Why I Will Dominate the Art of Fantasy Baseball

I want to dedicate this post to a certain someone. You know who you are.

It’s amazing what human beings can do when provoked. There have been stories, possibly urban legends, where a surge of adrenaline and a spike in endorphins can enable the weakest weakling to lift a car over their heads. Now, granted, it may not be true, but it does seem possible to ‘hulk out’.

I’ve seen more than a few friends punch holes through solid walls. Not exactly their proudest moment, but after I’ve gotten them to calm down, I’d subtly examine the damage afterwards with a bit of admiration. Usually their anger would subside quickly and suddenly. They would be apologetic and offer to fix or pay for any damages afterwards.

But of course everyone is different. Not everyone espouses the “hulk smash” philosophy whenever they get a bit angry and frustrated. Like everyone else, I get angry at certain people. And fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at things), I don’t smash various objects in a fit of rage. I do something much more passive aggressive.

I make bets.

Now, making bets was something you did back in grade school to prove a point. “I’ll bet you a million dollars”, was something that we would say to each other just to end the conversation. Our conviction was so strong that we were willing to put up a million dollars just to prove that we were right. Occasionally, someone would up the ante to 10 million dollars, and the next person would raise the ante up to 100 million dollars, and so on and so on, until we were tired of naming higher numbers. To my knowledge such a bet has never been paid out on – of course, most elementary kids have a net worth of approximately zero, and if they did have any net worth, it would be very doubtful that their parents would allow them to bet it all on the fact that say, Wolverine first appeared in the comic book issue of the Hulk and not Spider-Man.

Unfortunately, that part of my childhood hasn’t died in me just yet. And I do have some worth to give away, so my bets are not ridiculous notions. Not much in terms of net worth, but some. The problems occur when you meet someone with the same problem, because then, in a stupid act of machismo, the ante keeps rising and rising until someone backs down. And now that we do have some net worth, the implications are a bit more serious and have higher odds of paying out.

Now let’s name this person “Sam”. Sam shares this similar trait of upping the ante, along with being a trash talker in nature. So naturally, after a few drinks have been consumed and something competitive comes up as the subject matter, the tone becomes a bit more belligerent, and inevitably, the bets start coming out.

A few years ago, I bet Sam my brand new car that I would defeat his team in fantasy football. Not exactly something that was very prudent, but I made my point and he backed down. Now, was it a rewarding experience for me when he did back down? Or did I hang my head in shame, realizing that it was a foolhardy exercise that reverted me back to my childhood? What do you think? Of course it felt good that he backed down, because I WON.

The other night we began a conversation about fantasy baseball. Now, I’m aware of my limitations as a fantasy baseball owner. Our league is only a $30 league, and that’s probably about as high as I’m going to go since my knowledge of fantasy baseball isn’t that comprehensive (not to mention myself being a bit low on funds). Last year I placed fifth, losing to Sam’s team in the first round. Sam won it last year, and I called it a fluke since his knowledge was equivalent to mine. But of course, Sam being a trash talker, declared himself as a ‘stats dependent’ master as his excuse as to why he didn’t know who Alex Rios was. And then he went on a rant about how his skills at fantasy baseball were not translatable to fantasy football, since fantasy football was ‘all luck’ and fantasy baseball was ‘a lot of skill’. Now, to me, this was despicable. It’s like being honked at the intersection when you’re waiting for the red light. And then they drive by calling an idiot for no discernable reason.

So of course bets were made, the rest of table was bored out of their skulls, but I now have to something to focus on. Much to the chagrin of my girlfriend, I have declared my new goal this summer to become the master of fantasy baseball. Now when I get angry, I become focused and obsessed. I’ve already read a few books on the subject and watched more games in my lifetime this past week. To the one single reader I know reading this post, I know you don’t care and you never will. But I will prove you wrong “Sam”. You know who you are.