Now, that show was a blast. I worked on 28 episodes, cowriting four, including the 250th episode and the last original episode to air (but not what’s considered the “final episode”).
It was 1996, and while I was writing on Married . . . With Children, I met and started dating a woman seriously. And when I wasn’t spending time with her or working, I was becoming obsessed with fantasy sports. In addition to the Fat Dogs, the Lone Star League, and the Doug Logan League, I had joined a fantasy hoops league plus four more football and baseball leagues with some other LA-based Syracuse grads.
I remember being in the writers’ room at work and putting possible lineups on the back of my scripts. During breaks, while everyone else was making calls, I was online, looking at stats and scrolling through player updates. I was winning a lot more leagues than not, and more important, I was not alone in my growing obsession.
Fantasy football was just starting to become semipopular. Fantasy would occasionally be mentioned in the mainstream media. Usually by an ex-athlete analyst who clearly didn’t play. (Typical advice: “Hey, pick up rookie Karim Abdul-Jabbar!” Dude, it’s week 15. He’s been owned all season!) But at least it was a start.
There was actually a nationally syndicated fantasy football TV show back then that was on at odd hours (shout out to Brady Tinker!), plus a few segments on radio. The big websites like ESPN and Yahoo had just started offering fantasy sports columns, and Bill Simmons, the most popular sports columnist in the country, would occasionally write about fantasy. In fact, I believe Bill was the first (and only) mainstream national sports columnist to admit to playing fantasy in those days. But information was generally hard to find. And when you met someone else who played, it was thrilling, as if you two shared a secret life that most people hadn’t heard about, let alone understood. It was like when you’re a fan of an obscure band and you meet a fellow fan and you talk excitedly at them. “I know! I love their second album too!” “Did you see them at the Wiltern?” “I have the acoustic bootleg where they do a Jane’s Addiction cover!”
Fantasy sports wasn’t just invading my work life, it was also at home. While my girlfriend was watching TV, I was reading everything I could get my hands on. As my girlfriend waited for me so we could go out, I’d be on the phone with a league-mate, trying to pull a deal. While my girlfriend slept, I stayed up late studying free agents in my leagues like they were the Zapruder film. I was in double-digit fantasy leagues by that time, and my obsession was growing to the point that every single time I had a draft day I actually started to hide it from my girlfriend.
Just like Jacob Karp, whose “In It to Win It” fantasy football league draft got scheduled when he’d be on a romantic trip in Europe. “My girlfriend is a cool chick, but she wasn’t going to be pumped on me spending time in Santorini drafting a fantasy football team,” remembers Jacob.
But what initially seemed bad turned into a plus: the draft was scheduled for the middle of the night there. So what does Jacob do? Takes the girlfriend out to a nice dinner, orders bottles and bottles of wine, and gets her totally hammered. That’s right. Jacob became the first man in history to get a girl drunk to not sleep with her.
Back at the villa, she passed out cold. Jacob quietly escaped to draft a fantasy team. He says, “The next morning my girlfriend awoke with a headache and, more importantly, zero suspicions. Boom.”
Boom indeed. As any fantasy owner worth his salt will tell you, you can’t miss draft day. Because it’s not just the best day of the year, if you want to compete that year, it’s the only day of the year. That simple. Come hell or high water, you draft.
No matter where you are.
Even if you are in temple for the Jewish High Holidays? Even if you are in temple for the Jewish High Holidays.
It was Yom Kippur, the holiest of the Jewish High Holidays, and Michael Gottlieb’s Syracuse, New York–based fantasy hockey draft was happening with or without him. He couldn’t miss services, and since cell phones are not permitted in the sanctuary, he had to get creative.
“I positioned myself at the end of the aisle near the back of the synagogue. During each round, my buddy would stand outside and talk to the league. I told him to write each pick on a small piece of paper no bigger than his palm.”
When it was Michael’s turn, his buddy would walk into the synagogue, Michael would read over the names picked, and then whisper his pick to him. His family, Michael tells me, never knew. “I did, however, overhear someone say they thought someone was having explosive diarrhea because he was constantly leaving the service.”
