I have to admit that I am not in the least bit athletic, nor am I terribly interested in sports but in my house growing up, we were football people. More specifically, we are 49er fans. I loved hanging out with my fam, watching the game, having Super Bowl parties – all of it. I guess I am into it for the social aspect.
I remember the first year my husband played Fantasy Football. We’d rush home from church to catch the game, and we’d park ourselves on the couch Monday nights. I would start to ask, “Why are we watching THIS game?” then realize it was because of his Fantasy team. Games we would normally care nothing about, we had a sudden vested interest in. So, I got sucked in. I then began threatening to one day play Fantasy Football. I am just in it for trash-talking with the guys. (My husband really likes it when I trash talk about sports. Hotness points!)
Last year, I made good on my threat. I joined the league. I got lucky and ended up with a good team and never once touched my roster all season. (I even LOST my password to login! But that’s a different story…) The guys were FURIOUS as my team, the Oompa Loompas, dominated them. Angry texts and Facebook posts ensued. Dirty looks in church, even. I came in 3rd (I think). Not too shabby for my 1st year! Not too bad for a dumb girl!
I take absolutely NO credit for my wins. It was pure, dumb luck. It is just funny how these guys mess with their lineups, haggle over trading players, talk a lot of smack and at the end of the day – they got beat by a girl. A dumb one who barely knows anything about anything.
This year, my team, the Fluffy Bunnies, are going to hop all the way to victory.