The Mia League

[DOUGHBOYS]

Nine years ago, 15 drafters entered a draft.
Draft Champions were still new at the time.
So new, they were still called 'slow drafts'.
Some of the drafters 'kind of' knew each other. Mostly, we had seen each others names on the Message Boards or participated in a previous draft with one another.

What started as just another draft became a draft that all those drafters would remember forever.
Because I was a bigmouth on these Message Boards, some of the drafters would leave phone numbers and ask me to call them when they were up.
Little did they know that I didn't have a cell phone. So, I would call them from a land line.
For those of you not familiar with a landline, just think of your phone as only working from the inside of your house.
Anyways, I wrote the numbers down and if somebody was up for a long time, I would give them a call.
This worked pretty well.

I got a call from Roger Martin. He was at the hospital. There was something wrong with his daughter.
He didn't know exactly what, but he knew it was serious and probably life threatening. He said that he hadn't had time to put his draft on auto, but that he would just auto the rest of the draft at least until he knew more information.
I brought up the subject of baseball players.
I figured if my six year old daughter was in surgery, I'd rather be thinking about the merits of Ryan Braun or Miguel Cabrera, not the impending life or death of a loved one.
We talked baseball for awhile and he said he had to go.
I told him he wasn't going on auto for the remainder of the draft.
That we would wait eight hours or another eight hours after that if need be.
Roger said, "Sure, Dan." An eyeroll in his voice.
He called later to say that Mia had brain surgery. Came out of it well. But would have to follow up with yet another surgery.

I got on chat and relayed to the other drafters what had happened in Roger's life.
Almost every drafter was a Father.
Fathers who felt for Roger's plight immediately.
We felt as if we were right there in the waiting room with Rog.
I would receive updates from Rog on the phone and relay that news to the other drafters. By now, the draft was secondary. We would take a lot of time drafting so that Rog would have more time to deal with real life before thinking about a 'slow draft'.
Ever the trooper, Rog would go home and put his next pick on Auto to facilitate the draft from his end.

Other events would alter other drafters lives and further slow down the draft as well.
There was a large hurricane that hit the East Coast.
One drafter was flooded in his house and drafted from another place two hours away.
Another drafter, Dan Semsel, had a goal of running a marathon in every state and was away for that. Did you reach that goal, Dan?
Another drafter had a wife have an accident and had to have achilles heel surgery.
Another had heart problems and was taken to a hospital himself.
But the main focus, of course, was Mia.

When Rog accessed chat and expressed thanks to us and that Mia was going to be alright, it was such a relief to all of us.
An outpouring as if Mia had had 15 real Dad's. So emotional.
The draft was one of the longest drafts on record.
There was not one 'zzzz' comment. Not one gripe. Not one bitch.
The length of the draft was secondary. I don't even remember who won.
It lasted more than a month. By todays standards, a life time.
Nobody cared.

After Mia was home, we received messages from Kathy, Roger's wife, expressing how much we and the NFBC meant to their family.
And also from Mia, thanking us for our prayers and well wishes. Nothing warms the heart like a "Thank you" from a six year old child.
They didn't know that it was us that should be thanking them.
They turned a meaningless event into a time of togetherness. I5 drafters entering a harmless slow draft came away feeling closer to 14 other people and we all felt like we had fostered a child for a brief time.

The 'Mia Draft' has been a yearly event since.
Some of the original members of that draft no longer participate. One drafter, Stan Kaye, has passed away.
Most have been on the Boards since and expressed it was a draft never to be forgotten.
They have been replaced by some who also know the history of the draft themselves.
A salute to those 15 drafters that were in that original league. You should be proud. I am.

Once again, it's that time of year for the Mia Draft.
Ironically, it will be a fast paced draft with a one hour clock. Maybe, in some way, we're trying to make up for the length of the first draft
We do not KDS.
Mia picks each of our names out of a hat to decide our draft slots.
A cute, happy, and healthy Mia, 15 years old, nine years added to her age since scaring the beejeezus out of Mom, Dad, and 14 drafters.
It is by far the cutest thing that ever hit these Boards!
Watch for that next week. It will be a treat.

[Baseball Furies]

Every time I read this each year, Dough, I still well up a bit. I consider myself one of the lucky originals who remain and whole-heartedly look forward to this draft more than any other DC that I'll do every year, and Lord knows I do a ton of them. Yes, this draft was very special to me, too, as I did the majority of it from a cold, dark house mostly via candlelight or flashlight with only sporadic cell service on what was an ancient phone at the time; maybe a Nokia or a Blackberry at best. I don't recall (more on this later).

