There’s a lot of benefits to being well known, but one downside is that it’s that much easier to talk trash about you. Sports anchor and political commentator Keith Olbermann is a longtime, hard-core fantasy player. He once had a keeper baseball league with a two round high school and college draft before they auctioned off 40-man rosters. Another time, he did a football draft from the back of the Wrigley Field press box.
But among his many leagues is a secret fantasy football one comprised of various political media types, a league where they had all agreed to keep its existence quiet. Until one week when NBC News’ Chuck Todd upset Keith in a matchup and decided to talk trash on Twitter. So much for keeping it quiet. Oh sure, Chuck can keep political secrets and news sources, but beating Keith Olbermann in fantasy? That he couldn’t shut up about. Thanks, Chuck.
Now, sometimes trash talk is verbal. And sometimes, it’s visual. Remember the guys who all wore the T-shirt with the picture of their buddy and a person they thought was a dude? Well, the guys in Sid’s Washington, D.C.–based Fantasy Football League scoff at that T-shirt. Cute, they might say. Because they took T-shirt trash talk on draft day to another level.
First, they all wore a particular T-shirt to the draft. On it was a picture of one of the other guys in the league making out with a girl. The pic had been taken at Sid’s wedding a few years earlier. No big deal, right? Except the girl was Sid’s sister. And Sid never knew his league-mate had hooked up with her.
Until the draft.
Think that would make it hard to concentrate? But this league had even more twisted T-shirt trash talk up its sleeve. Another year they all showed up wearing T-shirts that merely said: APRIL 27, 2030.
What’s the significance of that date, you ask?
Only the 18th birthday of Sid’s daughter.
Oh yeah, these guys play for keeps.
Personally, I love embarrassing others, especially if the whole league is in agreement, but I don’t love it when people who have nothing to do with the league get dragged into it. There should be no collateral damage when talking trash, because sometimes it can go horribly wrong.
Daniel McHugh certainly knows that. Years ago, his brother-in-law asked him to join his fantasy baseball league. As Daniel remembers, “They didn’t have very much experience, and he knew I was a vet of 20 years.”
Daniel didn’t need another league, but the brother-in-law was a good kid, so he begrudgingly joined, figuring he would just check in on it every once in a while. After a few months, all of Daniel’s other teams were tanking, but lo and behold, this team he had totally ignored was suddenly in second place. He could win this thing.
So he decided to take a closer look at the setup. “Five bench spots! Three DL spots! Who came up with this thing, Mother Teresa? I’d never seen a system more geared toward manipulation.”
Daniel realized that he could make up the most ground in saves. So he went to work. “I filled my DL spots with closers still a few weeks from coming off the injury list. I handcuffed. I streamed. Effectively, I cornered the market.”
It worked. He rose to first. But a week later, Daniel noticed something: he was still in second.
It made no sense. His DL spots were gone, as were many of his closers, which were now evenly distributed on various teams around the league.
Daniel remembers, “My eye fell on the message board. I saw phrases like ‘fun for all,’ ‘everyone deserves a chance,’ and ‘we decided in the best interests of the league.’ I was seething with rage.”
He was officially blocked from making trades, and his bench/DL players had been released back into the player pool. So he took to the message board and unleashed a horrific rant. “You #@%#! losers. You’re gonna @^&%ing block me from makin’ moves!? I followed the BLEEPing rules. If you’re gonna play %$#&ing Fantasy Baseball, grow a @$&@ing pair before ya start!”
On and on he went, getting nastier and more vulgar. Finally, still angry, he found his wife to get more ammo to write about.
“Your brother,” said Daniel, “what school does he go to?”
“Gordon-Conwell,” she said.
Those dweebs didn’t even attend a college he’d heard of. “What the hell is that?”
“A seminary.”
“What?”
“John and his buddies are studying to be ordained ministers and missionaries.”
That’s right. Daniel had just unloaded profanity-laced insults on a bunch of guys studying to help and feed the poor.
