My annual obsessive passion for fantasy football is currently at its neurotic peak, as my big-money league is now into the fantasy football playoffs. At the moment my team is down by 11 points, and my season hangs in the proverbial balance on the legs of kicker Neil Rackers of the Arizona Cardinals.
The scoring possibilities are too numerous to mention, but I need a couple of field goals in excess of 40 yards and a few extra points to beat my rival. Oh, and no missed field goals, which will cost my team points.
In this league my teams perennially play well in the regular season and fold at playoff time. The Brooks Bombers have been to the fantasy Super Bowl several times, but have never won the coveted league championship in 15 years.
Just one championship before I die, Almighty God.
Of course, perhaps God is teaching me the value of patience. Maybe when I finally win the blasted championship I will appreciate the victory more, given my record of futility. I am like the Detroit Lions of fantasy football, except I win my share of regular season games.
And Neil Rackers: I am counting on you, mister. Win the game for me and I will draft you forever, but if you play poorly, I will never draft you on my team again.
I mean it, pal.