The Last Week
Posted: Thu Sep 29, 2016 6:16 am
This will be a long post. I apologize in advance. Hopefully, this will be something that others can relate to, or at least get a chuckle out of, and not come across as too self-indulgent (although I fear that it will).
I'm in the office early this morning. For some reason, I woke up early and couldn't fall back to sleep.
Actually, that's a lie. I know exactly why I woke up early and couldn't fall back to sleep. They are two separate reasons.
I woke up early because, despite pushing myself to stay awake until a little past midnight, I went to sleep last night not knowing the outcome of several West Coast games. This "void" haunts me even as I sleep. I've been waking up early most days over the last week or two. I couldn't fall back to sleep because I was too annoyed. Despite the fact that the Angels beat the A's 8-6 last night, I discovered that J.C. Ramirez - and not Andrew Bailey - got the save. What the fuck? A quick Google search. Andrew Bailey is not hurt. He did not pitch the night before. Yet, for some reason, Mike Scioscia decided last night would be a good time to switch closers. Arrrgh!
See, I'm way too "into" my fantasy baseball teams this season, and it's probably not healthy. I'm usually a glass-half-full guy. My wife tells me I often see people and life in general with rose-colored glasses. Yet, even though I'm pleased to see that Khris Davis did homer last night, I'm too pissed about Andrew Bailey not getting the save to fall back to sleep easily. Two overnight developments. One good for me, one bad. Here, the bad outweighs the good. Definitely in a glass-half-empty mood.
Digression #1: I hate Mike Scioscia. He seems like one of those guys that thinks he is always the smartest guy in the room. I just looked up his stats on Baseball Reference. They list him as 6' 2" and 200 pounds. Ha! If he's 200 pounds, I'm Mike Trout. See? I'm bitter this morning. Meanwhile, Mike Scioscia hasn't won a playoff game since 2009. Including this year, the Angels have made the play-offs once in the last seven years (2014) and they were swept in the first round that year. I bet other managers who have gotten fired far more quickly hate Mike Scioscia, too.
Anyway, this fantasy baseball season truly has been a grind. I have 14 NFBC teams (although, thankfully, only four were in leagues with FAAB.) Don't get me wrong; I love it. But, man, I'm looking forward to the end of the season. They say that season-long fantasy baseball is a marathon and I feel like I am down the home stretch and totally out of gas.
Digression #2: So, Greg includes me on a mass e-mail looking for participants in the Post-Season Contest. This feels kind of like asking a marathon runner approaching the end of the race if he wants to go on a quick jog as soon as he crosses the finish line. Still, I love the NFBC and hope the new format is a success even though I'm not a big fan of points-based leagues. Thus, I buy a team. I say to myself that I don't care how I do and that I just want to relax and enjoy the playoffs as a baseball fan, but I suspect that come Monday, I'll spend an inordinate amount of time making and tinkering with my starting lineup.
It just seems that, like real baseball, everything is magnified during the last week of the season. I know that this week's stats count the same as those in Week 1, but, man, things sure do feel different. While most of the leagues I've entered already have been decided, for better or worse, I still have two teams whose eventual outcomes I care deeply about. Lineup decisions that used to take a minute now torture me for much longer periods of time. Last Sunday, I probably spent 20 minutes debating with myself whether to start Ariel Miranda or Tyler Thornburg on one team. (I went with Miranda; I'll know tonight whether that was a good decision or I'm an over-thinking moron.) Even after torturing myself over that decision on Sunday, I probably flipped them in and out of my lineup three or four times on Monday.
My wife tells me not to care so much. She thinks I should just relax and enjoy the season and whatever success I've had. Deep down, I know she's probably right. I'm having a good year, and I will enjoy my success, but not until next week after everything has been decided. I try to explain why, after being a big-but-still-somewhat-normal baseball and fantasy baseball fan all season, I'm suddenly very tense and in need of watching every game. I might as well have been speaking Mandarin.
Digression #3: My wife - God bless her, she's a saint - knows I'm a sports nut. We've been together 31 years and married for 27. She knows me better than I know myself. I once kicked her during a tense Jets game. It was an accident. We were in college. The Jets were playing their rivals, the Miami Dolphins, and Dan Marino and Ken O'Brien were running up and down the field. The Jets wound up winning 51-45 in overtime. At one point in the game, I was sitting and watching the TV intently, and she made the mistake of sitting on the floor right in front of my chair; hence, the accidental kick when the Dolphins scored at some point during the game. It still amazes her that I can remember the score of that game and other sports-related factoids, yet I can't seem to remember to pickup milk on the way home from work even when she calls to remind me. I think it's because my brain can only hold so much information, and that when I prioritize, picking up the milk simply cannot expunge more important stuff.
