(This is a fairly mean-spirited essay; but writing it worked as therapy that I needed to deal with a fairly difficult situation.)

Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT . . . UP!

But of course you won't. You will haunt offices across the country with your with talk of the foolishness of "Murph's" latest acquisition. You will mock fallen former semi-stars like Kordell Stewart even though after he couldn't perform anymore, he was still better than 99.999% of the general population at leading an NFL team, while your every non-video-playing move is awkward, and the only time you run is to the fridge. You will pepper your geekey pompous speech with lame humor based almost solely on the simplest and basest form of humor: sarcasm. The rest of your jokes will be mean spirited attacks of athletes who are physically ugly, drunks, or the victims of shootings. You will not shut up, because you suck. Or as you would say, "Yeah, those fantasy geeks are totally cool . . . uhhhh, YEAH!"

Of course, not everyone associated with a fantasy league is a dork. Many of my friends partake in conversations that include lines like, "Alge Crumpler fucked me last week." And yes, I did hear two talking about fantasy football at a wake once, but that was to break an uncomfortable silence, and the fact of the matter is, they generally talk about other things. Fantasy geeks, on the other hand, do talk about things other than sports, but when they do, it's uncomfortable for them. They get fidgety, and soon resort back to jokes with punch-lines like, "Well, all he does is catch touchdowns!" (If you don't know the reference, consider it a sign that you may not have a fantasy problem.)

But why should I let any of that bother me? Well, mostly because I used to sit next to two HIGHLY active fantasy players at my last job, and it began to make me short-tempered and mean. But also because fantasy leagues diminish sports. It turns a passionately played football game into a 20 sided die dungeons and dragons roll, and it turns the awe inspiring play of Michael Vick into a sword plus three or a spell of many wonders. Further, it breaks everything down into raw numbers, which is in no way the complete picture when it comes to winning any sort of team game. And besides the legitimacy or accuracy of their accounting practices, keeping stats like that is failing to see the forest for the trees. It's like William Wordsworth said, "We murder to dissect." Or maybe it isn't. Maybe it's more like what Coleridge said: "Man, you're a fucking dork. Now pass the laudanum."

But sadly, fantasy sports are here to stay, and will continue to grow. There's no stopping them. First of all, there are no limits to the number of dorks out there. Secondly, the internet has made keeping track of "that drunk" Griese's passing yards way too easy. Third of all, they are, I admit, a healthy way for countless cubicle jockeys to get through another soul crushing day. And finally, because fantasy sports are the best thing to happen to the 20-point blow-out since compulsive gambling and the point spread, they will be constantly fostered by the likes of the NFL, ESPN, FOX, ABC, and so on and so on.

Where does that leave you and me, gentle sports fans? Sadly, it finds each of us at one of our respective friend's house, listening to him watch the Panthers lump up on the Jaguars in the forth quarter, as he begs the screen for Delhomme to get one more touchdown. Yeah that sounds like a reeeally good time. Uhhh, yeah!