You see that, folks? People would rather be seen as having explosive diarrhea than reveal that they’re drafting a fantasy sports team. We’ve come so far.
Michael continues: “I am proud to say that my team, Forsberg’s Spleen, won that league convincingly.”
There is one thing I definitely learned doing this book. No matter what you believe in religiously, there’s someone who is happy to violate it for fantasy sports. In 2009 Matthew Mahn’s church youth group went to a church in Tulsa, Oklahoma, to do a special youth service on his draft day.
So Matthew skipped out of church, snuck into the pastor’s office, got on the pastor’s computer, and quietly drafted a team. Remember, he’s visiting this church and doesn’t know anyone. But draft day went off without a hitch and no one was the wiser. Even better? Matthew won the league that year, his first title ever. He adds, “I’ve been in plenty of leagues since, and to this day the team I drafted in a church is the only one to ever win a title.”
Huh. Both Michael and Matthew drafted their teams in houses of worship, and both won their leagues. Maybe the rest of us are doing it wrong by drafting at people’s houses, at bars, at . . . the White House Situation Room?
Check out this passage from Michael K. Bohn’s book Nerve Center: “Clinton’s national security advisers, Tony Lake, Sandy Berger [both avid baseball fans], and others used [the Situation Room] to conduct their Rotisserie League draft during Clinton’s first term.” Tony Lake recalled their hobby: “We held our player drafts in the Situation Room, each of us chipping in twenty-three dollars to build a pot that went to the winning team at the end of the season.”
Hard to top the room where national security decisions are made for a unique and crazy place to draft, but thanks to wi-fi and mobile technology, it doesn’t mean people haven’t tried.
Brandon Bruce drafted from Disneyland while his wife and kids were on rides. Jeremy Harshey drafted while at an outdoor Ted Nugent concert, and Alex Timmons drafted during a USC football game, sitting in the stands at the LA Coliseum. Matt Hediger drafted from his phone while sitting in court, as he was a witness in a robbery and got summoned to appear on his draft day. “Your honor, I saw the defendant . . . Dammit, he took Harvin!”
When Arthur Lenk was named Israel’s ambassador to Azerbaijan, it meant he had to draft from Baku, Azerbaijan, with the rest of his league in Israel. After some technology issues, the only way he could do the draft was by phone, and a lengthy call from Azerbaijan to Israel cost much more than any prize money he could have won in the league. He still made the call.
In August of 2000, Dr. Satch of the Long Island, New York–based Wiley Football League was doing his residency as an orthopedic surgeon. League-mate Jonathan Stulberg tells it like this: “Kid comes into the emergency room with a displaced fracture in his arm. Doc gives the kid a Novocain shot to numb the area. Doc’s just about to reset the kid’s arm when his cell phone buzzes. Doc says, ‘Excuse me,’ walks to the corner, and answers.
“‘Give me Derrick Alexander.’
“He calmly shuts the phone and walks over to the couple. ‘Sorry, very important call. Novocain should be working now.’ Mom is still somewhat astonished, while Dad looks at him. ‘Nice pick, doc.’”
Dante Gorrindo had to draft during a good friend’s bachelor party. Problem was, no one else at the par
ty was in the league. So Dante did what he had to. He brought his laptop into the strip club. “I made my picks while watching my friend have the time of his life.” Dante shrugs. “Was I distracted by the situation, you ask? Well, I finished middle of the pack. . . .”
Ah, drafts at strip clubs. Was wondering when those stories would show up. “Duncan’s” Northern California–based league always holds its draft at the local strip club. “After the eighth round, the girls dance and lose all their clothes. Guys get the sticker of the player they want to draft,” Duncan explains, “and put the sticker on their nose and approach the stage. Then the stripper removes it with her boobs.”
“Best story is a few years ago one guy who is usually kind of reserved got a little crazy. Stickers on his crotch, girls bouncing on him to take them off, etc. So then he decides to place a sticker on his nose, lies on his back, and the girl sits down on his face to pick up the draft sticker. Pretty awesome . . . until he had to explain to his wife how he got pink eye.”
