Studying for my fantasy baseball draft, which is next Saturday. This is just like being back in school, yet nominally more interesting. But just nominally. I've written about this before, but I wanted to explain what I mean by "studying."
Unlike some of the other people in my league, I don't really follow baseball in the off-season, so I don't have the quick and easy knowledge they do. So when the draft approaches, I have to study. I'm in an NL-only league, which limits the number of players available, which means you have to know everybody. You have to know who's going to do well this year, who's going to suck, who's going to help you out in which categories, who's overrated, who's underrated. Who might get traded, who's injured, who could win Rookie of the Year but isn't even out of the minors yet.
It's a lot. And I haven't even thought about baseball in five months. So I've been reading websites, hoping that the more I read these names over and over again, the more they'll start to sink in. So far it isn't working yet -- and I haven't even gotten to outfielders and pitchers -- but, maybe if I sleep with a fantasy baseball magazine under my pillow? Or fall asleep with ESPN's fantasy podcast playing on my iPod? Then, after I've read it all, I'm going back and making a spreadsheet of all the players, with stats and notes, highlighting which players I should try to get. Well, that's what I always mean to do, anyway. I never really have time. I end up with a spreadsheet that has, like three first basemen and a pitcher on it.
I know you're thinking, Jesus, who cares? Way to go, geek! But it's a competitive league, and I CANNOT show up to my draft unprepared. There is this one guy in the league who always shows up unprepared (perhaps not coincidentally, he comes in last every year). For some reason he always ends up sitting next to me, and "borrows" all the magazines and cheat sheets that I've brought. This pisses me off. Those things cost $7 each! Not cool! Reminds me of my friend Megan in high school who used to call me up and say, "So what'd you get for number 6? How about number 10? What about number 11?" This year, I have resolved: no magazines, no paper whatsoever. Sink or swim on your own, bub.
I always get super nervous about draft day, and afterward I always feel slightly ill. Pretty much exactly the way I used to feel taking tests in school. We do it auction-style, which means someone calls out the name of a player, and everyone bids until somebody "wins" that player. You get $260 to start with, and you draft until everyone has all the spots on their roster filled. You know the scene in Knocked Up, where Leslie Mann catches Paul Rudd in the middle of his draft? It's like that, except we don't have a big white board.
But here's where it gets interesting and psychological-experiment-ish. The marquis players always go for a lot of money, like $40 or more. And you have to spend money to get the good players, obviously ... except I can never bring myself to do it. I always freak out when the bidding gets too high, and I drop out, thinking that I need to save my money for other things. I am careful, only buying bargains -- picking up players who go for less than they're probably worth. And then, when it gets to the end, I have no stars and a ton of money left over, and I end up paying $14 for some scrub who isn't even going to play this season, because I have one spot to fill and all that money. This happens EVERY SINGLE YEAR. And I think, god, what an idiot I am. Why didn't I spend the money on players I really wanted, the ones who were worth it?
And the thing is, this pretty much mirrors my spending habits in real life. I have had the same crappy, breaking-down IKEA furniture for over a decade. I don't buy clothes, and when I do, I buy them at H&M and feel like I shouldn't spend more than $10 on a shirt. I rarely go on vacation. I still rent my apartment. Buying expensive stuff makes me nervous, and I don't do it, even when I have the money.
But that's all going to change, you hear me? This year, I am going outside my comfort zone and spending like I'm white trash and I just won the lottery. I will get Albert Pujols no matter what it costs me. For those of you who don't follow baseball, let me put it in terms you might understand: In the world of first basemen, Pujols is a Lamborghini, and James Loney is a Honda Civic. Last year, I had a Civic. In 2009 -- recession be damned! -- I'm going for the Lamborghini.
Well, it's a nice theory, anyway. We'll see how it goes.