Being the fantasy football coach of the Shiloh Hogs is agonizing. Only gluttons for punishment willingly choose the role, and even then they come to realize that fantasy coaching is more an addiction than friendly competition among friends.
The fantasy football sites promise to make you feel like a real coach, but they’re just blowing smoke. You can’t chew out your fantasy wide receiver that drops a certain touchdown pass without a defensive corner in sight. You can’t celebrate with your starting tailback when he hits the A-gap in high gear and doesn’t stop until he reaches the end zone, seventy-five yards later. That’s because one of his linemen got caught holding. There are no high fives to dole out when your quarterback reaches twenty-five fantasy points for an afternoon’s work. Some other coach on TV is hogging up the credit. There’s nobody to blame except the man in the bathroom mirror when your kicker sends his 20-yard field goal attempt wide right, when three lousy points would have given you a win. If life isn’t fair, then fantasy football coaching is the poster child for all of life’s inequities.
In fantasy football, there are no team owners offering seven-figure coaching contracts. Fifty-three man rosters are pipe dreams. Game time decisions involve choosing between two rookie cast-offs and a guy who may or may not have recovered from a pulled hamstring. Players who break-out are always sitting on your bench. You can’t throw a challenge flag and the refs ignore your pleas for a time-out, no matter how loud you scream at your TV. Inevitably, your star player suffers a concussion four minutes before game time, when the chance for substituting has expired. Nine out of twelve opponents in your league will have their best performance playing your team. The tenth opponent beats you with only Peyton Manning in her line-up. She drafted Peyton because she thought he was cute. Nobody feels your pain. In fact, your best friends revel in it.
Every fantasy football coach has a hard luck story. I’ve got two. In 2012, I thought I made the playoff after the last game of the season, only to have some NFL scorer change the stats two days later and send me packing. Last year, despite my team’s mediocre 7-6 record, I found my way to the league Super Bowl. At the end of Sunday’s games in Week 16, my opponent led 118-117 with no players remaining. San Francisco played on Monday night and Vernon Davis, fourth among tight ends in 2013, was my starting tight end. I was pumped. I was psyched, and then Vernon laid a goose egg that Monday night and I cried myself to sleep on the living room couch. I vowed right then and there that I was done with fantasy football. That was January.
This is August. I’m an addict, and Antonio Gates is the Shiloh Hog’s new tight end!
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