Fantasy League Loses a Bit of Luster

Thursday night’s National Football League season opener between Kansas City and Baltimore is being billed as a rematch of last January’s AFC championship game.

It’s not, of course, because the lineups have changed, along with a series of other factors. There are new draft picks, new free-agent signees, new coaches, and other wrinkles that make it the first meeting ever of the teams’ 2024-25 versions.

Besides, for we Cleveland fans, the kickoff to 2024 really happens Sunday afternoon at 4:25 p.m. EDT, when the Browns host the Dallas Cowboys.

Another Season

Thursday is the kickoff to another season, though. I refer to our Fantasy Football League. Last year was my first time playing Fantasy Football, which I enjoyed much more than I thought I would.

Until then, I didn’t realize that in a Fantasy League one has to remain constantly aware of injuries, free-agency pick-ups, and bye weeks. It’s the kind of stuff that keeps general managers awake at night (though I can’t say I agonized at that level).

Sadly, our Fantasy League lost a touch of luster recently with the death of a 2023 participant. Because he was such a private person, I’ll call him Stan.

Stan’s team finished near the bottom of last season’s standings, primarily because he didn’t grasp many of the high-tech intricacies that go with a modern Fantasy League.

He had another friend guide him through the preseason draft in order to be sure that he could select Joe Burrow as his starting quarterback.

As a diehard Bengals fan, Stan wanted to have at least one player he could root for at all times, regardless of how many fantasy points he did (or didn’t) pile up.

A guy who worked 40 years at a warehouse, Stan didn’t care much for email, online searching, or other high-tech tools.

In fact, he was so cyberspace-averse that when he sent me a friend request on Facebook, I called him to make sure it was really from him before accepting it.

Quiet and Colorful

Stan was one of those quiet, shy, reserved and yet faithful guys who don’t attract much attention, but add color and laughter to our lives.

In my case, at his funeral in July I mentioned how I don’t live on my cell phone like a lot of folks, so I’m always surprised when someone calls me. And lately, nine times out of 10, it had been Stan, checking on a weekly activity or just saying hello.

“Now, we had a serious, serious, serious disagreement,” I added, noticing several in the audience with eyebrows raised, wondering what conflict had divided us. “He was a Bengals fan and I’m a Browns fan.”

After the laughter died down, I recalled how early in the 2023 season I had remarked that Stan’s Bengals were looking pretty good after a rocky start.

“Cut that out,” he replied.

“No,” I said. “I mean it. They’re starting to look pretty good now that Burrow’s over his calf injury.”

“No, man, you’re messing with my head,” Stan shot back. “Just stop it.”

And so I did, I told the crowd, because I saw that nothing I could say was going to persuade him otherwise.

Stan regularly grumbled over yet another Fantasy Football League loss, amid his never-ending complaints about the Bengals messing up again. Of course, that’s how you recognize a true fan—they’re eternal pessimists.

This much I know: I will miss Stan, no matter who he rooted for.