Before I began to dabble in the dark arts of fantasy football, I had a practically romanticized view of it. I envisioned gloomy, smoke-filled rooms. Men with furled brows rubbing their temples while pouring over Iliad-sized stacks of papers, filled with stats, schedules, horoscopes, and Wonderlic scores. Hours of intense debate and negotiation about the minutiae of the game.
Basically, all the good parts of the old "Sportswriters on TV" program with Bill Gleason and Rick Telander.
Well, the folks in my 12-team fantasy league just don't have time for anything like that. They only have time for AutoDraft, which is about as romantic as a dinner at Wendy's and $20 bucks on top of the dresser at night's end.
My league starts anew every season. A clean slate — no keepers, no franchise players. The deck is reshuffled, and your only chance at drawing a good hand is through ranking the entire NFL so a computer can select your team for you.
To me, this takes a good amount of joy out of the process. You can't point and laugh at anyone when they pick Mike Vanderjagt in the second round. You can't pound your fist on the table in agony when the only two defenses left to select are Houston and San Francisco. You'll never have a chance to dodge a weak punch from a dude in a Dan Fouts throwback when you steal Phillip Rivers with the pick before his.
The only joy in AutoDraft is that you can go from worst-to-first in a hurry and, unlike in the NFL, you won't have to put up with Bill Parcells's menopause in order to do it. But AutoDraft teases you. It mocks you. If life was AutoDraft, you'd wake up beside Shakira one morning and Morganna the Kissing Bandit the next. (I don't think I want life to be AutoDraft.)
AutoDraft doesn't believe in fate or karma. AutoDraft doesn't care if your favorite player is still on the board. AutoDraft doesn't honor long-term contracts...
...or so I thought.
For the second straight season, my team "drafted" the ultimate fantasy football enigma: Mr. Michael Ron Mexico Vick, Atlanta Falcons. My team changed — it's gone from being called the FrenchKissingNamaths to DownGoesPennington. Vick hasn't — he's still a riddle wrapped in a conundrum wrapped in an anthology of black quarterback generalities.
Vick is rated 21st overall in my league and 11th among quarterbacks. Twelve QBs scored more fantasy points than Vick last season, but none ran for more yards or for more rushing touchdowns. Assuming Vick has a better passing season than he had last year — which is to assume his mechanics will be tighter and his receivers improve — his fantasy value could rise astronomically.
Yet I have about as much confidence in him as Warner Bros. has in another "Superman" sequel. He's boom or bust, a player that can win you a week or flop with a whimper. The kind of quarterback who can undue a great fantasy effort with a single pass to the wrong uniform or an ill-advised run into the chest of a D-lineman.
AutoDraft gave me Vick and Trent Green of Kansas City as my quarterbacks. I have no confidence in the Chiefs' offensive line or the potential for a high-scoring offense on a Herman Edwards team, so I'm not expecting much from Green this season. Yet compared to Vick...
I immediately went into general manager panic mode. I snagged Rivers off the waiver wire as my opponents slept by their laptops, giving me a third option at QB when the kid picks up where Drew Brees left off. I then shopped Vick and Green to anyone who would listen.
Yet, I had some pre-seller's remorse. What if this was the year that Vick puts it all together and sets fantasy football records for points scored every week by running and passing for four touchdowns a game?
What if Michael Vick actually becomes Michael Vick for once, before Vince Young does?
Before long, a trade offer rolled into my inbox. Vick and Kevin Jones — one of my running backs and nearly the frustrating mystery Vick is — for WR Reggie Wayne of the Colts and QB Mark Brunell of the Redskins.
Wayne, I love — Peyton's going to pass more than ever before, and Wayne's going to start seriously cutting into Marvin Harrison's numbers. Brunell hasn't looked good, but his receivers are outstanding and he's good for one long TD chuck to Santana Moss every once in a while.
Deal or no deal?
Deal, Howie Mandel.
I'm done with waiting for Vick to live up to the hype. I honestly don't know how the Falcons fans deal with this crap every season.
As the great '80s band Scandal once sang, "Goodbye to you." Happy trails, Michael Vick: you're someone else's conundrum now.
'Till AutoDraft reunites us next season, that is...
Greg Wyshynski is the Features Editor for SportsFan Magazine in Washington, DC, and the Senior Sports Editor for The Connection Newspapers of Northern Virginia. His book is "Glow Pucks and 10-Cent Beer: The 101 Worst Ideas in Sports History." His columns appear every Saturday on Sports Central. You can e-mail Greg at [email protected].
Leave a Comment