You know, for a league filled with guys, it seems like a perfect setup. Drafting fantasy football while surrounded by beautiful women. What could possibly go wrong?
“Jerry A” is in the Murphy Fantasy League, a 20-year league from the Philadelphia area. They usually hire strippers to perform a “show” in the middle of the draft. But last year his commish decided the league was going to up the ante and hold their draft at an actual strip club. “So he called a local club and made arrangements for the league to do the draft in the upstairs room.”
Which sounds great. Until they got there. “As I walked up the stairs I felt as if time had slowed down, like the moment before a car crash. On the walls were life-sized photos of muscled guys in cliché outfits like ‘the fireman,’ and ‘the policeman’ . . . That’s right. Our commish didn’t know the upstairs he booked was, in fact, a male strip club.
At that point, Jerry’s commissioner went into damage control, but after much pleading, the best that could be done was the guys got free admission into the female club after their draft.
“Rescheduling would have been impossible, so we drafted surrounded by various dudes pumping up, oiling up, the smell of man sweat . . . the whole thing was very distracting.”
But did it stop folks from drafting? Of course not. If you’ve learned anything from this chapter it’s that it doesn’t matter where you are. If it’s draft day, you draft. Period. Whether you are in a Red Robin outfit, whether you are at a male strip club, or even if you are overseas fighting in a war . . .
You heard me.
I cohost a daily fantasy football podcast for ESPN called Fantasy Focus, and we have a very popular 16-team “Man’s League” where listeners play in a league against our producer, Jay Soderberg, aka “Podvader.” In 2011 Chase Magann was among the 15 people selected to play in it.
Unlike the 14 others, however, his day job was fighting a war. “My buddy Jake Rettig and I were stationed in northern Iraq at FOB Warrior, just outside the city of Kirkuk. We work as a scout weapons team. Our main mission was to protect the base from rocket attacks, paired with a ground patrol inside the city of Kirkuk.” The guys were excited to be selected for the league, but to put it mildly, it would not be easy.
“Iraq was eight hours ahead of the eastern United States in time. And we were concerned that we would have to fly mission during the actual draft. So we devised a plan: we’d wake up around 4:00 AM, fly the mission, and be back in time to draft. The entire schedule was worked out for our day to revolve around this auction.”
So they took off just as the sun rose, but it didn’t matter. It was still crazy hot. “September in Iraq is not fall. Sitting in the Kiowa Warrior with no doors on and all our body armor and gear made it even hotter. We flew like that for seven hours. As we did our mission, Jake and I discussed who we liked for the upcoming draft. Jake liked Matthew Stafford; I wanted to avoid Peyton Hillis. We war-gamed how much we were willing to spend on each position and sleepers we thought we could get cheap.” They landed back on the base just before the draft. (Think about that. They had to do their entire prep for this draft while flying over hostile territory during wartime in Iraq.)
So now Chase and Jake go to the computer room that was designed for soldiers to use to keep in touch with their families. The auction was going along fine for a while, Chase recalls, until disaster struck. “I was about to hit pass on Peyton Hillis [in his last year with the Browns] when the Internet froze. We couldn’t do anything. Instantly we decided to go back to my room for the draft, where the Internet wasn’t as reliable but was run by a different server.”
Annoying but reasonable, right? Except the computer room they were in was in a hangar, Chase tells me, that “was surrounded by giant concrete barriers and baskets filled with dirt and sand. They are all designed to protect from rocket attacks that happened on the base.”
That’s right. Rocket attacks. You have the same concerns where you draft, right? Unfortunately for Chase, “the fastest way to our living quarters was through this maze of barriers. But we had no choice. So I took off running. I hadn’t had time to change out of my uniform from earlier, so I had on my ACU patterned flight suit, combat boots, and my 9mm pistol strapped to the side of my hip as I jumped on the side of barriers trying to get to our living areas.”
