In 2007, my life changed even more than Eli Manning's and the Giants'. I got married, moved to the suburbs, became a father, and -- in perhaps the most radical change -- began playing fantasy football. Becoming a husband and father was daunting enough. But to tack on an NFL.com fantasy football team? Well, that was a bit overwhelming.
It really started back in 2006, when I was invited to draft a fantasy football team. The team I drafted -- including quarterback Peyton Manning, wide receiver Torry Holt, and running back Cadillac Williams -- looked, on paper, like the best team in the league. But the team never was activated.
Then last year, the editors at this magazine activated our teams, and we played all year long. What started as fantasy quickly became reality. For the first time, I owned an actual fantasy football team. Let the obsession begin!
Each week -- and I truly hope my boss isn't reading this -- I found myself watching games to see how my players were faring rather than the news they were making. You know you've been there too!
Each week, like any coach or executive, I found my moods greatly affected by how well or how poorly my team performed. C'mon, you have too, right?
Each week -- and I truly hope my wife is not reading this -- I found myself foregoing family time in order to scan the fantasy waiver wire. Sorry, family!
And like any other fantasy football owner, each week I found myself desperately seeking running backs. Wow . . . did mine get crushed in 2007.
My team began to act like our locker room had a revolving door. My personnel evaluations were dead on; my timing was not. Early in the season, I picked up Green Bay running back Ryan Grant -- and cut him after he sat on the bench for a few weeks. (Oops.) I dropped Grant for Oakland running back Justin Fargas, but when Dominic Rhodes returned, I dropped Fargas for Kansas City running back Kolby Smith. Then I dropped Smith to pick up Denver running back Andre Hall; the next Sunday, Chiefs running back Larry Johnson broke his foot and, as was the case with Grant and Fargas, Smith was claimed well before my waiver turn. Did you follow that? I did . . . through every agonizing turn.
There were nights -- and I can't believe I'm admitting this -- that I actually woke up at three in the morning to see if my waiver claims came through. The good ones rarely did.
RBs became my obsession. Sundays took on different meaning. Weekdays were for waiver-wire moves. Fantasy football became an addiction no different from the one that afflicts millions of football fans -- people like you. And now I understand why. This stuff is fun. It's like being an NFL GM -- without having to deal with players asking to renegotiate their contracts.
My awareness of the fantasy game dated back to the late 1990s, when I remember a reporter asking slumping Broncos quarterback Brian Griese what he would say to fantasy football players who owned him. I remember being personally appalled at the question, though not nearly as much as Griese was. His abrupt answer, basically, was: I don't give a rat's-you-know-what about your fantasy team.
Nor did I. Only now, the story -- and my life -- are vastly different. There is a wife, a son, and a new hobby. This column might go on and on, reliving my rookie year of fantasy football, but quite frankly, it can't.
I have to go get ready for my 2008 fantasy draft. And I think my kid has a birthday somewhere in there too.