As the years have passed, I don't recall all the original participants I was chatting with in the draft room and got to know very closely including you. I don't remember just how long the original draft took, or how many times you may have rang my phone or vice versa. And there weren't a lot texts sent back and forth back then like today. Believe it or not, guys mostly wanted to remain more anonymous and not give out their numbers for fear of data costs more than my incessant haranguing and harassing to make picks...and no cool emojis, funny gifs, and the like either. I can't tell you a single player that I picked, and like you, I can't tell you who won, placed, or showed when the season wrapped up that year.

But what I do remember is what's most important. The camaraderie, the stories of hardship and sacrifice, the destruction and devastation of Super Storm Sandy that had hit several of us who were participating here in East in NJ and NY especially, and the personal challenges and losses a bunch of us suffered during this unique draft experience that created a bond that I'm sure all of us who are still around competing in the NFBC to this day will never forget. I personally almost lost my entire house in a fire that had ignited overnight from the fireplace we were using to get some sort of heat for my young kids at the time. Luckily my next door neighbor was a retired fire department captain from the town, and he was able to summon the fire department that was already pushed to the brink to help within minutes somehow dodging downed power lines that virtually surrounded the house on every street. The damage was limited, and put the fire put out before the whole place went up. Thankfully the damage ended up being contained to one outside wall of the house and part of the deck. It could have been much worse, and other family and friends lost much more than this. So I considered myself lucky.

It was at that point I decided to pack everyone up the middle of the next night and use whatever gas I had remaining in the family SUV to try to escape the war zone/disaster area that not only the town but the entire state had become. It was a complete crapshoot doing so since there was not a working gas pump to be had until Connecticut, so if we ran out of gas, we would have been stranded for who knows how long. But it was a calculated risk since we had to get the hell out of Jersey to get somewhere with power, heat, phone service, hot food, etc. and of course someplace I was able to use my computer to draft! So escaping to Maine ended up working out...and I guess I was able to draft the rest of the way in exile from there.

But what I remember most was getting to know Roger Martin and all about his daughter Mia. Like Dan has noted, she was in the hospital and fighting for her life at the time when so much was unknown about the state of her condition with what ended up being a brain tumor. Thankfully it turned out to be benign after the surgeries, but no one knew this going in. All anyone knew especially Roger and his wife was that their daughter was having brain surgery, they were hoping for the best, and it could go either way. So after Dan told me what was up, I got Roger's number and gave him a call. It's probably taken me until writing this now to realize what motivated me to make this call to guy a barely knew at the time and only because of a fantasy baseball draft.

Six years earlier it was me in the hospital for three straight days keeping a bedside vigil for my youngest son who I had almost lost at birth due to a serious infection that unknowingly to us he had contracted. The first day after he was born, he was fine. The next day he was turning purple from the neck down and going into shock and non-responsive. I rushed him into the emergency room. Two nurses and a doctor, who just so happened to miraculously be a neonatology specialist on duty that night in the ER, immediately recognized what was happening and sprung into action. I knew immediately the prospects weren't good when they brought a priest in shortly afterwards asking if we wanted him baptized and about last rites. I didn't want to believe it, and no way in my mind was I going to accept losing my son that day. So I said, "You can baptize him if you want, but this kid has my grandfather's name and there's not a stronger man I ever knew. He's going to make it."

I found out later that he only had a 50/50 shot that day as the infection had affected his brain, but we had no idea to what extent and what the long term ramifications would be. The first 24 hours they said were critical that he stabilize. I didn't sleep that day after being up through the night before when he was delivered after many hours of labor...and I don't think I slept more than an hour two the next two days until he was out of the woods and he pulled through. I took home three weeks later from the NICU. So if anyone could relate to what Roger and his wife were going through, I guess it was me.

So I called, and we talked. Maybe I texted him a lot, too. And maybe we talked again while they waited. I was just trying to provide some moral support at the time based on my own experiences and what had worked for me when I was at the brink with my own kid's life in the balance several years earlier when all could have been lost. I offered words of encouragement and certainty. I don't know why, but when everyone else was doubting and worried about what the outcome would be with Mia, somehow I knew she was going to be fine. There wasn't a shred of doubt in my mind, and I wanted Roger and his wife to know that. I have always believed in the power of positive thinking and sending positive energy to someone when the need it. Call it prayer. Call it spiritual energy. Call it good vibes if you want. But in my mind it worked and thankfully Mia pulled through the surgery and was fine.

