"Chase"ing a Championship: My Draft Journey
After losing hundreds of dollars, feasting for days on Bud Light and buffets, and surviving on 4-5 hours of sleep a night, we finally had our Fantasy Football Draft in Las Vegas at Caesars Palace. This was the culmination of 2 years of discussion and motivation, finally getting a number of the guys together in a suite in Vegas to cut up and have some fun.
Shizzlez, Josh, and Shaine showed off their newly acquired gym physique, holding each other accountable over the past year so that they might live a healthier and stronger lifestyle. Huy arrived ready to party as he always does, renting out the suite to ensure we had the perfect place to act a fool and let loose. Bryson arrived, a glutton for punishment, mentally prepared to suffer the consequences of losing the Toilet Bowl in the prior season. Kamana flew in overnight, securing a last minute flight, apparently even more of a masochist than Bryson. The rest called in, over FaceTime or Google Meets, at an early Hawai'i time so that they could join the festivities.
While the beginning of our visit was tame enough, mostly eating Korean BBQ and easy-going gambling at the casino, it was the calm before the storm. Each restaurant visited meant another condiment added to the wheel of shots. Each drink we took was another push to get creative with the liquor options. I walked away from the California Hotel with a few packets of hoisin sauce and shoyu. Breakfast meant we found some jelly and jam cups to bring back to the suite. Chick-fil-A wasn’t just a stop for tourist reasons, it was also to grab some polynesian sauce to go. The gross factor and excitement was building slowly.
Everyone arrived at the “War Room” a little hungover and a little worse for wear, no different than other in-person drafts we had in the past. But we knew the action would start fast. Beers were delivered before the first round at 10am and two bottles of whiskey sat on the glass center table where we all sat. An almost empty Buffalo Trace and unopened Jameson foreshadowed what this was going to become.
Bryson, being the biggest loser of last season, began his first punishment: IcyHot on the groin. His laughter would occasionally be interrupted by bouts of pain, a holler or hoot that reminded us how much fun it was to see someone burn their nuts. As his balls burned gloriously, we readied the Condiment Wheel. Jelly, jam, honey, mayo, sriracha, shoyu, relish, mustard, among other sauces were laid out neatly on the center of the table. I input the names of each on an app. Next we prepared the shots. Pink Whitney, Titos, Jaeger, 99 bananas, and more were mixed up in a plastic bag to be randomly pulled.
Bryson was to take a shot plus a condiment for each of his first four draft picks, and at 10AM, it was time for his shot. Everyone turned on their cameras and we spun the wheel for the condiment: hot mustard. Cheers go up all around and Bryson reaches into the plastic bag, pulling out a small shot bottle of Southern Comfort. “Yeaahhhhh!!!” The boys are ecstatic and the mustard slithers into the brown whiskey.
One cheers, a slice of pizza and beer at the ready, and we’re off. Bryson downs his first of four condiment shots as Shaine announces that Bryson is on the clock. Squatting, holding in his disgust, the owner of team Pray Lewis certainly sent up a prayer and chose Jonathan Taylor number one overall.
I was second, choosing Christian McCaffrey, and the draft went on. We would pause for each of his picks to spin the wheel, pull a shot from the bag, and promptly resume the timer the moment he finished the drink. No mercy from the commissioner. After the second shot was “easy” with jam as the condiment, BLukesRevenge - no longer Bryson at this point - started to choose the worst flavor combinations imaginable. Ketchup and gin, mayonnaise and 99 Bananas, it was hard to keep a calm stomach watching the floating lumps of sauce in my least favorite liquors. But it was BLukesRevenge, not me, that had to suffer. And he suffered.
The draft continued, with the FaceTime callers calling for more shots from the vacationers, and there wasn’t a sober moment between us. A few good picks, a few questionable calls, and a few enviable keepers later, we completed our fantasy football draft. While the draft was over, the drinking was not, and we have the autographed handprints on our stomachs and the nearly empty envelopes of cash to prove it. The debauchery and hijinx subsided by the next day, and we all returned home by Tuesday to settle into our regular lives. That is, until Sundays, when the group chat becomes another mill of sarcasm, sass, hope, and despair.
Immediately after the draft, I thought I had a superstar lineup with Chase, CMC, and Josh Allen at each position. Making a few moves early in the year, I felt strong, but my depth was shaky, as Gabe Davis, Christian Kirk, Diontae Johnson, and Curtis Samuel provided good, but not consistent, results. What’s more, the last 3 continued to produce fewer and fewer points each week. I needed to make a big move to secure my spot over Botohead’s “zero RB” strategy team.
My record at the time was 4-2, and I was concerned that I might not be able to keep up when it mattered most in the playoffs. So I reached out to HiloBayPackers and pulled the trigger moving 3 C-B level guys for Justin Jefferson. I knew he needed to avoid the toilet bowl, wanting to get several solid starters and was probably willing to part with 1 superstar. Losing a solid RB2 (Elliot) and WR2 (Gabe Davis) was tough, including a high potential keeper WR3 (Pickens), but I figured the payoff in point differential would be worth it for me if it meant a stronger championship push. What happened next truly shows how much luck is involved in fantasy football over everything else.
Chase is injured, reportedly out for 4-6 weeks and a potential IR candidate. Jefferson is a good replacement, but the whole point of my trade was to hold on to 2 WR1s. With CMC as my only quality RB, it looked like I might struggle the next several weeks. But then, McCaffrey gets traded to the 49ers, a team famous for its love of RBs and getting their best players the ball. What’s more, having McCaffrey’s handcuff paid off as he was immediately elevated to RB1 workhorse. My other starting RB - Jeff Wilson - suddenly became a handcuff again but with Elijah Mitchell returning soon, things looked bleak. But the trade deadline saveth me again, as Wilson gets traded to the Dolphins, reuniting with coach Mike McDaniels and looks to be in a timeshare with Raheem Mostert. Zeke gets hurt, Pollard becomes RB1, and now I still end up with the #1 QB, 2 RB1s, 2 WR1s, and a decent floor TE in Everett. Fantasy football is a lot of luck, let’s hope mine doesn’t run out.
