The Fantasy Junky Manifesto

All he wants is a couple of RBIs

The Good Book

Once in a generation, perhaps more frequently, perhaps less, a watershed work of prose is written, one that defines that generation, and defines their struggles, but also defines their emotions. It needn’t be written by a wise sage or the leader of a revolutionary movement, or even a person with a reasonable level of physical or moral hygiene. No, often times, these can emanate from the most humble of sources, from the salt of the earth. Few remember that Karl Marx was on the brink of starvation when he wrote his most famous work. Actually, I don’t remember that either, but it would have been in keeping with his general philosophy, or at least how communism would come to be practiced later. The writers of the Declaration of Independence were so impoverished that they weren’t even able to drive cars to their place of congregation. In 2004, Carmelo Anthony, a college drop-out of sorts and general rapscallion issued a warning to all of those in the Baltimore Area who would snitch, and the general sentiment since then is that snitching is to be frowned upon.

I apologize for getting sidetracked, but I’ve recently embarked upon a new era in my life and feel compelled to write about it. For the first time, I’ve been invited to join a “Junkies Only” fantasy baseball league. This is no regular fantasy league. With a whopping 20 franchises, of all whom are regularly on the prowl for the finest waiver wire talent in the league, no stone can be left unturned and members must be quick of both thought and action. The slightest indecision or apprehension can results in the loss of holds or saves for a week. However, after three weeks of play, I’ve come to belief that it isn’t rigorous competition or the number four and five starters that have drawn me in. It’s the company.

The fact is, I’ve been sick for the last five years. I’ve had a virus, an addiction, to fantasy baseball. Why would I stay up until 1:30 AM watching an Angels Mariners game when I have work the next morning, only to see if K-Rod could pull in a save, and maybe a strike-out or two to boot? What diamond in the rough shortstop could possibly have been dropped in the twenty minutes since I last checked my roster? Why do I have three leagues? Is this message board really as important as my work e-mail? It’s as illogical as a heroin addict saying that he’ll die if he doesn’t get his next hit. Then, I realized something: not only is their a parallel, but the two phenomena are one in the same.

A man becomes addicted to cocaine, and suddenly, the MO changes: he goes from consuming the drug himself, to being consumed by the drug. Whether the impulse is physiological or psychological becomes irrelevant, he needs his next line, and will slit throats and deprive himself of food, sleep, and shelter to obtain it. Well, fortunately our fantasy league hasn’t gotten to that point, though I do start to get worried that someone in the league may have gone crazy after not seeing them post for a few hours. However, there’s a certain compulsive aspect that links the two. As I mentioned earlier, a drug can become the only aspiration in life. For the founder of my league, a married man and a law scholar (though notably at a second rate law school), his ambitions lie not in financial success or in children, but in a consistently strong OPS and a deceptively quick second baseman who can steal a base a week to push him over the top. For many, statistics are a way to understand the game of baseball and to compare players across leagues and generations. For us, statistics are a game unto themselves. They supersede baseball. When Manny “Being Manny” Ramirez drilled two home runs against my beloved Yankees in a game last week, my initial impulse was one of elation. I took in a Yanks-Orioles game at Camden Yards with my girlfriend on Saturday (note: girlfriends are rare and fleeting among the fantasy junkies of the world, as excessive time spent in front of the computer is known to cause impotence); she was entertained by the pristine and classic appearance of the stadium; I was speculating as to whether or not A-Rod DHing might affect his performance at the plate. Another member of my league, and an employee of my former company, confessed to spending many hours a day of his client’s time checking fantasy baseball stats and posting on the message board, shirking tasks and giving them to those members of his team that are too naive to become fantasy junkies. In the impulse of a true addict, I empathized with him, and told him that i do the same thing, and that there is nothing wrong with that.

The simple joys in life become subordinated to success on the virtual diamond. I have a conversation with my boss at work about what we’re doing this weekend; he’s going to a bachelor party this weekend and hanging out with his wife, but all i can think about it how he looks like Craig Biggio. Craig was a great player, he helped me win the 2006 championship. His average dwindled a little towards the end of his career but man, did that multi-position eligibility come in handy. I specifically remember picking him up after he was dro… wait a second, this is a fantasy baseball induced stupor, a state of euphoria brought on by a reverie of fantasy baseball seasons past.

The sad part is, there is no rehab for fantasy baseball junkies. You don’t go to AA. You don’t go to detox. Your priest doesn’t tell you that it’s okay, and that it’s not your fault, and that it’s biological, and that you couldn’t have avoided it even if you tried. You just join up with other people like you, and concede that your life will never be the same for those six months a year. You don’t think of winter as the time of Christmas, or Chanukkah, or Martin Luther King Day, or New Years, you just know it’s when you’d rather be dead since there’s no fantasy baseball. You sit in the virtual crack den that is the draft room, with people you would ordinarily think of as low lifes, deadbeats, and junkies, and you wonder, how did it ever get to this point, and why am I just like these people now?

The important thing to remember, for us fantasy junkies, is that we are not like other people. We are different. We are not worse, we are just different. We cannot be functioning members of society, we cannot have normal relationships. My league-mate Pat will find this out the hard way when he gets married. Most addicts think that their compulsive obsessions with drugs are worsened by associating with other addicts. I say, before you, here today, that we fantasy baseball addicts are much better together than we are apart. When we are alone, we are outsiders and freaks, unable to identify with the common feelings of the contemporary man. When we unite in a league setting, we generate hundreds of absurd, outlandish, and typically offensive posts. To others, this may seem barbaric and sub-human, but it brings us a profound sense of joy. The level of detail taken by the members of my league has advanced the science of statistics to unprecedented heights, a feat that would not have occurred but for the intense level of competition that could only be witnessed in a junkie league. Every Tom, Dick, and Jane joins a basketball pool for march madness, but do their random 10 over 7s and water cooler strategies advance the cause of mankind like our league has? It’s a little known fact that those plastic keyboard covers were actually invented by those junkiest (and most sexually starved) of fantasy junkies to prevent their keyboards from suffering abuse during periods of extreme physical pleasure after having three starters tally wins in the same day. Experts have predicted that competitive fantasy leagues in Sub-Saharan Africa will one day rid that region of starvation. And so, I hope all you fantasy junkies of the world will realize that your condition needn’t be a burden any longer, you can stay a junkie for your whole life and do great things for humanity. Don’t look for help; look for allies. Fantasy junkies of the world, UNITE!

Note: I apologize for using the somber tone and the horribly inappropriate analogy to drug abuse. It just worked really well. Fantasy baseball addiction may ruin a lot of relationships, but it probably hasn’t been responsible for the decay of inner cities in America like drugs have. If you or anyone you know suffers from a fantasy baseball addiction, please e-mail me, and we’ll invite you into the league next year, or maybe even let you take the place this year of someone who isn’t junky enough.