Fantasy Football -- the words look even lamer than they sound

Well, as long as I'm writing tonight, I better get this off my chest (what a disturbing image) before I lose this weekend and never want to talk about it again: this year I've allowed myself to walk into the world of fantasy football via a league my sister-in-law's family runs (my brother invited me). Not only that, but I've done well: this week is the championship game and, yes, I am still playing. I went 10-3 on the season and eeked out a win in the first round of the playoffs last week. I had a decent draft but mostly survived on shrewd free-agent pickups. Most importantly, though: I'm addicted.

I always said I'd never start playing (never say always... or is it always say never?) because I like to root for my home team and it's lame to root for individual players. But I still root for the Vikings; I just have a clue now what the rest of the league does. Also, I'm extremely competitive and as soon as I was in, I was IN. There's no doubt I ran my wife up numerous trees with my obsession all season; I may have ran myself up a few as well. I scoured player news and expert analysis each day at work; every Tuesday night I put in my waiver claims; every other day I obsessed over my starting lineup.

It consumes life. But, dagnabbit, it's fun. So I think I'll start my own league next year.