I was on break at a state standards meeting. The comment took me aback. I had not told anyone there I wrote fantasy football articles nor had I a discussion with anyone about fantasy football. The closest I had gotten to talking about football was acknowledging the disparaging comments about my Raiders T-shirt from a die hard Niner fan. He is a professor of history at UNLV. His comments were well received as he lampooned his team as hard as he slammed mine. We both had a good laugh about the current state of affairs regarding our respective teams. I did not think the comments from another colleague were as well intentioned or innocent as the good professor’s. Still, I responded in the affirmative.

“You know, you guys are ruining the NFL. I used to enjoy watching games on Sunday but all of this fantasy crap is forcing me to turn off the games.” He took a breath and looked around the room, then raised his voice. “If the fantasy stuff does not stop this season I am not going to watch professional football at all and it will be all your fault!”

Heads turned around from other tables as people at my table rose seeking shelter from this looming squall. A few left the room entirely. I thought about joining those who had left, but decided to weather this out. I smiled as best I could, trying to disarm the guy then queried, “How is fantasy football ruining your Sundays?” What follows is my best recollection of his rant.

He leaned forward tightening the grip of his interlocking fingers.

“NFL Sundays used to start about half hour before game time. I could watch a pre-game show and know what stars were out for the day, what games were available to me and where I could watch them. The banter was light but informative. I could ease myself into the day.”

He took a deep breath…

“Now the *^%* shows are over two hours long. Not only do they review every game but there is information streaming across the bottom of my screen. IT IS INFORMATION I DON’T CARE ABOUT! IT IS INFORMATION ABOUT FANTASY PLAYERS AND HOW THEY WILL DO. IT IS FULL OF INJURY REPORTS. IT IS STUFF, THAT IF I WANTED TO KNOW, I WOULD GO TO THE INTERNET BUT I DON’T %^*(^)ING CARE!!!

His Voice grew more intense and louder with each utterance. At this point his face was developing a color similar to borscht, he took another breath in an attempt at being calm.

“It doesn’t stop with the morning shows who even have their fantasy experts spewing nonsense information, it continues all day. The ticker at he bottom of the screen takes away from the game I am watching. It flashes yards, scores, catches, injuries all the information you fantasy idiots devour AND IT LASTS ALL DAY!”

Now his face resembled the color of fire truck; he took another deep breath.

“All of the idiot announcers talk about the impact on your fantasy team, their fantasy team, the standings in their fantasy leagues and moves they are making in their fantasy leagues,” he drew deeply then blurted, “I don’t care about your fantasy league, their fantasy league or anyone’s &^#ing fantasy league. ALL I CARE ABOUT IS THE GAME I AM WATCHING AND THE TEAMS WHO ARE PLAYING IN IT! THE REST OF THIS &%# CAN GO TO ^$&ing *^#@.”

The guy now stared through me. His chest was actually heaving and his knuckles were now white.

I am not sure what the heck I looked like. I was shocked at the emotional level of his outburst. I knew it was stupid, out of line and I could do nothing about it; I also knew it came from somewhere down deep inside the guy. I felt for him. I did what I could to hold back an outburst of laughter in an attempt to validate his comments. The guy had a point.

I do watch NFL Live almost every day. For the last two weeks the crawler at the bottom of the screen had been carrying ESPN’s top ten position fantasy selections. I rarely put much stock in their selections, but I could see where this repetitive use of information could annoy a person. I was still mystified how it could drive a seemingly sane person to the verge of a state hospital stay replete with straightjacket.

Okay. The Talented Mr. Roto is a segment of NFL Countdown I automatically mute or change channels, because Matthew Berry is a twit. He is right about 50% of the time; this makes him an expert worthy of making a living off his talents? Tony Kornheiser knows nothing about fantasy football and demonstrates this in every broadcast. I rarely watch the FOX Fantasy show because, like most everything FOX, they are inaccurate - (although, they are good comic relief if I am feeling down. Chris Berman’s act was old almost a decade ago; still he is an ESPN mainstay (I am looking forward to Keith Oberman and Dan Patrick on NBC’s NFL coverage). After considering all of this information, which swirled through my mind as I watched my colleague become unhinged, I could not work myself up to the point of outrage. I can’t think anything on TV which would make me this outraged, certainly not anything which contains a ball, people running or possible collisions pending at every move. I did my best to make this all good. After all, we are professionals.

