The league has a trophy with each winner and the year engraved on it. Listed on the side for 2011 is TEAM SUPER PUNCH AND THE THUNDER CHICKENS. “An entry that, no matter how bad my lifetime record is or how many terrible trades I make, will always be there.”
Christian changed his team name back to Team Super Punch for the 2012 season. He kept the logo from the Thunder Chicken season, but he didn’t want to use the name. “I wanted to keep that season perfect forever.”
I too embrace the healing power of fantasy sports. As I was continuing my therapy, I was unearthing an amazing amount about myself, including this realization: It wasn’t just that I loved fantasy sports. It was that I hated a lot of other parts of my life.
It seems obvious now, but it definitely wasn’t then. It never occurred to me that I could actually hate show business. I had worked so hard to break in and stay in. It was glamorous. When I would talk to friends from back home, they were always jealous. And I knew how many people desperately wanted to make their living in it. What’s the old joke? Stand on the corner of Hollywood and Vine and ask strangers, “How’s your screenplay?” Eight out of 10 will have an answer. The other two are actors.
So how could I hate it, right? Maybe I didn’t hate show business; maybe I just hated how my career had gone. That had to be it. As I mentioned before, I’d always felt that “if we could just get on a hit show,” I’d be happy. But then, as we started to work in movies and actually do decently, my feelings didn’t change.
I was never a huge success, but I was a working screenwriter with a healthy pay quote. And no matter what job we got, no matter how much success we had, there was always someone I was jealous of. I hated how I would see people (including myself) get screwed over by those more powerful and there were no repercussions. In fact, often that terrible behavior was rewarded. I hated the phoniness of show business. I hated how insecure and petty it made me feel as I read Variety every day and got bitter about other people’s success. It wasn’t my nature to root against people, and yet show business made me feel that way.
I hated the lack of any fundamental structure for success. If you want to be a doctor, there are certain steps to take, and if you accomplish them, you’re a doctor. That’s not true in screenwriting, where everything is so subjective and talent often goes unrewarded while social skills—who you know, how comfortable you are grabbing beers with a producer or executive—are overvalued. I realized in therapy that none of it was healthy and all of it had to change to keep me sane and give me a shot at happiness. That’s why I was obsessed with my two little fantasy sports sites and was blowing everything else off. It was all that made me happy.
By 2005 I had been doing so much work in therapy that I finally had the guts to do what I should have done long before. I quit show business. The thing I had been working on nonstop since I graduated college in 1992 I was now going to completely throw away.
I gave my writing partner Eric one year’s notice. We would do one last project together, earn a little money, and then I was done. I told him I’d probably fall on my face and make about a tenth of the money I did as a screenwriter, but I couldn’t do this anymore. I was gonna take my little, unprofitable, fewer-than-2,000-paying-members-at-the-time websites and try to make a full-time career out of fantasy sports, one way or the other.
Another change that had to be made was my marriage. We had tried counseling, and by the end of it, it was clear we just wanted different things. No drama, no third person, just two people who got married young and had since grown into two different people. So, it was sad but mutually agreed upon. At the end of 2005, we officially split up for good. Friends of ours say it remains the most peaceful, amicable split they’ve ever seen. She was and remains a terrific person. She was very supportive of me when I was starting all this fantasy sports stuff, much more so than many wives would have been. She’s the one who first suggested I go to therapy. She just wanted me to be happy. And vice versa. She has since happily remarried, and we are friends to this day.
But as the calendar turned to 2006, there I was. For better or worse, I had thrown away everything I had pursued for 12 years to try to change my life.
I had lost the wife, the writing partner, the career. All I had left was the dog, the websites, and a half-empty living room.
I was starting completely over with no clear way to support myself, and I was fairly alone.
I was 36 years old.
And all I wanted was to be happy.
I didn’t know it then, but fantasy sports was about to save my life.
If that sounds a bit melodramatic, that’s fair. But when I was a 10-year-old kid and had just been crushed in one of my first tennis matches, I remember a coach telling me this Vince Lombardi quote: “It’s not whether you get knocked down; it’s whether you get up.” Among my favorite quotes of all time, and one I had to keep reminding myself of as I started out on my own. As former NFL head coach Dick Vermeil once said: “If you don’t invest very much, then defeat doesn’t hurt very much and winning is not very exciting.”
It is because of the horrible lows that we can appreciate the terrific highs. And while you may think it’s hyperbole to say fantasy sports was about to save my life, it is not so in the case of Doug Selmont.
In the spring of 2008, Doug was a high-level athlete, training for his first marathon. He had a girlfriend of a year. And then he was diagnosed with an incredibly rare, dangerous form of appendix cancer called pseudomyxoma peritonei, or PMP for short.
At age 25.
Late that August, Doug’s longtime Orange, Connecticut–based fantasy football league held its draft. After the draft, he said good-bye to his friends. “One week later, I headed to Baltimore for a radical surgery with curative intent for my disease.”
The operation lasted a grueling 14 hours. Doug had 30 pounds of tumor removed from his abdomen. He lost every non-essential organ he had. “This cost me many of my life’s goals, including the Hartford marathon I was training for.”
