Today, my battle-scarred companions and I begin our journey. The road is hard and the obstacles are many. There will be heartache and tears...and triumph. When it all comes to an end, the victors will shout to the stars and the losers will crawl back into their holes.
I speak of fantasy football.
The road to the draft begins today. The League of Gentlemen Bastards begins its yearly campaign of smack talk, bad draft choices, untimely injuries, and waiver-wire heroics. When I clicked "Renew League" today on Yahoo, an electrified shiver pulsed through my body. I could hear the faint echo of old battle cries..."Flacco in the 4th!"..."No girls in our fantasy league!"..."This never would have happened if we had fractional points!"..."return yard points are of the devil!"...
The Gentlemen Bastards do not brook failure...we do not tolerate those who forget to set their lineups...we exude fantasy football excellence through our very pores. Mostly. We give no quarter to the weak or the crippled...there is no code of chivalry for our lone Lady Bastard. She accepts no sympathy or special treatment and gives none in return. The jibes and jabs are thrown her way just as cavalierly as they would be towards any other Bastard. Why, someone even questioned her child-bearing hips last season. Mercy is for the weak.
We Bastards laugh at your lineup...we chuckle at your draft day failures...we mock your trade proposals. We know more about Knowshon Moreno's skill set than Mrs. Knowshon Moreno (or his 3 mistresses in Vail, NYC, and Santa Fe, NM). Our knowledge base is roughly as deep as the Marianas Trench, or as thick as Eric Decker's...little black book.
You want to join? [chuckles] GET IN LINE. Our rites of passage rival that of the Army of Sparta. WE...ARE...BASTARDS!
Our entrance exam takes longer than the MCAT. Our secrecy rivals that of the Mossad. Our rituals are discussed in hushed tones from the Kremlin to Langley, VA. Ancient texts refer vaguely to our superstitions. We will not be mocked. We can not be imitated. Our virtues are worshipped. Our vices are feared. And now we return for another season.
It has begun.
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