Anyway, I try to explain to my wife the closeness of certain leagues/races and also mention the money involved. She tries to understand, but clearly doesn't. Yes, winning and the money are nice, but to her, not a big deal. When it comes to sports and the like, she doesn't have a competitive bone in her body. Me, I'm a competitive bastard. I like to win. I never let the kids beat me in Monopoly. If they were going to win, they'd have to earn it. My wife? She hates monopoly. She thinks I'm "over-competitive" if I make people pay the full amount when they land on my property with a hotel on it. She begrudgingly accepts, but does not understand, the depth of my desire to win.
Digression #4: Cue Herm Edwards: "You ... play ... to ... win ... the ... game." The man's a genius. A mediocre football coach, but a genius nonetheless. The essence of sports in six short words.
My wife also says nonsensical things like: "Why don't you just turn the TV off and read a book? You know you can't impact the outcome of the games." Silly woman. Of course I can. You change channels or leave the room at the wrong time, bad things can and do happen. In real life, I'm not at all superstitious. When it comes to sports, I am. I recall having a pitcher starting a baseball game. Things are going OK. Then I hear:
Announcer: "[Insert pitcher's name] has been on quite a roll lately. He hasn't given up a home run in X innings."
Me: "Wait. What? Great! Why don't you shut the fuck ...
TV: "Crack."
Announcer: "Boy, [insert hitter's name] got hold of that one ...."
Me: ... up."
The announcer immediately goes almost to the head of my personal list of most annoying baseball announcers, right behind Tim McCarver. (It would take many more gaffes like the one above to pass Timmy on my list.)
Thus, I find myself second-guessing every lineup decision I make, and watching more baseball than ever. At the same time, this week has been: exciting, frustrating, exhilarating, depressing, nerve-wracking, awesome, tense, fun, and exhausting. I wouldn't have it any other way, but part of me can't wait for it to end. I'm so looking forward to next week, when I really can just sit back and watch baseball with nothing, or very little, on the line. It will be good to relax for a change. On the other hand, I do have that first 50-round e-mail draft coming up. Some folks already are preparing for drafts. Me? I haven't done anything about next year yet. I'm so unprepared for drafting for next season. Maybe I'll start mapping some things out while watching the games next week ....
Mike
I'm in the office early this morning. For some reason, I woke up early and couldn't fall back to sleep.
Actually, that's a lie. I know exactly why I woke up early and couldn't fall back to sleep. They are two separate reasons.
I woke up early because, despite pushing myself to stay awake until a little past midnight, I went to sleep last night not knowing the outcome of several West Coast games. This "void" haunts me even as I sleep. I've been waking up early most days over the last week or two. I couldn't fall back to sleep because I was too annoyed. Despite the fact that the Angels beat the A's 8-6 last night, I discovered that J.C. Ramirez - and not Andrew Bailey - got the save. What the fuck? A quick Google search. Andrew Bailey is not hurt. He did not pitch the night before. Yet, for some reason, Mike Scioscia decided last night would be a good time to switch closers. Arrrgh!
See, I'm way too "into" my fantasy baseball teams this season, and it's probably not healthy. I'm usually a glass-half-full guy. My wife tells me I often see people and life in general with rose-colored glasses. Yet, even though I'm pleased to see that Khris Davis did homer last night, I'm too pissed about Andrew Bailey not getting the save to fall back to sleep easily. Two overnight developments. One good for me, one bad. Here, the bad outweighs the good. Definitely in a glass-half-empty mood.
Digression #1: I hate Mike Scioscia. He seems like one of those guys that thinks he is always the smartest guy in the room. I just looked up his stats on Baseball Reference. They list him as 6' 2" and 200 pounds. Ha! If he's 200 pounds, I'm Mike Trout. See? I'm bitter this morning. Meanwhile, Mike Scioscia hasn't won a playoff game since 2009. Including this year, the Angels have made the play-offs once in the last seven years (2014) and they were swept in the first round that year. I bet other managers who have gotten fired far more quickly hate Mike Scioscia, too.
Anyway, this fantasy baseball season truly has been a grind. I have 14 NFBC teams (although, thankfully, only four were in leagues with FAAB.) Don't get me wrong; I love it. But, man, I'm looking forward to the end of the season. They say that season-long fantasy baseball is a marathon and I feel like I am down the home stretch and totally out of gas.