In recovery in the hospital, Doug was not doing well. In fact, for the first weekend of fantasy, he couldn’t even set his own lineup, so his girlfriend Lindsey had to do it for him.
But then . . . a small bright spot. Doug won his first game. “The next day I had several tubes and drains removed. It was my first victory coupled with a fantasy victory.”
As Doug remembers, “The next week, I won again in fantasy and was released to go home soon thereafter. I don’t know if it was fighting spirit, but somehow each victory in fantasy football brought about a victory in life.”
Heading home, Doug faced his biggest challenge: six months of chemotherapy. “My lack of real-life competition was replaced by a competition that had terrible effects on my body. But I did it. And while recovering from the infusions, I started to read a lot of articles on fantasy sports. Like, every single one I could get my hands on.”
Instead of focusing on his chemo, Doug focused on his league, his team, and the deals he could make. After studying matchups and schedule, Doug traded for Chargers QB Philip Rivers, who he believed was due for a big finish.
Doug made the playoffs, and during that three-game stretch Rivers averaged over 280 passing yards and three touchdowns a game. Doug cruised to the title and, most important, won his battle against cancer.
“As for the girl that set my lineup? She is now my wife. And we couldn’t be happier together. . . . Maybe the point is that when I needed it the most, when I needed to see victory in something minor to motivate myself for victory in something major, it happened. I may not ever get to run the Hartford marathon. I may not be able to play on a flag football team anymore. But I will always have that fantasy championship. Most people would laugh at this idea that a fantasy sports team can be important, but I hope people can see how positively it has affected me.”
Magic. Fantasy makes a difference in people’s lives. Sometimes it’s emoti
onal, like in Christian’s story. Sometimes it’s mental, like Doug’s story. And sometimes it’s even physical.
Every year Richard Karp made a bet with his best friend Brian Naftly on their fantasy football matchup in the Maryland Football League, or MFL. “Started out as a few bucks, upped to league fees, then to maid service for the season, and eventually escalated to the point where I suggested that the loser can’t eat fast food for an entire year,” Richard explains.
Here’s why that last bet was important. Brian is five-two and weighed closed to 300 pounds. “To be polite, he was massive!”
Richard didn’t think Brian would take the bet. At the time Brian was early twenties, single, and had zero idea how to cook. But he took the bet, and even better? He lost. “My buddy didn’t just give up fast food for a year,” Richard says. “He’s a very dedicated guy, so in addition to that he started working out, eating healthy, training, jogging, boxing, and more. He lost weight. A lot of weight. He now travels all over the country to run marathons. The guy is in better shape than just about anyone I know. I used to think he’d be dead by 50. Now I think he’ll outlive us all. All thanks to a fantasy football game.”
Derrell Wright is another guy who saw the bright light of fantasy at the end of a dark tunnel. “I’ve been suffering from depression for a few years now and I’m finally getting the help I need through medication, therapy and, strangely enough, fantasy football.”
After three years of marriage and two kids, Derrell and his wife separated. He says, “The roller coaster of emotions I ride on a daily basis is often suffocating. The thing that’s helped me is my overwhelming focus on fantasy football. Honestly, it’s an obsession, but in this case it’s actually helping my mental health. Every time I find myself slipping into a sad state and thinking about my wife or the fact that I’m not with my kids, I log on to ESPN and bone up on the latest injury news and sleeper pickups. The result? I’m in first place in both of my money leagues. More important, I’m not wasting my time trying to change things I have no control over. Instead I’m wasting it playing fantasy football!
Seriously, though, I’m connected to the guys in the league, most of whom are my support system during this tough time, and without the league we wouldn’t all be in such regular communication. So, while I’m not sure where life is heading all the time, I know, for the first time in a while, that things will be okay.”
Thanks for sharing that, Derrell. Damn cute kids. And, as I was finishing up the book, Derrell told me, “Kelly and I reconciled and have been going to counseling for the last six months. Things are up and down, but we’re working on it and feeling better each day. We’re together and still fighting for our marriage, which is all I can ask for sometimes.”
Well said, Derrell. The thing I love about your story is that we all know people need distractions from their demons. Fantasy sports is as great a distraction as was ever invented.
Up until 14 years ago this past April, Wally Spurlin spent a lot of time at bars. A lot. “I had tried a certain program involving steps and found it did not work for me at all. For many addicts, a big part of maintaining a sober life is finding ways to occupy all the hours we spent drunk, high, or chasing women who also like to get drunk and high. Without interests or activities to pull us forward in sobriety, it becomes very likely that addicts will slip back into the easy, comfortable, albeit self-destructive lifestyle.”
Luckily for Wally, he was asked to join the Purple Helmet league out of Troy, Michigan, in 1999. He remembers, “Something clicked inside me as I began to research what I could online and in magazines. Jake Plummer will always hold a special place in my heart, as he was my number one pick that year. Nine TDs and 24 INTs later, I learned that:
(a) It’s best to go RBs early.
(b) Jake Plummer sucks.”