I guess I didn't realize what it meant to Roger and his wife Kathy at the time until we met up maybe the next year in Vegas and they wanted to thank me for my support. They were both so emotional. Kathy had no words, just tears of gratitude. I had no idea until that moment that a couple of phone calls and texts from another NFBC father had made such an impact. To this day, I will never forget it. And every picture Roger has sent me over the years as Mia has grown, I have kept; and then later some of the short video clips of her accomplishments as well. Her special cameo appearances in the draft room over the years...the videos of her draft order pulls from one of her dad's baseball caps...the personal texts from Mia herself...all priceless to me and will be cherished forever.

So Dough, I'm happy to carry the torch from here for as long as there is an NFBC...and for as long as I'm still kicking and participating in it...and for as long as Roger Martin gives it the go...there will be a Mia draft in his daughter's honor, and hopefully she'll be pulling our names from a hat for it for many, many more healthy and happy years to come...

[url]Every time I read this each year, Dough, I still well up a bit. I consider myself one of the lucky originals who remain and whole-heartedly look forward to this draft more than any other DC that I'll do every year, and Lord knows I do a ton of them. Yes, this draft was very special to me, too, as I did the majority of it from a cold, dark house mostly via candlelight or flashlight with only sporadic cell service on what was an ancient phone at the time; maybe a Nokia or a Blackberry at best. I don't recall (more on this later).

As the years have passed, I don't recall all the original participants I was chatting with in the draft room and got to know very closely including you. I don't remember just how long the original draft took, or how many times you may have rang my phone or vice versa. And there weren't a lot texts sent back and forth back then like today. Believe it or not, guys mostly wanted to remain more anonymous and not give out their numbers for fear of data costs more than my incessant haranguing and harassing to make picks...and no cool emojis, funny gifs, and the like either. I can't tell you a single player that I picked, and like you, I can't tell you who won, placed, or showed when the season wrapped up that year.

But what I do remember is what's most important. The camaraderie, the stories of hardship and sacrifice, the destruction and devastation of Super Storm Sandy that had hit several of us who were participating here in East in NJ and NY especially, and the personal challenges and losses a bunch of us suffered during this unique draft experience that created a bond that I'm sure all of us who are still around competing in the NFBC to this day will never forget. I personally almost lost my entire house in a fire that had ignited overnight from the fireplace we were using to get some sort of heat for my young kids at the time. Luckily my next door neighbor was a retired fire department captain from the town, and he was able to summon the fire department that was already pushed to the brink to help within minutes somehow dodging downed power lines that virtually surrounded the house on every street. The damage was limited, and put the fire put out before the whole place went up. Thankfully the damage ended up being contained to one outside wall of the house and part of the deck. It could have been much worse, and other family and friends lost much more than this. So I considered myself lucky.

It was at that point I decided to pack everyone up the middle of the next night and use whatever gas I had remaining in the family SUV to try to escape the war zone/disaster area that not only the town but the entire state had become. It was a complete crapshoot doing so since there was not a working gas pump to be had until Connecticut, so if we ran out of gas, we would have been stranded for who knows how long. But it was a calculated risk since we had to get the hell out of Jersey to get somewhere with power, heat, phone service, hot food, etc. and of course someplace I was able to use my computer to draft! So escaping to Maine ended up working out...and I guess I was able to draft the rest of the way in exile from there.

But what I remember most was getting to know Roger Martin and all about his daughter Mia. Like Dan has noted, she was in the hospital and fighting for her life at the time when so much was unknown about the state of her condition with what ended up being a brain tumor. Thankfully it turned out to be benign after the surgeries, but no one knew this going in. All anyone knew especially Roger and his wife was that their daughter was having brain surgery, they were hoping for the best, and it could go either way. So after Dan told me what was up, I got Roger's number and gave him a call. It's probably taken me until writing this now to realize what motivated me to make this call to guy a barely knew at the time and only because of a fantasy baseball draft.

Six years earlier it was me in the hospital for three straight days keeping a bedside vigil for my youngest son who I had almost lost at birth due to a serious infection that unknowingly to us he had contracted. The first day after he was born, he was fine. The next day he was turning purple from the neck down and going into shock and non-responsive. I rushed him into the emergency room. Two nurses and a doctor, who just so happened to miraculously be a neonatology specialist on duty that night in the ER, immediately recognized what was happening and sprung into action. I knew immediately the prospects weren't good when they brought a priest in shortly afterwards asking if we wanted him baptized and about last rites. I didn't want to believe it, and no way in my mind was I going to accept losing my son that day. So I said, "You can baptize him if you want, but this kid has my grandfather's name and there's not a stronger man I ever knew. He's going to make it."

