ATLANTIC CITY, N.J. - Try and explain it to anyone else and they might think it's creepy. But to us it's what we
live for, which maybe IS the definition of creepy. And, in a way, the fate of our entire autumn pigskin pleasure
hinges on what we do on a Saturday afternoon in late August.
The novelty of the Retired Orangemen Fantasy Football League's fifth anniversary has worn off, and now we're
just a bunch of late 20-year olds - some of whom are even married if you can believe that - who for the sixth
year in a row crammed into a hotel room for seven hours and made selections based on nothing more than
what we think is going to happen.
Ah, fantasy football.
If you're in, you know what it's all about. If you're not, then I can't explain it to you because you won't get it
or won't want to.
It's a two-billion dollar industry costing companies countless hours of productivity and dollars on the bottom
line. It's ruined lives, relationships and waistlines, and has changed the way we watch the game we
love.
Your favorite team just picked up Randy Moss; how's that affect Benjamin Watson's future production?
Donald Driver twists an ankle in a preseason game, should I keep him now? Larry Johnson holding out,
what do you do about possibly drafting Priest Holmes?
Questions, questions and more questions and the only answer is: Who knows?
It's all up in the air until the games get underway and that's the beauty and genius of drafting. It's all speculation until kickoff and one play could
change your team's fate for the entire season.
Us, well, we take it far too seriously. We have a trophy, a Web site (www.retiredorangemen.com) with far too many pictures and even a five-year
recap video, an online store and, for the annual winner, bragging rights for an eternity. Oh, we also give out a trophy for last place - a real life toilet
bowl that the "winner" keeps for the entire year.
Our buddy Brian won that distinction last season, and four picks into this year's draft, the engaged Dave predicted his mug would join the other team
logos on the bowl come seasons end this year. Jay, already a two-time ROFFL champion, boldy predicted a third triumph after the same span.
There were Michael Vick jokes (of course), good picks, really bad picks, far too many pieces of pizza and chips full of dip eaten and frequent phone
calls and text messages from our two buddies who couldn't make it - Nick is on a job in South Korea and Gregg was at B.J. Surhoff day at Camden
Yards - and the quote of the draft belonged to Rich, who came in 12th last year and who midway through the eighth round (of 15) said, "I don't think
my team is horrible. I don't think I'm going to win, but it's not horrible."
Think like a champion, perform like a champion, er, something like that.
This fall, I must say, I'm liking my chances to finally take home the ROFFL Trophy. Back are my two staple keepers in New England quarterback Tom
Brady and Cincinnati running back Rudi Johnson and if Randy Moss and Edgerrin James pan out "Brock's Bandits" could be joining the likes of "not
guilty," "Nomads in the Deep" and "Five Second Stare" as champions.
Then again, Brady could get hurt, Moss could get cut, the Edge could be dull and my face could end up on the Toilet Bowl.
That's the beauty of it, you just don't know. See you on the message boards.
live for, which maybe IS the definition of creepy. And, in a way, the fate of our entire autumn pigskin pleasure
hinges on what we do on a Saturday afternoon in late August.
The novelty of the Retired Orangemen Fantasy Football League's fifth anniversary has worn off, and now we're
just a bunch of late 20-year olds - some of whom are even married if you can believe that - who for the sixth
year in a row crammed into a hotel room for seven hours and made selections based on nothing more than
what we think is going to happen.
Ah, fantasy football.
If you're in, you know what it's all about. If you're not, then I can't explain it to you because you won't get it
or won't want to.
It's a two-billion dollar industry costing companies countless hours of productivity and dollars on the bottom
line. It's ruined lives, relationships and waistlines, and has changed the way we watch the game we
love.
Your favorite team just picked up Randy Moss; how's that affect Benjamin Watson's future production?
Donald Driver twists an ankle in a preseason game, should I keep him now? Larry Johnson holding out,
what do you do about possibly drafting Priest Holmes?
Questions, questions and more questions and the only answer is: Who knows?
It's all up in the air until the games get underway and that's the beauty and genius of drafting. It's all speculation until kickoff and one play could
change your team's fate for the entire season.
Us, well, we take it far too seriously. We have a trophy, a Web site (www.retiredorangemen.com) with far too many pictures and even a five-year
recap video, an online store and, for the annual winner, bragging rights for an eternity. Oh, we also give out a trophy for last place - a real life toilet
bowl that the "winner" keeps for the entire year.
Our buddy Brian won that distinction last season, and four picks into this year's draft, the engaged Dave predicted his mug would join the other team
logos on the bowl come seasons end this year. Jay, already a two-time ROFFL champion, boldy predicted a third triumph after the same span.
There were Michael Vick jokes (of course), good picks, really bad picks, far too many pieces of pizza and chips full of dip eaten and frequent phone
calls and text messages from our two buddies who couldn't make it - Nick is on a job in South Korea and Gregg was at B.J. Surhoff day at Camden
Yards - and the quote of the draft belonged to Rich, who came in 12th last year and who midway through the eighth round (of 15) said, "I don't think
my team is horrible. I don't think I'm going to win, but it's not horrible."
Think like a champion, perform like a champion, er, something like that.
This fall, I must say, I'm liking my chances to finally take home the ROFFL Trophy. Back are my two staple keepers in New England quarterback Tom
Brady and Cincinnati running back Rudi Johnson and if Randy Moss and Edgerrin James pan out "Brock's Bandits" could be joining the likes of "not
guilty," "Nomads in the Deep" and "Five Second Stare" as champions.
Then again, Brady could get hurt, Moss could get cut, the Edge could be dull and my face could end up on the Toilet Bowl.
That's the beauty of it, you just don't know. See you on the message boards.
