NEW YORK, NY – Got the good ol’ Fantasy Football Draft tonight where I pick seventh, among eight teams, in the first round. This is on the heels of my daughter’s 4th birthday, which was yesterday. It was a raucous affair here at the Angry Ward compound. In between preparing for this bash I found myself dealing with my other kid, Short Matt, who was desperately trying to track down The Public Professor, who was MIA. Finally, at the end of the day when things calmed down, I clicked on the tube to see that the Yankees dropped another game and are now desperately fighting off the Rays and Orioles, of all teams. My head is spinning. I wouldn’t be surprised if I draft John Riggins, Stephone Paige, and Browning Nagle tonight.
Fantasy Island. This may sound like a Kenny Banya joke but, why do they call it Fantasy Football? There’s nothing here really worth fantasizing about. As I mentioned in an earlier column, most participants end up depressed at the end of any given Sunday. For those with good teams, it becomes kind of boring after a while. You find yourself wanting to make deals that you really don’t need to make, just to break up the monotony. Whatever the case, I’m guessing a halfway decent receiver and/or running back will fall to me this evening after the Andrew Lucks and Victor Cruzes are selected. I also look forward to that first pick by someone that makes no sense at all.
Fo’, Fo’, Fo’.So we made it through my daughter’s fourth birthday the other day. It was a fairly casual affair with only a handful of her little friends and the corresponding parents and family in attendance. But even something so low key takes a hell of a lot of work. By the time you’re finished doing all the shopping and putting together of goodie bags and more shopping and hanging of decorations and shopping some more and making your place look halfway presentable and, oh yeah, hitting ye olde wine shoppe so the adults don’t go out of their minds, you are absolutely wiped out. It’s like the parenting version of one of Cookie’s triathlons. It also makes you appreciate all those parties your parents threw for you when you were a little snot-nosed brat. The funny thing is, back in those days, you didn’t have to worry about feeding the adults, because none of them bothered to show up. It was like a free day of daycare for them. And that’s really the way it should be.
Autumn in New York. Believe it or not, the Giants and Cowboys play the first (real) game of the NFL season tonight. Meanwhile, across the river and past the bodegas the Yankees are clinging to first place in the AL East. As I write this column on Tuesday morning the Bombers are only one game up on Baltimore and two and a half on Tampa Bay. They may still prevail, but tonight they are throwing Freddy Garcia out there to stop the bleeding versus the Rays. Not a good sign. They are also hoping that the return of Alex Rodriguez provides a spark, which is kinda laughable. Whatever happens with the Yankees and what seemed like their insurmountable lead, it’s great to see them playing games against the Orioles and Rays in September that actually count, for once.
That’s all for today, folks. Come back tomorrow to see if Cam James shows up to write his column.
