So, let me just start this by saying… I was robbed. Completely and utterly robbed.
I love my team mates, I’ve made friends for life in this sport, I’ve made enemies, i’ve been involved in politics, I’ve had very happy memories, and I’ve taken many downs alongside many ups. I love football, and I love my team mates.
Most of the time. I was robbed.
Now, we train hard, we work hard, the core of the team have an amazing bond, and there’s a group of a dozen or so of us who dedicate ourselves to football above just about anything else. I have a connection and a relationship with them like nobody else.
But there’s one time when I loathe them. I loathe them and everything they stand for. I was robbed.
This time comes just around Christmas every year. A time when peace and goodwill resonates around 99% of the world’s population. A time when people rejoice in giving and receiving gifts, a time when smiles prevail and all is right with the world, when robins sit atop every snow covered post box, every child wears mittens to build wonky snowmen, and a time when a jolly fat man visits every child in the world.
It’s fair to say there was no jolly fat man in my house this year. I was robbed.
Fantasy football is not a game, it’s a life experience, and on Christmas eve, as I had the NFL offices on speed dial to insist that the games were replayed, and the Police on the other line as I tried to register the rape, pillage and general destruction I’d fallen victim to, I held my head in my hands and I sobbed.
Why? Two words – Arian. Foster. The guy who had taken me all the way, the guy who I’d taken in the First round of the draft, and the guy who had been healthy all year long. That guy. That guy who was predicted to net me 25+ points, and brought home… 2. Now, had he been injured I’d be sympathetic. Had he been performing poorly and was pulled, I could have lived with that. But he wasn’t. He was taken out of the game for… wait for it… an irregular heartbeat. Yes, you heard me right. His heart wasn’t beating the same as everyone else’s. Now listen up you Texan trainers, did it not occur to you that this is a guy with virtually zero body fat, a guy with more muscle than the average prize bull, a guy honed to athletic perfection, and in the top 1% of sports athletes in the world? Take that under consideration and is it any wonder that his heartbeat wasn’t the same as your average American couch potato? I mean, come on! Seriously! The guy’s black, that means his heartbeat just has rythym – the pasty college interns probably don’t know a funky beat when they hear it! Hang on, is that racist? Let me clarify that I know plenty of white guys with rythym, like…. well… like…erm…
And equally, I know black guys with no rythym like Joe Stickings. I mean, that guy dances more like a white guy than any black fella I know. He got a chance to prove me wrong on TV, but failed miserably, waving his arms around and relying on his “peachy bum” to do the talking.
So, Arian Foster let me down, but so did just about everyone else on my team! Colin Kaepernick was unspectacular, Stevan Ridley didn’t deliver. And in fact I could go on about my team, but let’s be honest, in the cold light of day you need to take a deep breath and admit… Casey just got lucky. That bum didn’t deserve it, it’s my title, I was top of the table, I was the number 1 seed, I should have won it. I was robbed!
Breathe…. Breathe… 1…2…3…4…
Ok, i’m calm. For now. Congratulations Casey – I had to type it because I couldn’t physically say it between my firmly gritted teeth. There’s always next year. I said that last year too, when I finished second…again. So depressing.
Still, the end of the fantasy season does bring one reward, the Gladiators Pre-season is soon to be upon us. It’s the time of year when I realise how unfit I’ve got over the winter, as I tried desperately to rehab an ankle injury from the last game of the 2012 season. So, new year, new me – back running as I try to prepare for the season. Not far, but little and often… Running a mile a day for the first couple of weeks, and then i’ll start ratcheting up the pace and the distance. As I’ve said to some, I’m aiming for a 5K by March. I know others have been working hard through the off season, in the gym and losing weight. Kudos to them, I’m late to the party, but I’m working to get better. What are you doing to get ready?