History repeats itself, I hope.

I was told years and years ago that I wasn’t “allowed” to be in Whitey’s fantasy football league. The good ol’ boys had been a crew forever, and no girls allowed. Most of the dozen-ish guys were bartenders, servers or restaurant owners, and they had a pretty tight crew involved in this money game.

When we first moved in together, Whitey was a bartender in Bend. He’d get home at about 3 or 4 in the morning, and I’d be up by 6:30 to get ready for my corporate niner to five job. So on Sundays, by the time he woke up, I had already made his trades and responded to the waivers so that they would be done before kickoff at 10 a.m. He’d wake up at noon, and by then I had already set his lineup and made trades.

He won the year that I had taken over his team.

Afterward, he admitted to the downtown league that his (ewwwwww) wife had worked his team most of the year, and they should maybe consider allowing me to be in the league.

I’m not just a girl. I actually like football.

My first year I placed 4th — Notice that Whitey is named The Lumber Co. and as a tribute, I named my team Lovin’ Lumber.




Not bad. But I don’t ever play to lose.

Last year? Light a cigar, my friends, because I am on TOP!

I dominate. I love stats. I love trades. I love this game.

Tomorrow night is our fantasy football draft party. It’s not a typical party; it’s pretty serious. The tequila bottle isn’t opened until at least the fifth round.

I’m glad to be back.



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