Looking for a fantasy football owner is always a dicey business, even
in the best of circumstances. Let's face it-- they tend to run on
the geeky side and you look even geekier tying to recruit one. But
when you're desperate to find a geek, any geek, to prepare a draft
in less than 48 hours, it shows.
How far are you willing to go to replace that deadbeat owner who drops
out at the last minute, just before draft day? Like Diogenes in search
of the one honest man, let me relate my own sad tale...
Our story begins in July when I assessed our owner roster from last
season and decided I would cut the dead weight from the ranks. Our
league has been around for seven years now, and most of the owners
are savvy; it is tough to win this league. However, present in this
fourteen team league were two notable patsies. You know the type.
They stocked their rosters with players for other owners to fleece
away. They "forgot" to activate their lineups. Perpetual Cincinnati
Bengals. I concluded it was time to clean house.
One owner (for some reason he goes by the nickname "Chips") was easy
to ditch. After all, he has a strong personality, which I guess is
a euphemism for being a prick. But the other, Clueless Joe, is a really
nice guy who plays in order to be able to show up on draft day, eat
pizza, drink beer, and pal around. After that, unfortunately, his
interest level approximates Siegfried and Roy's interest in Vegas
strippers. However, I figured I owed this guy a phone call. Joe was
polite and accepted his fate, but he took it pretty hard.
I soothed my conscience by quickly finding two experienced replacements.
I was excited about the season.
Fast forward to August 15. I sensed real trouble when I heard a rumor
that one of the remaining owners might not play. Not a phone call
from that owner, of course, just a rumor from this guy's buddies.
In a response to my email, this owner assured me that he would play.
"Great," I said, "because we really need you to play." Problem solved,
right? Wrong. Two days before the draft I was informed by the same
buddies that this owner is definitely not playing. Again, no call,
email or rock through the window from the owner himself. Apparently
this guy just has henchmen who do his bidding in small matters, like
running messages to the commissioner or extorting local businesses.
With only two days until the draft, I had to quickly decide whether
to spend the time trying to find a new owner or to have the old one
killed. Fortunately for my wife, who is spared the prospect of monthly
conjugal visits to the state prison, I chose to find a new owner.
I called every person I knew that had ever expressed an interest,
however mild, in our league. No luck. I called friends and relatives
from out of town. No deal. I called people that knew acquaintances
of some long lost friends. No way. I searched the net for sensible
13-team schedules. I did not like what I found.
I then tried past owners who dropped out for the same reasons I cut
the two owners this summer. One guy, who calls himself "The Hammer",
why I don't know, begged off quickly. Another former owner, we'll
call him "Little Johnny", actually played in our league for three
years-- each and every year only because I begged him. I mean, each
year it was worse, and I had to sink to new levels of degradation
and sometimes even intimidation (did I mention we called him "little"?
). Finally it got so bad that he would hang up immediately if the
phrase "fantasy football" was used in conversation. At this point,
with the draft 24 hours away, he was my best shot. I called him, and
was immediately rewarded by the following exchange:
"Hey,
John, how's it going?" "Fine. You're not calling me about fantasy
football, are you?" "Well, now that you mention it, I really need
your..." CLICK.
At this point, my dedication to the league led me to further humiliate
myself by considering the prospect of begging one of the owners I
had axed this summer to return. I decided against calling Chips--
like I said, he's kind of a prick. But I did call Clueless Joe. In
retrospect, heck, even at the time, I knew it was a very bad idea.
Did I tell you I was desperate? I got his voice mail, left a message
indicating just how much I realized that he now had an opportunity
to dump on me but was hoping he would take the high road, etc. The
result? I hear, through his henchmen, of course, that he was amused,
and that he abused me verbally with great enthusiasm.
I took this opportunity to reflect on the eternal truth that no matter
how well you plan your league, no matter how much time you spend making
it fun or challenging, you are only one deadbeat owner away from failure.
But no matter. Within 6 hours of the draft I was fortunate enough
to find a willing replacement. Luckily, the husband of a friend of
mine on a Church committee liked to play fantasy football. He had
to attend his son's birthday party that night; however, he was willing
to draft by list. He instructed me to go by his list in strict rank
order, regardless of position. Unfortunately, by following his list,
his first running back selection (in the fifth round) was -- Ron Dayne.
Oh well. Maybe I can send my henchmen after Little Johnny next year.