Personally, I get tired from repeated trips to the fridge in shorts and a T-shirt, but for Chase and Jake? “It took about two minutes to run at a full sprint back to our rooms about a quarter-mile away. Once I got there, I flipped up my computer and saw that at that time I was missing money and had filled a roster spot. That roster spot was now filled . . . with running back Peyton Hillis. He was auto-auctioned onto our team at a much higher price than we could afford.”
These guys woke up at 4:00 AM, flew all day over Iraq, ran through concrete barriers that were open to potential rocket attacks, completely risked their lives serving our country, and what was their reward?
Just 10 games played, three touchdowns, 717 total yards. Peyton Freakin’ Hillis. Remember when Hillis couldn’t play one week that year because he got a cold? Jake and Chase were flying over Iraq in 100-degree heat. I’m glad it’s Chase and Jake protecting our country, not Peyton Hillis. Just saying.
Jake, Chase, Dick Shayne Fossett, and everyone in the military (special shout-out to those who play fantasy), I thank you for your service, and I’m thrilled that fantasy sports allow you guys a bit of much-deserved distraction and fun. Even if your draft story is crazy.
Of course, crazy doesn’t mean surprising. Because this is not a surprising story. As you’re about to see, it’s not just a weird or inconvenient location, there is nothing—and I mean nothing—that will stop people from drafting.
TIME-OUT:
Picking the Draft Order
Obviously, draft day is the biggest day in any league. And an important part of draft day, of course, is what order you draft in. Picking the draft order is one of the most fun traditions of draft day itself, or even as an event prior to the day. It’s also among the most creative.
Dave Armstrong let a kid’s soccer team kick 10 numbered balls to determine his Eagle Mountain, Utah–based league’s draft order: furthest ball gets first pick. The funniest part is that one of the kids totally whiffed on his ball. Can you imagine? “Wait, I got pick 10 because my kid was Count Dorkula?”
Austin Strelinger is the GM of The Fozzie Bears. And his Denver, Colorado–based Live Free or Die Nasty keeper league has found a way to keep the action going all year round. In January, right after fantasy football season, they all start watching The Bachelor. Every week. After the first week, in reverse order of standings from the regular season, each team chooses one hopeful woman. The longer the woman lasts, the higher the fantasy football draft pick the next year. “It’s funny,” Austin says. “Picture a bunch of guys in mid-February, yelling, ‘I can’t believe Ben sent Rachel home this week!’”
&nb
sp; There’s no end to the creativity when it comes to picking draft order. I’ve heard of leagues that race horses, pigs, even each other. Travis Knoll’s BIG League from Bigfork, Montana, has a fun tradition. “We buy 10 rubber duckies, paint them different colors, and race them,” Travis tells me. “First place in the duck race gets first pick, second gets second, and so on.” That makes sense. But that’s not my favorite part of the story. It’s what they have to do to race the ducks.
“The entire league jumps a chain-link fence, passing numerous TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED signs, and we illegally drop the ducks into a waterway. Throwing rocks behind your team’s duck to give it a boost is legal, and bombing rocks at opposing ducks to stop them is encouraged. Meanwhile, a video camera is placed at the finish line so we can decide photo finishes by replaying it in slow motion.”
That’s right. They not only do this whole thing, they tape it and watch it back.
“Even though we all go to college in different states, we still all gather in Bigfork for the annual Rubber Duck BIG League draft race.”
It’s awesome that all of them travel back home specifically to jump a chain-link fence to race plastic ducks. But they’re not the only league that travels to pick the draft order.
Brian Bentley’s Lone Star fantasy league started with a group of friends from Baylor University in 1997. Every summer they put 10 Ping-Pong balls, each with a team’s name on it, into a hat to determine draft order. “We’ve held the draft lottery at Texas Ranger games, family cookouts, and the side of the road, but on June 16, 2007, the Ping-Pong balls traveled to Santa Fe, New Mexico, for the wedding of one of our owners where half of the league was present.”
Fantasy Life: The Outrageous, Uplifting, and Heartbreaking World of Fantasy Sports from the Guy Who's Lived It Page 4