Daniel went back to the league message board. This time he read more closely, scrolling through the league’s history. It read like a ’60s love-in.
“Anyone have an extra catcher? My guy is out for six weeks.”
“Sure, I’ve got one on my bench. I’ll drop him tonight.”
“Hey, a little help. I forgot to rotate in my starters and I’m in class.”
“No worries, bro. I got it. What’s your password?”
“John, that guy I traded to you yesterday is out for two weeks. Sorry, just send him back in a trade request. My bad.”
“No worries. I’ll keep him. The news wasn’t out. Not your fault.”
That’s the group Daniel cursed out. As he read further, he saw lots of gentle questions about Daniel’s tactics, questions that he had never answered. “Why would he hoard closers on his bench or in the DL? Was he aware others had lost their closers and were in need? Why wasn’t he offering them up?”
And Daniel, not having seen these, had remained silent until the day he unleashed more hate than these guys had ever seen in their lives. They must have thought he was possessed. And maybe that wasn’t too far from the truth. As Daniel said, sheepishly, “Fantasy baseball makes me do some really stupid shit.”
That’s a pretty good segue to Greg Davis and his buddies. Started in Americus, Georgia, they’ve been in the Basketbeer fantasy league for 12 years now. They meet every August for a one-night bender at their buddy Monty’s place way out in the country, playing cards and drinking beer until four in the morning.
After some trash talk, Monty bet John that he would beat him in fantasy hoops. The loser not only had to pay $100 but, in front of the entire league, announce: “[Winner’s name] is the greatest.”
Lots of trash talk went back and forth during the bet. It was very close, but ultimately Monty lost. The next year, at the party, Monty gave the $100, but swore he’d never tell John he was the greatest. They tried to get him to pay up, but he wouldn’t budge.
However, by 1:00 AM, Monty was passed out drunk. At which point, Monty’s wife, possibly the greatest sport ever, walked in. Holding a sharpie.
“Now’s your chance.”
Bet? Paid. OFF.
Logan Dorrell plays in a deep 12-team, two-QB work league in San Diego, which means, with bye weeks, every starting QB is owned and played at some point in the year. Logan remembers week one of the 2009 season. He was down six points and had no one left. His opponent, however, still had Jake Delhomme. Albert should have just benched Delhomme to guarantee the win but total points is a tiebreaker, so he left Jake in.
You see where this is going, don’t you?
In a 38–10 loss to Philadelphia, Jake Delhomme threw for 73 yards with four interceptions, a fumble, and no touchdowns for a total of negative 7 points. Logan won by one, and Albert missed the playoffs by one game. Since Logan sits next to this guy at work all day, is he compassionate about the tough loss?
Of course not.
“To this day, I will print out giant pictures of Jake Delhomme and hang them by our cubicles every other month or so, and he’ll furiously tear them down.”
I like how it’s not constant, but every once in a while, just when you think Logan is done with it. The six-weeks-to-two-months thing is sort of genius. Plus, as Logan notes, “It’s amazing how many different sad pictures of Jake Delhomme there are out
there.”
Logan has the right idea. It’s not just about the trash talk in the moment. It’s about making your buddy relive the loss over and over and over and over. A group of guys who completely understand that are the STP All-Stars League, a 12-team fantasy football league of high school buddies from St. Peter, Minnesota. They’ve been together for more than a decade, and in the 2010 playoffs, Chris Germscheid and his I’m Getting Schaubbed was playing the second seed, Matt Mogensen and the SJU All-Stars. Truth be told, Chris didn’t think he had a great chance against Matt, who had a very strong team.
But Chris ended up cruising to a victory when Matt’s team put up a 15.1. That’s not a typo. In the semifinals, the number two–seeded playoff team scored just 15.1 points. Check it out:
Matt’s team, week 15, 2010:
Aaron Rodgers—0.9
Adrian Peterson—1
BenJarvus Green-Ellis—4
Michael Crabtree—0.5
Mike Thomas—0
Jacob Tamme—3
Tashard Choice—0.5
Broncos D/ST—1
Josh Scobee—8
Total: 15.1
A crushing end to a season if ever there was one—just a complete and utter failure. I’m sure Matt was very depressed after having such a good team completely tank during the playoffs. So what does the league do? Never let him forget it, of course. You see, Chris’s league gets together every year after the playoffs to play an annual football game in the snow. And what’d they do? They all had T-shirts made.
