This is my first year playing Fantasy Football. Previous years, I had just been a Niners fan and a Fantasy Widow. Fantasy Widow is the name for those of us who go out with our husbands who glance with great elation or rage at their iPhones every three minutes.
So why am I playing Fantasy this year? Simple. I lost a bet. I'll be real with you, neither of us remember what the bet was. But that's beside the point.
Regardless, I am prepared to dominate the league. I tend to be a bit competitive and trash talk is one of my favorite things to do. However, despite these assets, I hate Fantasy.
Because Fantasy Football is evil.
For the first time in my life, I hesitated to yell at the TV for my team. You have to understand something about my upbringing to know how big of a deal that was. I learned from my Gramma's example that if you love the Niners and want them to do well, you MUST yell at the TV. You might even have a Bad Call Brick and a whole room full of team paraphernalia. But above all else, you MUST yell.
I have never had a problem with yelling. Until last week. Last week, I played a fantasy team that heavily depended on Niners. Including one of my favorites: Gore. And so, instead of hollering at the top of my lungs, I was stunned into silence. And you know what happened last week: it was like the Niners slept through the game.
So, I hate Fantasy Football.
Who cares that I now know more than just quarterbacks on other teams? Who cares that I've nearly memorized the Niners lineup? Who cares that I now am actually invested in more than one game per week?
I am filled with shame.
I let my team down.
I didn't yell.
And now those stupid Seahawks fans think they're better than us. Ugh.
Now please excuse me as I get back to my TV and Fantasy app. I've got to make one of my friends cry because he's going to lose. Those tear stains will be so very, very pretty.