I hope no one gets fired because largely, the Mommies are all clueless.
If you hadn’t been inundated already with my twitter feed, it may be news to you that I am participating in the GMC Battle of the Spouses fantasy football league. And if you have been following my twitter feed, you have already deduced that there’s an incentive for tweeting and that I am a complete neophyte when it comes to NFL football. If players didn’t emerge in the pro’s via the SEC, it’s highly likely I have no clue who they are unless they have a State Farm commercial, and truthfully, that doesn’t help a lot either.
But why would a little detail like that stop me from playing in a fantasy football league, right?! When invited, I honestly thought it would be something fun for me and the hubs to do together – seeing as how he’s immersed in all things football from September through January anyway. I was even a little stoked about it.
But when I told him we were playing, he said, “And… why would I want to do that?”
I swear, no sense of adventure. Clearly he’s intimidated by my quick study skills and the threat of my mad spreadsheet formula magic.
But, “happy wife, happy life” so he acquiesced.
Waking up on draft morning, I was ridiculously nervous: What do I bring? Can I keep everything organized? What order should I draft positions in? WHAT DO I WEAR?!
And to further complicate it, I had a fill-in spouse (the official hubs had a family emergency to tend to) that certainly would not have the same level of appreciation for my anxious chatter and barrage of questions, seeing as how he is not bound to the said “for better or for worse” contract. I had to keep my eagerness in check. I even took the news about us sitting in draft order relatively well once the fill-in hubs assured me he’d stop using up the battery on his phone until after the draft so that he could coach me picks throughout all 16 rounds.
All went smoothly except for the time when the fill-in hubs was texting me my next pick and accidentally texted the for real hubs who was driving to Louisiana. They had a whole conversation about the players while my agonizing 60 seconds clicked by. I was forced to go rouge and picked the first name that came into my head: Matt Flynn for Quarterback.
Okay, listen, before you groan. He’s from the SEC.
He played for LSU.
He looks like Matt Damon.
At LEAST I know who he IS.
I’m standing behind my Flynnsanity sleeper pick no matter the eye roll I got from fill-in spouse. Or the injury report I read on him tonight. Seriously, whatever.
And now my first fantasy football draft is in my rearview mirror, I have to admit it was more fun than I anticipated, and not a lot like I imagined. I envisioned the draft itself like the floor of the stock market but with scantily clad perky co-eds, but it was wwaaayyyy more low-key than I thought it would be and we had dudes for our board keepers.
Clearly this lot of fantasy football players take draft day as a “no laughing matter…” Maybe because they put actual money on the game while I am fortunate enough for my inaugural season to be sponsored by the gracious folks from GMC?
Who, again, I hope don’t get fired.
Especially before they can award me the NFL BBQ Trailer as the spoils to my most assured victory. I have my sights set on that 23-foot trailer with 2 grills, 1 smoker, 2 flat screens, and 2 X-Boxes on it for my post-season par-tay.
And I’m hoping they’ll even be persuaded to let me do a carpool run at school and a soccer practice with that sweet NFL truck.
I can see it already, car seat in the back, Princess Cupcake in her cheerleader uni waving out the window and the Peyton Manning cutout in the passenger seat as we cruise down the HOV lane on my way to Mommy stardom.
Ooooh Yeah… bomp bomp… chicka chicka aaaahhh. I think I’m gonna like fantasy football after all.