For a girl who use to do cartwheels in center field during softball games and braid her teammates hair, committing to play fantasy football with my boyfriend and his family and friends was a decision that didn’t come easy for me. For one, I really am not a big sports fan. I grew up in a house that was, for lack of a better word, obsessed with sports. Most of our family dinners consisted of congregating in the living room while the Seattle Seahawks or the Mariners (the first time Griffey Jr was around) blasted on our big late 1980’s the big screen TV.
I would pretend I was watching, trying desperately to fit in, longing every single minute that I was upstairs reading one of my RL Stine books or better yet, petting my cat. Eventually, I gave in, snuck away and once again, I would be lost next time a game was on. But to my credit, I have tried over the years. I can distinguish a few differences from various sports. I know what a pigskin is and what RBI means but honestly, that really is the extent of my sports knowledge. But, I love my boyfriend and I promised him I’d try to get into sports, at least football, considering the only way I will be spending Sunday afternoon with him from September to January is on the couch watching the game(s). And because he has endured many hours of my reality TV addiction, mainly, Real Housewives.
So here I go. I’m attempting to join in on the fun. I’m playing Fantasy Football. My brothers will be proud or at least give me credit for trying. So here is to the Tittsburg Feelers! May they come out a little ahead or at least not in last.