It's Hard to Keep Caring About Fantasy Baseball

But I'm trying. For real. I want to care. I definitely need to have more ridiculous e-mail conversations debating the value of Mark DeRosa (who is a goddam fine ballplayer!!!).

But I just can't keep it going. After I won the league last year, and got that pewter trophy in the mail. Very unexpected. The trophy, I mean, but the feeling I had was unexpected, too. I felt like a loser. Like I now had to put this thing on the wall or display it somehow, so that all my friends could see how fucking awesome I am at fantasy baseball, a testameent to how little I do at work and how little I care about my wife and kids. (I don't even have a wife and fucking kids!!!) Like there was some other career I could have had telling everybody all the right moves on the diamond.

Fuck Joe Torre!!!

Actually, I really like the guy and hated to see him go. But nobody listens to me, even with my goddam trophy. (We won 108 fucking fantasy games!!!)

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((Yes, three goddam exclamation points.) I love parenthesis.)