Both good lessons, Wally. But they’re not the only ones he learned. “Over the years I found the time I spent researching off-season free-agency moves and the offensive schemes of coordinators was much better than trying to remember where my wallet or car was. I just want to acknowledge the role fantasy football has played in my personal recovery. It provides people like myself a haven from a pretty dark reality and a different path to some light. That is something very special and something I am thankful for every day of my life. Since getting sober, I have turned my life around, gotten married this fall, and am a stepfather to a nine-year-old daughter. So feel free to add ‘lifesaver’ to fantasy’s ever-expanding résumé. In my eyes, it applies completely.”
Congratulations on overcoming your demons. And Jake Plummer. Both difficult challenges. And while you never want to say one person’s demons or physical issues are harder or tougher than someone else’s, I think we can all agree that Chris Leeuw’s story is up there.
On August 8, 2010, Chris went kayaking with a few buddies. Midday, they took a break. Chris remembers, “I wanted to cool off and have some fun, so I climbed up to the top of a 50-foot bridge and jumped off into the water. Unfortunately, some dude I didn’t know jumped at the same time and landed exactly on top of me. Instantly, two vertebrae were shattered, and there I floated, paralyzed from the neck down.
“Life can change in an instant.”
Doctors gave Chris little hope of ever regaining significant movement.
Now, to say Chris is a fantasy football fanatic is the undersell of the century. His Bradyback Mountain team has been in the Pirates of the Taconibbean League with buddies from around the country since 2005. Every summer they rent a lake house for a weekend and party, relax, hang out, and pick their draft order. That year the draft-order weekend was a week after Chris’s accident. He didn’t make the weekend, of course, but “I let them know there was no way in hell I was dropping out of the league . . . and I’d be taking their money with weekly beat-downs. Paralyzed or not.”
After a week, Chris got moved from the ICU to a new rehabilitation hospital. He had gained some sensation back and even had some movement in his toe, which were good signs. Draft day was approaching, and Chris wasn’t going to miss it.
“We had it planned out perfectly. A buddy who wasn’t in the league was going to be in my room with the computer at my eye level, so I could tell him my choices. We made sure we had the wireless passcode and everything,” Chris relays.
Unfortunately, the day before the draft, Chris took a turn for the worse. “After a spinal cord injury, your entire body and central nervous system are out of whack. It wreaks havoc on everything early on.”
He had developed a huge fever, was battling multiple infections, and when he was being showered, Chris lost consciousness. Fearing a seizure, the rehab staff put Chris in an ambulance and sent him back to the ICU.
On draft day, Chris was doing a little better, but frankly, he was still a mess. He had a high fever, he was hooked up to IVs, he had a blood clot in his lungs, he was in the ICU, and, oh yeah, he was completely paralyzed.
I speak for everyone when I say, if Chris had missed the draft, we all would have given him a pass. Dude, you’re paralyzed. Get better. We’ll see you next year.
But Chris would have none of that. “It seems crazy to write, but in the pathetic state my life had turned . . . football was just about the only thing I had to look forward to. I knew from everything I had to deal with, at least I could have a semblance of a respite on Sundays. I wasn’t missing the draft.”
When draft day came, however, there was a problem. A big problem. “In the new hospital we couldn’t access the wireless code, and none of the nurses knew how to sign in. I was pissed.”
But again . . . Chris wasn’t missing the draft.
So they call one of Chris’s buddies back home and have that guy log on to his computer as Chris. “There we were: me, talking to my buddy at the hospital, talking to my other friend 1,000 miles away, asking who was still available, trying to convey who to take, etc.”
Wow.
“Yeah, it was a confusing mess, drafting almost blindly, but it worked. I’d yell, ‘Who’s the best player available? Scan by receiver! . . . How many TDs did he have last year again?’”
And get this for dedication . . . on all fronts.
“At one point, a nurse even had to drain my bladder with a catheter . . . but the draft went on! (Kudos to my buddy who remained there through the procedure).”
Kudos indeed. And to the nurse. But a huge round of applause to you, Chris. (You ever try to draft on a phone while someone is sticking a catheter in???)
And thank goodness Chris was able to do it. “The new football season became one of my only outlets. It was one of the things that helped pass the time and drive my mind away from my predicament. I always found time during my six months in the hospital, even at night when visitors left, to have aides read me your articles and tweets and adjust my lineup. After about four months, I gradually regained the use of my hand and could use a phone and jump on a computer myself. That was an awesome moment.”
I can only imagine.
“Now, more than a year later, I’m still in therapy, working out four hours a day, but you’ll be happy to know I’ve relearned how to walk, have the use of most of my right arm again, and can even drive a car. I have a long way to go, but here I sit—typing this message.”
This might be my favorite story in the book. Awesome.
“I guess this falls under the ‘obsession’ category—not missing my draft while clinging to life in the ICU—but looking back, it’s more an example of how sports can provide an outlet to help navigate the worst of life’s tribulations. It’s funny how seemingly meaningless sports can be so much more if you think about it.”
I think about this story and the others in this section all the time.
Every moment is precious. Because they are fleeting. And we’re damned lucky to have the ones we get.
Fantasy Life: The Outrageous, Uplifting, and Heartbreaking World of Fantasy Sports from the Guy Who's Lived It Page 15