Friday afternoon. The calm before the storm. The final resting point before the furious action that is weekend of a fantasy baseball weekend. For fantasy baseball nerds, there is nothing like it. The adds have been made, lineup decisions are final. The rest is really just up to the fantasy baseball gods. There is a certain calmness and predictability in knowing that for the next 48 hours, there will be unpredictability: pitchers will be blown up, infuriating errors will be made, bad umpires will influence the course of the matchup, hitters will change the entire course of history with one swing of the bat. It’s tough knowing that there’s not much to know you can do about it but enjoy.
Fantasy baseball, especially head-to-head fantasy baseball playoffs, is one of the most nerve-wracking times of my life. There’s really no high like it: While I get a thrill from riding a roller coaster or playing dodgeball, both those are pretty momentary and “in the moment”: when I’m done with those activities they fade away into memory. But fantasy baseball is breathing, evolving, changing every moment. You have to react or else get left behind. That is a very captivating feeling, and I often find myself listing out my lineup and replaying strategies in my head while in the car, in the bathroom, while I’m talking to my mother, and at all different kinds of the day. But the most gratifying time is just watching the games. Friday night, every major league team (except sometimes those playing at Wrigley Field) is in play. There are often 7, 10, sometimes even 13 games going on at the same time. You tune into one game to catch an at-bat only to realize someone else on your team has homered elsewhere. Your starting pitching gets out of a bases-loaded jam, but before you can even breathe a sigh of relief your relief pitcher’s given up a long home run to your opponent’s best hitter. For those hours on Friday afternoon, especially on the West Coast, I block out everything else and am glad I hurried to finish my work earlier in the afternoon.
I realize, though, that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Fantasy baseball is the greatest game ever. Let the games begin.
Fantasy baseball, especially head-to-head fantasy baseball playoffs, is one of the most nerve-wracking times of my life. There’s really no high like it: While I get a thrill from riding a roller coaster or playing dodgeball, both those are pretty momentary and “in the moment”: when I’m done with those activities they fade away into memory. But fantasy baseball is breathing, evolving, changing every moment. You have to react or else get left behind. That is a very captivating feeling, and I often find myself listing out my lineup and replaying strategies in my head while in the car, in the bathroom, while I’m talking to my mother, and at all different kinds of the day. But the most gratifying time is just watching the games. Friday night, every major league team (except sometimes those playing at Wrigley Field) is in play. There are often 7, 10, sometimes even 13 games going on at the same time. You tune into one game to catch an at-bat only to realize someone else on your team has homered elsewhere. Your starting pitching gets out of a bases-loaded jam, but before you can even breathe a sigh of relief your relief pitcher’s given up a long home run to your opponent’s best hitter. For those hours on Friday afternoon, especially on the West Coast, I block out everything else and am glad I hurried to finish my work earlier in the afternoon.
I realize, though, that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Fantasy baseball is the greatest game ever. Let the games begin.
Fantasize on,
Robert Yan
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