As Chris remembers, “Right when we were about to kick off the football game, we all took our jackets off and had our 15.1 shirts on and continued to mock him the whole game. Classic.” And 15.1, of course, continues to come up every year in the league.
I love the expression on Matt’s face. He’s the one in black, of course, and frowning. But if you look closely, there’s a hint of a smile. Like, he wants to be upset, but it’s too funny and he almost can’t help himself. Sometimes that’s all that’s left: laughing at yourself.
Something that was good to remember as I started my second year at ESPN . . .
TIME-OUT:
Punishments for Losing Your League
Sometimes, in fantasy, it’s more important to play to not lose the league. Because of all the things that bring leagues together, of all the funniest, most outrageous, most talked about traditions, it’s punishments for losing the league that are the most memorable.
Consider the tale of Dan Panton’s No Bitchassness standard 10-team league from Charlotte, North Carolina. Their tradition is to vote on the end-of-the-year punishment for the loser. Dan explains: “In 2011 some cruel and unusual ideas were tossed around, from frosted tips in the hair to full body waxes. However, one option stood well above the rest.”
I’m listening.
“The loser had to get a butterfly tattoo.”
Wait, there are two tattoo leagues?!
“Yep. The ‘Battle for the Butterfly’ came down to the wire in week 16 of 2011. There were cheers of celebration, sighs of relief, and so much swearing that a drunken sailor would blush. But in the end, Zack Garcia manned up and got the tattoo.”
Got the tattoo where, Dan?
“Near the top of one of his butt cheeks, right below his back.”
Hold on. Zack had to get . . . a tramp stamp???!??
“If this doesn’t exemplify dedication to fantasy football, then I don’t know what does.”
I’ll tell you what does, Dan. Pretty much the rest of this Time-out. Because you’d be amazed at how many leagues have punishments for losing.
A popular choice is to force someone to dress as a woman. This is Jim Lavin, who lost his Northeast Florida–based league in 2008.
And here’s Clint Hoffman with Josh Browing. After Clint suffered through a 2–12 season in their Cape Girardeau, Missouri–based league, “I manned up, wearing one of my mother’s dresses, and even let my girlfriend do full-blown makeup. The good news is apparently I make a beautiful woman,” Clint says.
On behalf of beautiful women everywhere, Clint, no you don’t. But you have guts. I’ll give you that. It’s not just dressing as a woman, however . . .
Ben Sharbel’s HRA league in Nashville, Tennessee, requires the loser to draft in a Speedo. Tobin Olson’s Aztec Edition league takes it one step further: loser has to attend a party wearing a Speedo. And nothing else. When his buddy Dave lost one year, Tobin remembers, “he waxed his chest and got a spray tan. It was one of the funniest moments of our fantasy league, for sure.” The loser in Jody Blakley’s Liberty, Indiana–based league has to draft the next year in his underwear. Josh True has the “Puppy Dog Bet” with his best friend Don when they play head-to-head. Hot and scratchy, the loser “is required to wear a dog head costume from the moment he leaves the house in the morning until he arrives home at night. At work, at home, at a restaurant, or anywhere else during the day, the puppy dog hat is to be worn.”
In their league, Scott LoMurray and his best friend Aaron Doverspike have weekly, head-to-head bets where the loser has to do some pretty terrible things, including swallowing a tablespoon of cinnamon while getting slapped in the face by a fish, getting a leg wax, and sitting in the back of a pickup truck as it goes through a car wash wearing only a Speedo, swim cap, and goggles. And, as Scott shows, there’s also a bet that involves a sign that says I SUCK AT FANTASY FOOTBALL.
