Alright, I admit it. Fantasy football takes a shitload of knowledge and intuition that I just do not possess.
Initially I thought that it would be good for me. I thought hey, football will be on in this house all winter anyway, this is a great way to give me incentive to get involved. To learn. Broaden my horizons and have some healthy competition.
Yeah, no, that’s not what has happened at all.
I knew when we did our fantasy draft that I was a little out of my element. Like I said before, I picked Mark Ingram because of those MASSIVE. ARMS. The rest of my team I picked up based on names I knew and what the little Yahoo! drop box said about a player during the draft.
Which explains how I ended up with Terrell Owens, who is I think retired now, and a bunch of other players that I don’t even know enough about to know which to point out as the worst.
This is not my game.
And what’s worse, instead of being driven to care and watch the games and tweak my team for any given week, I think about how much knitting I could be doing.
There should be a similar passive point based game for things like American Idol, or The Bachelor. THAT I could get behind and totally know what was up.
Is that contributing to weak women stereotypes? I hope not. That isn’t my intention.
It’s just…I don’t know. I don’t understand the rules of football well enough, much less which player threw to who and who is due to have a comeback this week as opposed to sucking it up and losing me points last week.
So I sit. Emphatically at the bottom of the league pile. Because not only do I not know what to do, I don’t really even care.