Fantasy Baseball

Saturday morning I'm making my first foray into fantasy baseball since 1998 when I managed the Sacrificial Slams from perennial cellar-dweller to a respectable second place finish. Back in those days, I was mocked for picking such duds as Gabe Kapler and Ryan Glynn with high picks, and refusing to play the Yankees on my roster...even in a year when they contended for the World Series trophy. Yes, my methods may be unconventional, but I get results. Well, a result. I haven't been back to fantasy baseball since that single magical season in 1998.

Now I'm back, and boy do I know nothing about baseball in 2006. I worshipped baseball as a kid. I played as much as I could, collected baseball cards, pursued autographs, considered the games I attended as some of the highlights of childhood. I owned a book of baseball data that was so thick it could double as a stool. My mind was full of worthless baseball stats and anecdotes. In college I made it a point to buy tickets to at least ten games a year at Camden Yards. While my friends were out partying, you could often find me in my dorm room watching the "When It Was A Game" series on cable (OK...if I had some money, I probably wouldn't have been quite that lame). I loved baseball.

Now, I don't know who the heck plays the game anymore. From the headlines, it seems like a lot of cheaters. Cal Ripken and Tony Gwynn retired a few years back, and with them, what seems like the last vestigages of class in the game. Maybe Derek Jeter deserves some credit, but I won't give it to him because he plays for the Yankees. That's just a rule.

Beyond the cheating, I just can't identify half the players in the game anymore. Being an adult is no fun that way. All the diversions I loved as a kid are crowded out now by concerns about family, bills, taxes, and other energy draining and not fun worries. All these matters crowd out the time I might better spend checking out batting averages, stolen bases, trade rumors, and home run totals.

Maybe by joining a fantasy league, I can get back a little bit of that youthful exuberance. I'm already starting to feel it a little bit. My eyes are set on Cleveland Indians OF Coco Crisp. Hehe. "Coco Crisp" is a person's name. Hilarious! I have to have him.