“I am sorry man. Fantasy football does seem to have consumed Sunday football, but I have nothing to do with it. I have been doing this since 1989…”

His head dropped as he interrupted me.

“I know it is not all your fault, but fantasy football is ruining my football life. I hate it.”

He got up...

“I am sorry. It is all on me. I am a big boy. I can always change the channel or go work in the yard. What I am probably going to do is watch college sports and say screw the professionals. Besides, they are all over paid. At least it is not about the money in college.”

He turned and left the room. The atmosphere within the four walls eased significantly.

The wicked side of me almost pointed out there are collegiate fantasy sports sites available on the web while the perfectly evil side of me wanted to engage him about the money aspects of college sports. In the end I finished my meeting as focused as I could, then went home. On the drive back I tried to crawl inside his head and see his perspective. In the end I was not sure I could match the intensity. I knew I did not want to try and enter his level of reasoning.

As I reflected upon the conversation I went back in time. Back before the world was dot.com, back when the Big Three networks controlled NFL football, back before the world knew about this thing called fantasy sports. What I really thought about was how different the fantasy world was.

We were limited as to what games we could see. I was one of those people suffering from DFS, Displaced Fan Syndrome. I survived on half time shows and video updates. Occasionally we could get some stats as the day progressed, but where we could really get some early info was off of Sports Center. The only way to find out what had really happened during the Sunday activities was by getting the morning paper on Monday. This final thought hit like a sledgehammer; we had to wait almost 14 hours from the end of the final game until the box scores appeared at the newsstands at 6am. The big question was, “How in the heck did we sleep Sunday night?”

The advent of the Internet allowed fantasy football to explode. Of course it was not all football, but football seemed to become the number one fantasy sport in which people would indulge. We soon had real-time scoring, from there the sky was the limit. To catch up with the Internet, television began to run the crawlers with a constant supply of news. It not only allowed fantasy owners to sit upon their buttocks absorbing information while watching a game, it meant we could focus on the game at hand. Direct TV brought in NFL Sunday Ticket with every football game in the Sunday universe on allowing all of us to flash between them. Even better, the same stats were crawling across every one of those screens. Between live streaming on the computer, live stats for every game, crawlers, sports announcers and actual games, Sunday became on huge indulgent ice cream sundae of fantasy football which began at 8am and runs until bedtime. It has become an owner-centered, self-absorbed informational symphony conducted by helmeted athletes allowing all of us to shut out the real world in favor of the one we chose to call real. Of course it is all over the top; it is also evidence there is some sort of higher intelligence in the universe. Who else could provide all of us fantasy fanatics with a womb of worship in high definition?

By the time I completed the half hour trip home I no longer felt bad for the guy. Misery is an option - he has chosen it. He could choose to be like the rest of us this football season. He could be planning his draft and draft strategies now instead of bemoaning the loss of innocence. He could spend the pre-season evaluating talent, Tevo-ing the NFL Network all the while developing thoughts about sleepers. He could be spending every Sunday locked in mortal combat with a group of owners trying to place the kiss of death upon your team. He will not.

Instead this guy is going to be either completing “Honey Do” task lists or groaning about the loss of pure viewing enjoyment he used to have while watching the NFL. I wish I felt bad for him. Misery is indeed his choice.

In my little life I know the beginning of professional football is just around the corner. It is not because of the crawler on NFL Live, I barely noticed the thing and take it for normal. It is not because the silly season is taking on more significance as it ends (come on Matt, cutting cocaine in a car with a credit card? Hey Brett, it’s not all about you!) It is not because of articles touting the beginning of training camps at the end of this month. I know it is the beginning of the fantasy football season because I am already receiving emails asking me for advice about players, strategies and teams. Oh yeah! All the emotional angst only professional football seems to bring out of its fans; even the ones they are losing.

The bottom line is this. In the real world there can be too much of a good thing and it is not good. In the fantasy world there can never be too much of a good thing. Bring it on! Fantasy season 2008 is just weeks away. More is better.

My colleague? I would like to tell him, “If you can’t beat’em, join’em.” I am just afraid I would be the one beaten.