I found out later that he only had a 50/50 shot that day as the infection had affected his brain, but we had no idea to what extent and what the long term ramifications would be. The first 24 hours they said were critical that he stabilize. I didn't sleep that day after being up through the night before when he was delivered after many hours of labor...and I don't think I slept more than an hour two the next two days until he was out of the woods and he pulled through. I took home three weeks later from the NICU. So if anyone could relate to what Roger and his wife were going through, I guess it was me.

So I called, and we talked. Maybe I texted him a lot, too. And maybe we talked again while they waited. I was just trying to provide some moral support at the time based on my own experiences and what had worked for me when I was at the brink with my own kid's life in the balance several years earlier when all could have been lost. I offered words of encouragement and certainty. I don't know why, but when everyone else was doubting and worried about what the outcome would be with Mia, somehow I knew she was going to be fine. There wasn't a shred of doubt in my mind, and I wanted Roger and his wife to know that. I have always believed in the power of positive thinking and sending positive energy to someone when the need it. Call it prayer. Call it spiritual energy. Call it good vibes if you want. But in my mind it worked and thankfully Mia pulled through the surgery and was fine.

I guess I didn't realize what it meant to Roger and his wife Kathy at the time until we met up maybe the next year in Vegas and they wanted to thank me for my support. They were both so emotional. Kathy had no words, just tears of gratitude. I had no idea until that moment that a couple of phone calls and texts from another NFBC father had made such an impact. To this day, I will never forget it. And every picture Roger has sent me over the years as Mia has grown, I have kept; and then later some of the short video clips of her accomplishments as well. Her special cameo appearances in the draft room over the years...the videos of her draft order pulls from one of her dad's baseball caps...the personal texts from Mia herself...all priceless to me and will be cherished forever.

So Dough, I'm happy to carry the torch from here for as long as there is an NFBC...and for as long as I'm still kicking and participating in it...and for as long as Roger Martin gives it the go...there will be a Mia draft in his daughter's honor, and hopefully she'll be pulling our names from a hat for it for many, many more healthy and happy years to come...


[url]Every time I read this each year, Dough, I still well up a bit. I consider myself one of the lucky originals who remain and whole-heartedly look forward to this draft more than any other DC that I'll do every year, and Lord knows I do a ton of them. Yes, this draft was very special to me, too, as I did the majority of it from a cold, dark house mostly via candlelight or flashlight with only sporadic cell service on what was an ancient phone at the time; maybe a Nokia or a Blackberry at best. I don't recall (more on this later).

As the years have passed, I don't recall all the original participants I was chatting with in the draft room and got to know very closely including you. I don't remember just how long the original draft took, or how many times you may have rang my phone or vice versa. And there weren't a lot texts sent back and forth back then like today. Believe it or not, guys mostly wanted to remain more anonymous and not give out their numbers for fear of data costs more than my incessant haranguing and harassing to make picks...and no cool emojis, funny gifs, and the like either. I can't tell you a single player that I picked, and like you, I can't tell you who won, placed, or showed when the season wrapped up that year.

But what I do remember is what's most important. The camaraderie, the stories of hardship and sacrifice, the destruction and devastation of Super Storm Sandy that had hit several of us who were participating here in East in NJ and NY especially, and the personal challenges and losses a bunch of us suffered during this unique draft experience that created a bond that I'm sure all of us who are still around competing in the NFBC to this day will never forget. I personally almost lost my entire house in a fire that had ignited overnight from the fireplace we were using to get some sort of heat for my young kids at the time. Luckily my next door neighbor was a retired fire department captain from the town, and he was able to summon the fire department that was already pushed to the brink to help within minutes somehow dodging downed power lines that virtually surrounded the house on every street. The damage was limited, and put the fire put out before the whole place went up. Thankfully the damage ended up being contained to one outside wall of the house and part of the deck. It could have been much worse, and other family and friends lost much more than this. So I considered myself lucky.

It was at that point I decided to pack everyone up the middle of the next night and use whatever gas I had remaining in the family SUV to try to escape the war zone/disaster area that not only the town but the entire state had become. It was a complete crapshoot doing so since there was not a working gas pump to be had until Connecticut, so if we ran out of gas, we would have been stranded for who knows how long. But it was a calculated risk since we had to get the hell out of Jersey to get somewhere with power, heat, phone service, hot food, etc. and of course someplace I was able to use my computer to draft! So escaping to Maine ended up working out...and I guess I was able to draft the rest of the way in exile from there.

