After driving more than one thousand miles from Miami to St. Louis on the last day of spring break, I jumped out of my roommate’s car and into mine, then proceeded to drive to St. Charles.
What is in St. Charles? Not much, except a fantasy baseball draft.
Fantasy sports, where we are George Steinbrener or Walt Jocketty; the team with Vladamier Gurerro or Alex Rodriguez is a force; some guy from Pittsburgh or Kansas City can be a world champ; and you get to be the one who gets Mark McGwire for T.J. Matthews. Amazing!
Thanks to the internet and supercomputers that can make a score out of the composite of some guys BA multiplied by his OBP over his SB minus his SO cubed, subtracted by his HR, anyone that follows the game has an extra piece in his arsenal to slam or razz a buddy.
“You took Tino? Count to 10 and think about what you are doing.”
It even allows one to practice bartering skills.
“Dude, what do you mean you won’t take Rick Ankeil for Randy Johnson? Randy is like, 50, and Ankeil was robbed of Rookie of the Year honors. Let me buy you another drink.”
It also gives one a practical reason for watching “SportsCenter.” Which one do you watch? In one week you can potentially look like Gordon Gecko (“Greed is good”). Imagine if you were the guy who picked up Albert Pujols or Ichiro Sazuki two years ago.
How does my team look this year?
The gods took pity on me that evening in St. Chuck as I had just trucked half way across a continent. I drew the number one pick and quickly snatched A-Rod. I was even lucky enough to pick up Barry Bonds as the 20th pick and Jeff Kent as the 21th. One has to consider the karma factor though with that duo.
Sadly though, I didn’t get a pitcher until the 40th pick. The fate of my pitching staff rests in the hands of Bartolo Colon and Wade Miller. Oh well, pitching is overrated, so I pick up Bernie Williams, Mike Sweeney and Placido Polonco (OK, so I drafted with my heart there, but he will hit for average near Jim Thome).
What can I say, I’m a sucker for ex-Cardinals, but at least I didn’t pick up Ron Gant.
When drafting a team one has to stay away from his or her heart. It can mean the quick demise of a well-oiled machine. That’s how I picked up Barry.
I was full of a room of Cardinal fans that still hold a grudge. Even though when I heard about Barry’s 71st, my first reaction resembled something like, “Damn juice,” and “Mac’s went farther,” I took Bonds, because he’s got something to prove and he’s going after Willy Mays and Hank Aaron. Barry’s wand of justice will bring in 60 homers and 120 RBIs.
One needs to stick with rules, and total emotional detachment is one of them, but one also needs to be crafty.
Exploit the bad trades, and find the runt of the litter.
If a guy isn’t following that closely, put him between your crosshairs and dump a bad trade on him.
You can’t fall off your horse either. I’m in a league of sharks, which may love their emotions, but once they hear “play ball,” they become savages who can explain the infield fly rule and everything that goes into a slugging percentage in one breath.
I’m going to watch my back; I’d advise that you do the same.
