So I showed up to the fantasy football draft expecting hubris.

…I showed up expecting beer.

… I showed up with my little printout of the top 30 draft picks my fantasy football fanatic friend (FFFF) gave me, glomming onto the little bits of knowledge he passed my way. I earnestly felt I had the inside scoop. I was holding two entire pages of picks, all stack-ranked for my selecting ease. My dear FFFF explained the key to the fantasy draft—the HOW of picking what positions, the when to do it, they why you did it that way. I felt I was armed with delicious, insider information. Information that, potentially, would completely devastate the competition.

I arrive, the first of the crew, and a little nervous. I have no idea who I’m looking for, as the only guy I know isn’t there yet. The first few stragglers wander in and we make chit chat. “Are you a big football fan?” is my brilliant conversation starter.

“Not really,” is the response. Out of conversation, I stare down at my shoes. *crickets*

(Okay, substitute crickets with an explosive Bertie Higgins song via Karaoke. I know. Eew.)

I order a beer. I gulp. At leisure I notice I am the only female in our crowd of 12. (Please be grateful that I did not offer you a simile for that factoid.) Oz shows up, passes out our draft lists, and we get started…

.. Fast forward an hour and a half into the draft. My 22oz beer nearly gone, I have 3 picks that were on my list—none that were at the top. The rest have long since been gobbled up by the table full of mostly football-lovin’ men (and one "meh" on football man). Men who KNOW football (except that one guy).

And when I say know, I mean intimately.

And when I say intimately, I mean [simile removed]. They know all there is to know about the players, right down to childhood immunization records, next door neighbors, and who owns car dealerships.

“Should I pick this guy?” I ask Oz for the umpteenth time, tentatively poking the ESPN draft doc in front of me. Peals of laughter follow from the opposite end of the table, while one guy encourages me wholeheartedly.

Oz is patient. “Well, he’s suspended.” Apparently something about a dog fight.

“This one?” I try.

“Injured. Out the first few weeks of the season.”

Suddenly I’m groggy and overwhelmed. Eye wide, I stab at the next two name down. “Him, or… him?”

Suddenly the table is abuzz.

“Oh yeah, his QB is great this year—“

“—Yeah excellent offensive line.”

“I’d go with him before that guy, his team is—“

And so I am sold. THIS was the draft. Twelve people, SIXTEEN rounds of names, careful attention to crossing off players. Everybody knows the players, everybody knows the players offensive lines. Everybody but me. (And that one guy.)

I knew squat. THIS was my hubris-purging night.

Thank you OZ, for seeing me through. Your patience and guidance were much appreciated.

And so moms, stay posted to hear about StarRainbowUnicorns. Root us on. Follow the season.

Now let us bow our heads...

"Almighty and ever-living moms,
let it be known that I suffered for you,
so that you may bask in the glory that is Fantasy Football.

Go forth now in peace and love,
to serve the ‘Corns.*

Whoa-Men."

This Week's StarRainbowUnicorns Line-up:

QB: Drew Brees

RB: Steve Jackson

RB: Reggie Bush

WR: Reggie Wayne

WR: Roy Williams

RB: Greg Jennings

TE: Heath Miller

Kicker: Phil Dawson

Defensive line: Vikings

________

*That would be their nickname. At least until something better comes along.