I play in an extremely serious and expensive, depending on perspective, series of fantasy football leagues. One league, however, is my personal favorite, a commitment that goes beyond the monetary goals of a perpetually indebted gambling addict. This is the league I’m the manager of, a responsibility I took on as a senior in high school that will now be entering its sixth NFL season of existence. It’s a way now, as sort of adults, for old friends to keep in touch, rivalries to continue, and youth to be prolonged. This is the league I most enjoy winning, the offseason pompousness and last place humiliation (winner gets to pick punishment) more than eclipsing the moderate financial windfall.
But this year, just last night, a new and formerly unknown poison entered our fantasy utopia: the conscious auto drafter. No he did not get too hammered and pass out during a pre-draft strategy session, he was not imprisoned, deported, or in some sort of unavoidable coma, all of which would still only partially excuse the idiocy and lack of sportsmanship that is allowing a computer to select your team. He instead actually chose to select auto draft, watching as the draft passed helplessly like a fucking cuckold porn.
This, amazingly, was his “strategy,” since he’s “been busy and doesn’t know shit.” For any of you thinking of emulating this human sized douche, let me in the strongest terms tell you: Don’t. There is absolutely no upside to auto drafting. If you win, clearly you had nothing to do with the success of your team and will be given the literal opposite of credit. It is likely you will be excommunicated from the league, and in their frustration, a disgruntled league member might Tanya Harding you. And with good reason. If you lose, you’ve wasted your money and what has likely been an irresponsible amount of time on something you never really gave yourself a chance to succeed with, again you’ll probably be “forgotten” when the league invite goes out next year, and nobody would really object to the breaking of your extremities.
The entire point of fantasy football is your individual perspective vs. that of your competitors, and hopefully closest friends. It’s a way to build and maintain camaraderie with those that life has separated you from, with college and careers splintering friendships from coast to coast. It’s your irrational belief that Trent Richardson will make a comeback to his Trent 3.0 status, Blake Bortles will become the best quarterback in the league (hi Dan), RGIII is rising like the Phoenix, and the Raiders have the best offense in football that makes this the community and experience that it should be.
If you don’t have enough confidence in yourself to select your own players from what is, admittedly, a largely luck based game in which injuries in the world’s most dangerous major sport dominate the outcome, you have no business playing. You’re that guy who only tries to fuck girls your friends like, loves the Warriors, Alabama, and the Patriots because they’re the safest bets to win, wears Sperrys in the gym and speaks with text abbreviations. You’re a pussy, and should “lol” your way out of my fucking league, and everyone else’s.
Don’t be a fucking auto drafter; have some self-respect..