When I was a boy, we played several fantasy-type sports games – dice baseball, with numbers on the dice representing hits and outs; another game in which you placed cards of Hall of Fame baseball players over a spinner; and a vibrating, electric football game that literally shook the miniature players up and down the field.
I’ve never played “fantasy football,” but last week witnessed firsthand what it involves. That happened to be the night my alma mater, Ohio State, was opening its season against Marshall and I went to a local sports bar where fellow Buckeye fans here in Chattanooga often gather to share in the thrill of victory.
Our accustomed long table in front of the big TV screen, however, had been absconded by a group of fantasy football fanatics. I know they were fanatics because they each clutched stacks of paper containing team rosters and statistics from last year, and were also armed with laptops for collecting and correlating other relevant performance data.
Judging by the intensity and somberness of this group, you might have thought these people were negotiating a world peace agreement, or at least a hostile takeover of Microsoft, rather than forming make-believe football teams.
I admit to being miffed because their presence relegated many of us Buckeyes to a far corner of the restaurant, out of sight of the big screen, but had to wonder about the many hours these fantasy devotees were investing on the startup of an annual but essentially inconsequential pastime.
Perhaps these gridiron dreamers had visions of winning big bucks at season’s end, but it seemed like a strange way to spend time. Of course, I do my own things to consume time in silly ways. But at least they don’t deprive ardent OSU fans from enjoying the big screen!
