Autumn, to me, means falling leaves, crisp air, hot apple cider, and football — whether I like it or not. Between Friday Night Lights Varsity high school games, Saturday college games, Sunday pro games, and Monday Night Football, it is all football, all the time in my home. So why am I surprised to find myself living in a fantasy football world with my husband and two sons?
Don’t get me wrong: I don’t dislike football or sports in general. I grew up with sports — both watching and playing. My father was a college track and field coach and known around town as “the cheerleader dad” because both my sister and I cheered for our town’s youth football team starting in kindergarten. During elementary school, I played softball and basketball (my mother was often the team manager), and then basketball and tennis in high school. (I also ran track one year with the boys because there wasn’t a girl’s team; I was faster than the slowest boy, but not allowed to compete, so that ended quickly.)
When my sister and I weren’t playing sports, we were watching them (usually with our dad) — baseball, basketball, hockey, and football, depending on the season. We were big NY Islanders fans during the 1980s and I’m proud to say I was the only elementary school kid on Long Island who knew who the “Polish Rifle” was (and the only New Yorker whose father was an Eagles fan, which serves me well now that I live in PA). I didn’t play sports in college (unless you consider drinking a sport, in which case I varsity lettered all four years), but after college, my first job was at a sports marketing firm (lots of NBA and NFL work), and my second and third were also sports-related (tennis and golf). All this to say, sports was kind of my thing. I liked just about any sport live and in person, and I definitely enjoyed watching people I knew play (i.e., guys I knew in college who went pro, athletes I worked with in the past, and of course, my own kids once they started playing).
I may have grown up playing and watching sports, and then working in the sports industry for years, but I was far from a sports fanatic. I never painted my face or got decked out in team colors (wearing an Eagles t-shirt to a game is about the extent of my loyalty), and I can’t recall exact game plays or quote player stats. My husband and kids, on the other hand, can. Every fall, they take their enthusiasm up a notch by entering not one, but multiple, fantasy football leagues. All that stats checking, player trading, trash talking, and taunting overruns dinner conversations from late August through early December.
It may not be my jam, I get why they do it: it’s fun for them. Part competition, part camaraderie, part bravado/bragging rights — the holy trinity for sports fans. My husband has been in the same league with an old colleague for more than ten years and says it’s a good way for them to stay connected. It also doesn’t hurt that they usually win, splitting a decent-sized pot (which is really just a win for me). My boys also say it’s about friendship and community, but instead of playing for money, they usually play for bragging rights … and the ultimate teen prize: picking the loser’s torture.
So while this isn’t my idea of fall fun (maybe because I couldn’t pick a winning team to save my life), it is for them, so I’m willing to suffer in silence as football talk trumps all else during the fall. Who am I kidding?! I’m not exactly silent living in this fantasy football world, but I do love to see them bond over something, so I’ve learned to let it go.
-LJDT