But what I remember most was getting to know Roger Martin and all about his daughter Mia. Like Dan has noted, she was in the hospital and fighting for her life at the time when so much was unknown about the state of her condition with what ended up being a brain tumor. Thankfully it turned out to be benign after the surgeries, but no one knew this going in. All anyone knew especially Roger and his wife was that their daughter was having brain surgery, they were hoping for the best, and it could go either way. So after Dan told me what was up, I got Roger's number and gave him a call. It's probably taken me until writing this now to realize what motivated me to make this call to guy a barely knew at the time and only because of a fantasy baseball draft.

Six years earlier it was me in the hospital for three straight days keeping a bedside vigil for my youngest son who I had almost lost at birth due to a serious infection that unknowingly to us he had contracted. The first day after he was born, he was fine. The next day he was turning purple from the neck down and going into shock and non-responsive. I rushed him into the emergency room. Two nurses and a doctor, who just so happened to miraculously be a neonatology specialist on duty that night in the ER, immediately recognized what was happening and sprung into action. I knew immediately the prospects weren't good when they brought a priest in shortly afterwards asking if we wanted him baptized and about last rites. I didn't want to believe it, and no way in my mind was I going to accept losing my son that day. So I said, "You can baptize him if you want, but this kid has my grandfather's name and there's not a stronger man I ever knew. He's going to make it."

I found out later that he only had a 50/50 shot that day as the infection had affected his brain, but we had no idea to what extent and what the long term ramifications would be. The first 24 hours they said were critical that he stabilize. I didn't sleep that day after being up through the night before when he was delivered after many hours of labor...and I don't think I slept more than an hour two the next two days until he was out of the woods and he pulled through. I took home three weeks later from the NICU. So if anyone could relate to what Roger and his wife were going through, I guess it was me.

So I called, and we talked. Maybe I texted him a lot, too. And maybe we talked again while they waited. I was just trying to provide some moral support at the time based on my own experiences and what had worked for me when I was at the brink with my own kid's life in the balance several years earlier when all could have been lost. I offered words of encouragement and certainty. I don't know why, but when everyone else was doubting and worried about what the outcome would be with Mia, somehow I knew she was going to be fine. There wasn't a shred of doubt in my mind, and I wanted Roger and his wife to know that. I have always believed in the power of positive thinking and sending positive energy to someone when the need it. Call it prayer. Call it spiritual energy. Call it good vibes if you want. But in my mind it worked and thankfully Mia pulled through the surgery and was fine.

I guess I didn't realize what it meant to Roger and his wife Kathy at the time until we met up maybe the next year in Vegas and they wanted to thank me for my support. They were both so emotional. Kathy had no words, just tears of gratitude. I had no idea until that moment that a couple of phone calls and texts from another NFBC father had made such an impact. To this day, I will never forget it. And every picture Roger has sent me over the years as Mia has grown, I have kept; and then later some of the short video clips of her accomplishments as well. Her special cameo appearances in the draft room over the years...the videos of her draft order pulls from one of her dad's baseball caps...the personal texts from Mia herself...all priceless to me and will be cherished forever.

So Dough, I'm happy to carry the torch from here for as long as there is an NFBC...and for as long as I'm still kicking and participating in it...and for as long as Roger Martin gives it the go...there will be a Mia draft in his daughter's honor, and hopefully she'll be pulling our names from a hat for it for many, many more healthy and happy years to come...

P.S. I have a great pic of Mia I hope to share here, too, with Rog's okay.

[DOUGHBOYS]

Beautiful, Mike.
You certainly underscored the flood story to me at the time. I know the major concern was Mia, but you were really going through your own Hell as well.
It's hard to believe it has been nine years since that draft.
I believe the most poignant moment since was when Mia pulled a name out of the hat, smiled, looked at the camera, and said, "Daddy!" for Roger's pick. Somehow, that one word signaled to all of us that she was going to be alright.
Mike will be taking the reigns of the Mia Draft this year and from now on. I've been proud to organize it in the past and I know that it will be in great hands with Mikey at the helm.
I can't wait to see that little girl (Yes Mia, even at 15 and fully aware of what is going on in the world, you're still our little girl) read the names for the draft again. In times like these, be it social unrest, or a raging pandemic, we take our smiles when we can get them.
Each year since, Mia has provided us those smiles.

[Ultrarunner]

I’ve been here since the beginning and won’t be going anywhere. This is always an annual highlight. In another decade and change, Roger is going to have to explain to his son-in-law that Mia has a group of misty-eyed old men waiting for her to pick names out of a hat.