Digression #2: So, Greg includes me on a mass e-mail looking for participants in the Post-Season Contest. This feels kind of like asking a marathon runner approaching the end of the race if he wants to go on a quick jog as soon as he crosses the finish line. Still, I love the NFBC and hope the new format is a success even though I'm not a big fan of points-based leagues. Thus, I buy a team. I say to myself that I don't care how I do and that I just want to relax and enjoy the playoffs as a baseball fan, but I suspect that come Monday, I'll spend an inordinate amount of time making and tinkering with my starting lineup.
It just seems that, like real baseball, everything is magnified during the last week of the season. I know that this week's stats count the same as those in Week 1, but, man, things sure do feel different. While most of the leagues I've entered already have been decided, for better or worse, I still have two teams whose eventual outcomes I care deeply about. Lineup decisions that used to take a minute now torture me for much longer periods of time. Last Sunday, I probably spent 20 minutes debating with myself whether to start Ariel Miranda or Tyler Thornburg on one team. (I went with Miranda; I'll know tonight whether that was a good decision or I'm an over-thinking moron.) Even after torturing myself over that decision on Sunday, I probably flipped them in and out of my lineup three or four times on Monday.
My wife tells me not to care so much. She thinks I should just relax and enjoy the season and whatever success I've had. Deep down, I know she's probably right. I'm having a good year, and I will enjoy my success, but not until next week after everything has been decided. I try to explain why, after being a big-but-still-somewhat-normal baseball and fantasy baseball fan all season, I'm suddenly very tense and in need of watching every game. I might as well have been speaking Mandarin.
Digression #3: My wife - God bless her, she's a saint - knows I'm a sports nut. We've been together 31 years and married for 27. She knows me better than I know myself. I once kicked her during a tense Jets game. It was an accident. We were in college. The Jets were playing their rivals, the Miami Dolphins, and Dan Marino and Ken O'Brien were running up and down the field. The Jets wound up winning 51-45 in overtime. At one point in the game, I was sitting and watching the TV intently, and she made the mistake of sitting on the floor right in front of my chair; hence, the accidental kick when the Dolphins scored at some point during the game. It still amazes her that I can remember the score of that game and other sports-related factoids, yet I can't seem to remember to pickup milk on the way home from work even when she calls to remind me. I think it's because my brain can only hold so much information, and that when I prioritize, picking up the milk simply cannot expunge more important stuff.
Anyway, I try to explain to my wife the closeness of certain leagues/races and also mention the money involved. She tries to understand, but clearly doesn't. Yes, winning and the money are nice, but to her, not a big deal. When it comes to sports and the like, she doesn't have a competitive bone in her body. Me, I'm a competitive bastard. I like to win. I never let the kids beat me in Monopoly. If they were going to win, they'd have to earn it. My wife? She hates monopoly. She thinks I'm "over-competitive" if I make people pay the full amount when they land on my property with a hotel on it. She begrudgingly accepts, but does not understand, the depth of my desire to win.
Digression #4: Cue Herm Edwards: "You ... play ... to ... win ... the ... game." The man's a genius. A mediocre football coach, but a genius nonetheless. The essence of sports in six short words.
My wife also says nonsensical things like: "Why don't you just turn the TV off and read a book? You know you can't impact the outcome of the games." Silly woman. Of course I can. You change channels or leave the room at the wrong time, bad things can and do happen. In real life, I'm not at all superstitious. When it comes to sports, I am. I recall having a pitcher starting a baseball game. Things are going OK. Then I hear:
Announcer: "[Insert pitcher's name] has been on quite a roll lately. He hasn't given up a home run in X innings."
Me: "Wait. What? Great! Why don't you shut the fuck ...
TV: "Crack."
Announcer: "Boy, [insert hitter's name] got hold of that one ...."
Me: ... up."
The announcer immediately goes almost to the head of my personal list of most annoying baseball announcers, right behind Tim McCarver. (It would take many more gaffes like the one above to pass Timmy on my list.)
Thus, I find myself second-guessing every lineup decision I make, and watching more baseball than ever. At the same time, this week has been: exciting, frustrating, exhilarating, depressing, nerve-wracking, awesome, tense, fun, and exhausting. I wouldn't have it any other way, but part of me can't wait for it to end. I'm so looking forward to next week, when I really can just sit back and watch baseball with nothing, or very little, on the line. It will be good to relax for a change. On the other hand, I do have that first 50-round e-mail draft coming up. Some folks already are preparing for drafts. Me? I haven't done anything about next year yet. I'm so unprepared for drafting for next season. Maybe I'll start mapping some things out while watching the games next week ....
Mike