My husband is normally the most sane and rational person I know.  Totally laid back, calm, together.  If we could bottle that shit, Glaxo would go out of business and we’d be independently wealthy.

However, this is not the case when it comes to fantasy football.  He goes batshit crazy.  I am the opposite of him under normal circumstances.  I flip out if I check my teams during the first quarter.  I do realize that is just setting myself up for a panic attack though, so generally I try not to do that.

Playoffs can suck. Unfavorable matchups, unexpected injuries, a rocking QB that only plays the first half – all of these things can suck your will to live.  I am the Commish of the league that my husband plays in.  For some reason, my team always sucks.  Regardless of who I draft, who I pick up on waivers, who I start, my team is the full of fail.  Last year I renamed them the Detroit Lions halfway through the season.  His is always good until he really needs them to perform.

Sunday I witnessed a meltdown of epic proportions. It would put a toddler to shame.  It was obvious from about the second half of the first game that he was not going to advance to the finals.  My teams were doing okay but it was going to come down to Monday night for me. It didn’t help that his beloved Lions actually showed up to play for a change, yet failed to pull it off.  Then the Wings played like horseshit in one of the most embarrassing games of the season.  All in all, a really bad day for sports in my house.

After he checked his teams and realized the final score was 140-94, he lost his shit.  Completely.  He announced that he was never playing fantasy football again, that he was never watching football or any sports again, that the entire Internet sucked, and he needed a new hobby.  I had to leave the room, it was quite possibly the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life.  He will die when he sees this post.  Slow your roll there buddy.

Of course he will play football again.  Of course he will watch football again, Friday even.  The point I am trying to make is that we have all been there.  At one point or another during your season, you have said all of these things either to your spouse, your buddies, or yourself.  Maybe to random strangers on a site such as this.  It’s not just a game like people who don’t play it might think.  It is an all encompassing and extremely time consuming annual event.  You’re lying if you say you have not screamed at your television or computer, rooted for a team or player you can’t fucking stand, or wanted your own favorite team to lose at any given point during your career (yes, sometimes it feels like a job) as a fantasy football manager.  Or done something like decide that the points that you need a player to get are directly proportional to the amount of beers you consume.  I’ve tried that.  It’s not only an exercise in poor judgment, but futility as well.

He went to bed with me thinking he might never be the same.  He’s still pissed off that he is playing for third, but he’s cool.  Or was, until he asked me how my teams did.  I left a lot of points on the bench this week.  It was an extremely bad week for me.  I managed to win one game by one point and the other by 2.3 points.  Off to the finals for me, for both teams.

He was less than pleased.  It’s tough to be bested by a girl.

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