On a side note, Gold’s Gym nationwide is 40% higher on 2-year contract sales this week compared to every other week throughout the year. Are you proud of that America? And just think, in another 10 days, all of those obese overcommittments are going to be back home watching “The Big Bang Theory” on Monday nights instead of doing crunches. Our society is slowly but surely rolling downhill.
For full effect, download “What’s Your Fantasy” by Ludacris and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post. To any Royals out there reading, this song was the theme music to our pre-game warm ups at Ernest Durbano field. Sad, but true.
I chose those vibes because of a new obsession that I have taken over in the last month or so. An obsession that the Half-Empty Buffalo has roped me into. And yes, he went to Jared. Congratulations buddy, I’m happy for you. Kids, the obsession that I’m talking about isn’t cheesy diamond ring commercials, rather it’s the geek’s way of playing into real life contact athletics. I’m talking about fantasy sports.
Please, don’t judge.
Back when this number-crunching phantasm appeared on all of our computer monitors, I laughed at the dorks who were crazed over the statistics that drooled out of every single athletic competition that they didn’t know squat about. For the record, a dork is a whale’s penis. I don’t know why I’m giving the Webster’s definition of that derogatory term, but as I see how I typed it, I remember the rebuking The Colonel once gave me for saying that word.
The Colonel: “Do you know what a dork is?”
14-year old Swamp Thing: hesitating “Umm….no?”
The Colonel: “It’s a whale’s penis! Now is your history teacher a whale’s penis?”
14-year old Swamp Thing: “Umm….no.”
The Colonel: “That’s right. Now don’t call people dorks!”
Verbatim, that was the stern discussion that he had with me. But then again, what does a whale’s penis have anything to do with Fantasy Sports? Back to live action…
I used to mock these dweebs and think that they were missing the bigger picture of athletes duking it out night after night. While they were crossing their fingers that their team would numerically defeat a fellow online opponent, they were missing the glories that make up sports such as historical rivalries, landmark trophies, and jaw-dropping replays.
But then one afternoon the Half-Empty Buffalo turned me on to an NBA Fantasy Sports league, and I have become invested in this addicting pastime. Now when I watch games, I don’t watch it to root for one team or another, I want the players on my team to rack up stats so that I can possibly defeat my opponents, and become that champion of “The Homeless Looking Europeans” league. (Yes, that is our name, don’t judge.)
I now think that I have gotten to the point where it has taken over my life. I’ve been talking trash to other participants, I’m calculating season projections on assist-to-turnover ratios for free agent point guards. Heck, I now know who Zaza Pachulia is. Zaza Pachulia! It is that bad!
Am I wrong for being embezzled in a growing online trend that keeps wannabe’s and has-been’s still connected with the sports that we all once had fantasies about becoming great in? I don’t think so. After all, it’s just a hobby, a pastime, a friendly online competition where we get to revel in other people’s accomplishments on the hardwood. And I must accept the fact that I am now one of them, I am now a giant stat-counting dork.
If that’s the case, I will sure enjoy the time I spend being a whale’s penis.
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