Anything you can do, I can do somewhat better

Story by Emily Gresbrink

I have a confession: Before this semester, I knew nothing about fantasy football. I knew it existed and that it was strangely cutthroat, but that’s about it.
It was a foreign land; a scary thing that only spawned from man-caves and bro-trains and the land of beer and buffalo wings. A man-dominated world, if you will.
When I took up my position as sports editor, I knew there would potentially be backlash. I’m a girl, I knew very little detail about sports (I could hold my own in a sports talk, but I couldn’t really spew out stats and names like most sports fantatics could) and the only fantasy I had really experienced in depth was Fantasyland in the Magic Kingdom, and one bout of fantasy baseball.
But I took the leap — I jumped headfirst into ESPN’s Fantasy Football 2011.
My draft experience was a nightmare. I cried – I literally shed tears. “There’s no crying in fantasy?” Please. Yes there is. Pass the Nutella and spoonfuls of it while I sob, watching all the good players go, leaving me with nothing to even care about in this life I call college.
I consulted a friend to help explain what the hell was happening – I didn’t know what all the letters and numbers meant. And once that happened, I sort of got the hang of things. And then magically … somehow, by the grace of sports gods … I was winning. ME, the rookie of life, WINNING.
And how good it felt! I’d see these seasoned veterans look at me dumbfounded when I whooped them by almost twice the amount of points. I began to tend to my teams more carefully than before and by week 13 I was sitting 8-4, more or less tied for first in my division – and let the records show I held first for the majority of the time.
I was on cloud nine. I was running past the first down line in a heat-of-the-moment game, moving things down the field towards success. I was a mean, mean girl. I was the Regina George of this league – but actually quite kind about things, mostly because I didn’t know what to say when I beat some of these guys who had been playing for years.
But now, a more serious time lingers: playoffs. This is where it matters. This is where my accidental victories, the lucky wins and (occasional!) purposeful drives come to a culminating finish.
What is the moral of this fantasy fable, my friends?
Easy — just go with the flow. If you get crappy players in a draft pick or people don’t want to trade, it’s called FREE AGENTS. Drop and add like crazy if you want, nobody will stop you. Tend to your team just a little each week and don’t worry about having the biggest or best names in the NFL. Also, do not be afraid to jump into fantasy sports.
It’s honestly been really fun – you may not know anything, but if I can do it, so can you.
And, while I have been very polite up until now, here’s my one shot of glory: All those fantasy columns from this semester so far … they think they can intimidate the G-Force? Please, have you SEEN our Spectator’s fantasy league standings? I’m pretty sure there’s a certain dapper young lady who is tied for first in standing, and was first for the majority of the 13 weeks.
Just saying.