End of the Fantasy Line

To everything there is a season, and with each Autumn comes the changing of the leaves, the harvest and the National Football League.

Fortunately for me and for those who still tolerate my "charm," fantasy football will no longer be a part of my life next fall in 2012. After nearly twenty years, it's finally time to put the fantasy football crack-pipe down. A part of me just cried - not from regret, but from a significant feeling of liberation: this is my Andy Dufresne moment, where I swim to freedom through miles of Shawshank sh!t.

Excuse me, as I wipe away the tears from my eyes.

Freed From Fantasy Football At Last!

Most of my friends think it's just a phase. "He'll be back before kickoff," they say. Forget it. This is totally different. This isn't like the time I went emo, or vowed to learn the guitar, or dressed like Brandon Lee from The Crow.

This is final. I'm done.

For those who aren't familiar with fantasy football - or just plain don't get it - I envy you. You could care less if touchdown passes count as six points compared to four, or if each pass reception should count as a point compared to none at all.

At the end of the day, you realize it's all just a stupid, silly game amongst good friends.

But during NFL Sundays, you've probably witnessed a family member or a loved one turn into Mr. Hyde. At 1:00 o'clock PM, they have that Thriller moment, where they turn into a total ranging monster (without the cool choreography or the cool red jacket).

These people from the peanut gallery couldn't throw a spiral with a Nerf football...yet still possess the audacity to call out the likes of a Peyton Manning - the Super Bowl champion and NFL MVP - and accuse him of costing them "their entire season."

Folks, he only had a severe NECK INJURY.What are you, a bunch of savages? Oh, that's right. You kind of are.

La La, La, La, La, Laaaa

At least most sports fans who carry themselves with a shred of dignity root for real teams, not imaginary ones. Think about it for a sec. This "team" fantasy owners supposedly own and control are as real as unicorns. Or Papa Smurf. Next time they "win" a championship, remind them that it's as credible as a horse with horns who has wings. Or a tiny old man with blue skin, who happens to wear a red hat with matching tights.

It used to be such a simple game, before things got corporate, and the peanut gallery got overcrowded. Before the web sites, the "experts" and the magazines. Before it got so overbearingly serious.

So good-bye fantasy football. It was fun while it lasted I guess (nearly two decades), but it's getting to be like a wet fart that must pass.

Any given Sundays should be fun. They should be normal. And hopefully quitting this game will allow me to actually watch the game again, which I haven't done in what seems like... well I'll be damned... nearly twenty years.