Awhile back, I attempted to succeed in fantasy football, despite having very little clue about what I was doing. Shockingly, I did well, reaching the playoffs in one of my two leagues. As for the other one? Well, there’s a reason I titled the thing “Diary of a Fantasy Football Loser,” yeah?
So why not do it again? After all, if Hollywood can get away with shameless sequel after shameless sequel, why oh why can’t I? Crocodile Dundee went from wacky shenanigans in New York to wacky shenanigans in LA, and so must I go from failing at football to failing at baseball!
And I started failing immediately.
I had signed up for a league, but then totally forgot when the draft was. I was washing dishes at the time, lest you think I’m an irresponsible moron. Sadly, my squeaky-clean silverware meant I got kicked out of the league. After I wept and wept and drowned my dishes in weepy snot, I joined a random roto league with three minutes to go before their draft.
It was an auction league. I had never, ever, ever played in an auction league before. It took me forever to even begin to figure out what was going on. Nominating players? Why? Are they running for President now? Why not just go order from most expensive superstars to $1 bottom-feeders? I mean, that’s basically what ended up happening anyhow. Nobody up and nominated Roman Colon or anything.
Tee hee, “colon.”
Oh, and the money spooked me out up until the very end. Each of us had 260 fake dollars to play with, which doesn’t seem like a lot, especially once you start seeing big-name players go for a 50-spot.
Nevertheless, the auction began, and I immediately crapped the bed. I thought I had purchased Robinson Cano and Miguel Cabrera, which isn’t a bad take at all. Of course, I was unaware that I had been outbid at the very last nanosecond both times, which meant I spent way too much time trying to find where my new players were. I was like a naughty child on Christmas morning looking for a present, any present, not willing to believe my loving parents had actually gone the coal route.
Finally, I figured out how to purchase people for real, and bought Chris Davis of the Orioles for $41. And then I got to nominate my first player. Yay! Except I had no clue how to do it. Boo! My fumbling around the page, trying desperately to make this click or that one work, and then cursing the heavens because I accidentally nominated someone I didn’t want was a scene for the ages.
But then an actual, no-sarcasm miracle happened. I bid for Bryce Harper, and I actually got him! Unless he proves to be the biggest failure since Custer decided he could handle a few annoying Indians, I’d say I pulled off the biggest steal of the draft. Not every bid worked out as well, sadly. I just missed out on Buster Posey, for example, which is a damn shame. Not because he’s good — I actually don’t know if he is — but because I really wanted a guy named Buster on my team. The fact that I didn’t name my son Buster is one of my life’s biggest regrets, actually.
On the other hand, I snagged David Ortiz. If Bitching and Moaning Per Game (BaM/G) is a stat in this league, I will win HANDS DOWN.
Then, I realized the money was becoming an issue. Three guys in and I had spent close to a hundred fake bucks. I had 22 more guys to go, by the way. At this point, I realized a fantasy baseball team is pretty much 3-4 big stars, plus a bunch of nobodies you hope turn into somebodies. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself so I feel better about being a terrible shopper.
However, sometimes being a bad shopper works in your favor. I was about to bid $20 for Alex Rios of the Texans, but pressed the wrong button and accidentally bid $18. I won anyway. Sometimes being clueless pays off.
Other times though, it absolutely does not. I was down to just over $100 with 18 spots to fill, and soon afterwards became the first guy in my league to have less than a hunny. I had no starting pitching, catching, shortstopping, third-basing or relief pitching at the time. Sadly, Bugs Bunny was not available.
Finally, I secured my first pitcher, a reliever named Aroldis Chapman. He’s a Cincinnati Red. I dunno who he is though. But he was pretty cheap, so that’s a plus. Hope he’s good. Immediately afterwards, I bought Jake Peavy for a measly $5, meaning I finally had a starting pitcher, plus an idea of how spending money actually works. Peavy’s not the best admittedly, but he’s from Boston so I wub him. Yeah, I’m a homer. Wanna fight about it?
By this point, I had nine spots filled, and nobody else had more than six. I was running this marathon like a sprint, and could feel the cramps starting to set in. Next stop: Bleeding Nippleville.
I then nominated Jackie Bradley Jr, mainly to see what would happen. He cost a buck, and nobody had nominated a $1 guy yet. Nobody bit, so he became mine. Eww, I’m not that much of a homer. In retrospect, I should’ve nominated Roman Colon, because that is the greatest cool-yet-disgusting name my 11-year-old mind has ever heard.
Down to $45, I had nine freakin’ slots to go. BASEBALL DRAFTING TAKES FOREVER. But I could at least see the end now. I also saw it was time to get so cheap, I’d qualify to run a major corporation. Oh, and of those slots, five of them were for pitching. By the time I was down to five open slots and $24 to fill them, I was STILL looking for five pitchers. Good thing pitching’s overrated and not important at all.
I then very quickly bungled and bid too much for Hyun-Jin Ryu, whom I did not really want. So I tried to get out of it by pressing Pass. It told me “you have passed on this player,” so I thought I was in the clear. NOPE; the naughty module lied to me. I was stuck with Ryu, along with $4 to spend on two more pitchers.
I then picked up Bronson Arroyo for a buck. In celebration, I decided to name my team “Bronson Arroyo Sings!” It’s always good to remind everybody of horrible moments in our national pastime’s history, isn’t it?
So. Three bucks to go, and one slot left. After bids on several pitchers went above my budget, I settled on Justin Masterson for the full three, and was officially dead-ass broke. At least I filled all 25 slots, since I hear the punishment for failing to do so is real-life death. That seems rather severe, but better safe than buried, so hi, Justin! Please don’t be terrible!
With that, the flipping draft was done. Took me two and a half hours, my longest span of continual confusion since that time I tried to survive a college-level physics course. Will this work out? Who the hell knows? I will say that, after the two games they held in Sydney for some goofy reason, I have 65.5 points and am in third place out of ten, thanks entirely to Hyun-Jin Ryu’s five strikeouts. Maybe failing to achieve take-backsies on him was a blessing in disguise.
And no, I have absolutely no idea what those points mean. This is going to be a fun six months.
Jason Iannone is a Cracked Columnist who’s apparently very willing to humiliate himself for money. Offer him some via Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr and his website, and maybe he will humiliate himself again (actually, scratch the maybe. He totally will.)