In the poignant words of George Andrews, "Whether drugs lead to illumination or degradation depends on the spirit in which one takes them."
I've fallen off the wagon. I'd stayed away from this particular drug for four years. I'd turned it down three times a year during each of those years, and each time it got harder to say no. This winter, I finally caved.
I'm playing fantasy sports again.
The first step towards recovery, according to Alcoholics Anonymous, is to admit you have a problem - to admit that you are powerless to control your addiction.
I realized this during my sophomore year of high school. I was in the midst of a heated three-team race for the top spot in my fantasy baseball league when I realized it was beginning to dominate my life. I tinkered with my lineups countless times during the day. Free blocks were no longer spent outside playing Wiffleball or studying for a big exam. Instead, I spent them in front of a computer with a couple of friends, debating the merits of starting Moises Alou over Jay Gibbons.
The fourth step on the AA list is to take a "searching and fearless moral inventory" of yourself.
Four years ago, I didn't like what I saw. I had become consumed by loyalty to my fantasy players to a point that I was beginning to question whether my loyalties lay with my beloved Red Sox or the "Beantown Bombers," my Yahoo brothers-in-arms. It didn't help that during that season, Pedro Martinez faced Roy Halladay, the ace of my fantasy team, somewhere in the vicinity of 25 times. I found myself rooting for outcomes like "Sox win but Halladay throws nine innings of one-run ball with 12 strikeouts."
The ninth step on the road to recovery is to make amends to people whom you have wronged through your addiction. With that in mind, I'd like to personally apologize to Pedro, wherever he is, for unfairly expecting him to shut out the Blue Jays on multiple occasions.
After this final season of obsession, I quit fantasy sports cold turkey. No more baseball, no more basketball, no more football - even though football only requires you to check your roster once a week. I decided that I would be a better person and a better fan if I simply gave up all together. Plus, I would no longer be bothered by impossibly difficult moral quandaries, like "Is it OK to draft Yankees?" and "If your starting quarterback is Peyton Manning, do you still root for Ty Law to intercept him four times?"
I spent the next four years happily rooting for my favorite sports team without any conflict of interest. Then, suddenly, everything changed. On a whim, I decided to play fantasy basketball this year.
On Tuesday night, the Cavaliers played the Celtics, and I wished aloud - on multiple occasions - for Zydrunas Ilgauskas to have a huge game, but for the Celtics to win. I got the first wish - but lost the second in overtime.
Am I allowed to be happy in a situation like this? Or should I root for KG to humiliate Big Z every time he touches the ball?
I began this column with a quote; one that I think makes the answer perfectly clear. If you think about this stuff while playing fantasy sports, you're bound to sink to the emotional depths that I have. But if you just enjoy it, it's a pretty great time-waster.
In the immortal (and slightly altered) words of Hunter S. Thompson...
"I wouldn't recommend sex, drugs, insanity or fantasy sports for everyone, but they've certainly worked for me."
Will Herberich is a sophomore who has not yet declared a major. He can be reached at William.Herberich@tufts.edu.
