusable…it is by choice. I play by the rules. I have my mental list of players whom I believe are not true to their sport and I won’t touch them with a ten foot pole. That is my silent protest.
So, I have cleared my calendar and await Wednesday with eager anticipation. I won’t answer my phone; answer the door; no IM’s; the dog is going to have to be in his kennel; nothing is going to keep me from my picks. Wish me luck!