Would you like to meet my friend Harvey?

Two days ago (Wednesday for those of you scoring at home), I partook in that neo-classic of American events – the fantasy football draft.

Now before all the members of the fairer sex on the list delete this message without reading any further, let me assure you – Get off my freakin’ back! Gawd always with the bitching about me watching football all weekend! Could you leave me alone for 5 minutes?! Christ. Have Jimmy your precious work friend from work come over and clean the gutters!

Just kidding. No, I swear I’ll try to explain the phenomenon in a unisexual way.

Fantasy football was created by geeks (probably computer programmers) who decided they had a little too much free time and were tired of playing Dungeons and Dragons and chatting on BBSes. So, these brave pioneers decided to create an imaginary world. This imaginary world is filled with imaginary football teams. These football teams invariably have dumb or not-very-clever names. Names like, “Kevin’s Kreatures” or “The Louie Lewises” or “The Dave Stevens 9”. Names which you might courtesy chuckle if they told you about it, but secretly you’d think, “Nice name dumbass”. Once the imagineering for the league and the teams is completed (and they being dorks, the side game of Axis and Allies), the all-important draft is held.

At the draft, all the losers get together in one place OR (if they don’t have real human friends nearby) on the internet to conduct their imaginary league’s draft. During the draft, the geeks select REAL football players to be on their fake teams. These players are selected on their ability to do, what I like to call, “good football stuff”. They can run fast and far and get into the endzone (the part with the team name) with the football in tow. They are special individuals. Never mind that they see the geeks for what they truly are – geeks and resent the geeks for drafting and trading them like so much cattle. That doesn’t matter. Their feelings are inconsequential.

After the geeks pick some players (each choice of which is mocked by all the other geeks) they’ll generally eat some pizza and tell some jokes about COBOL or – better yet – PROGRAM some COBOL. When that’s over, they pick some more players . . . then it’s discussing if Bugs Bunny was hot in drag . . . more players . . . then attempts to discover if anyone knows any girls, anyone . . . besides your sister . . . anyone? . . . Bueller? . . . then more players. What I’m trying to indicate is the passage of time. Hours and hours and hours later, the draft is complete and the thumb wrestling tourney begins.

When the REAL football season starts, the imaginary one does as well. The geeks will spend the next 5 months yelling at real TVs with real football players on them because the real players are ruining the fake team’s chances of winning the imaginary league this year. Thanks a lot Shaun Alexander – I took you with my first pick – you ungrateful bastard! All this real yelling and nastiness tends to also alienate all the real people in the geeks’ lives sending them far away from that sad little dork and taking everything away from him, except his precious, precious fantasy football team.

THAT is what fantasy football is my friends.