You know, it’s possible both guys lost a fantasy league bet.
Humiliation in public is a common theme. In Luis’s league, the loser has to go to a supermarket on a busy Friday night. And what does the loser have to do there, Luis? “Pick up three items only: a large cucumber, lube, and condoms. And pay for them in the busiest line he can find,” Luis explains. “It’s the most uncomfortable you can feel.”
Speaking of public humiliation, I play in a fantasy summer movie league with a bunch of friends, including TV personality Michelle Beadle. While talking about the league on her podcast, we got into an argument about how much money The Smurfs movie would make, betting over/under $90 million. Loser had to go to the most popular bar in West Hartford dressed as a Smurf. Guess who lost?
I’ve heard of requiring the loser to take the SATs as an adult, to get a job at a fast-food restaurant (it’s not that it isn’t honest work, it’s more making the guy wait on them while wearing a polyester uniform), or to shave all their hair off. I repeat. All.
The loser in Tony Brun’s League of Mediocre Gentlemen out of Hawaii has to place a special license plate border on their car for a whole year. It’s pink and reads, I SUCK ASS IN LIFE & FANTASY FOOTBALL.
Humiliating? Sure. But at least it’s only one guy. Travis Knoll’s BIG League in Bigfork, Montana, wonders why only one guy should be punished. Remember them? They’re the rubber duck race guys. Well, they don’t just stop with illegally trespassing to race plastic ducks. No, these guys are nuts. They decided it’s not just last place who gets punished. It’s everyone who didn’t win the league.
Travis explains: “Whoever finished in second place gets to choose from the list of punishments, then third place, and so on, until the last-place member is stuck with the worst punishment. These include getting slapped on the inner thigh four times, eating worms, eating a small jar of mayonnaise, and finally, standing about 15 yards away from the rest of the league wearing nothing but your underwear and a mask while each owner gets one shot at you with a paintball gun. Needless to say, these punishments cause much bruising, scarring, and vomiting . . . as well as plenty of laughter.”
You know the old saying. The league that vomits together stays together. Turns out it’s not just about eating disgusting things. Paul Wood Jr.’s Bergen County, New Jersey–based Tecmo Bowl Fantasy League forces the loser to draft the next year from this throne. Here’s Matt “Meats” Lucivero, owner of “Unexplained Mayhem.”
Wow,
the thumb is not the finger I would’ve used here.
And the loser of Aris Vasilopoulos’s New Hampshire–based high school fantasy league goes in front of everyone at their school and gets kicked in the balls.
For the record, we were 18 whole chapters into this thing before someone got kicked in the balls. And you were worried we wouldn’t stay classy. Of course, the violence doesn’t end there. Permanent tattoos, humiliating outfits, disgusting acts . . . and now, things that hurt.
Pat’s Boozehound Fantasy Football League is a 14-team PPR from the Bronx with this simple ritual: “The week before the draft, the last-place finisher is taken to a paintball location, where he has to dress as a lion and be hunted by everyone else in the league.”
It’s not the dressing as a lion that gets you, and it’s not the hunted-by-paintball-gun that’s that bad, but the combo? Kinda genius.
The DJ and Pasta League out of Brooklyn is a seven-year-old keeper league that harkens back to vaudeville for its last-place loser. As “Raffa the Gaffa” explains, “Every year before the draft the last-place team will stand for one minute and all the league members launch tomatoes at him.”
More than 200 pounds of tomatoes are thrown at the loser and Raffa adds, “DJ Black’s wife clocked in a faster tomato throw than he did. It is imperitive that this info is not looked over.” We have different definitions of the word “imperative,” Raffa, but duly noted. Incidentally, for you kids out there thinking of doing this, Raffa offers this helpful hint. “Microwave the tomatoes so they soften up a little, bringing the grime level to a 10.”
Fantasy Life: The Outrageous, Uplifting, and Heartbreaking World of Fantasy Sports from the Guy Who's Lived It Page 23
