As I was listening to my traditional Friday morning pump up song, "Bawitdaba", by Robert "Kid Rock" Ritchie, I realized he was speaking to me. Not just the philosophical me, but the actual me.
....
All the crackheads, the critics, the cynics, and all my heroes at the Methodone clinic....
Here I am driving to work for the day, and Kid is calling me a hero, lil' ol me. After spending all of this year from April to October addicted to the crack that is fantasy baseball, I begrudgingly switched to the Methodone that is fantasy football. (For those of you that live your super soft white lives sheltered in Suburbia, USA and don't know what Methodone is, its a drug that is given to people who are addicted to more hard core drugs to help ween them off, although it is also addictive, its a little less destructive). As much as I said I hated fantasy football, and I still swear I do hate it (even though I whomped all y'alls asses and won the whole freakin thing), at least it filled the abyss of darkness that
crack fantasy baseball left when it slipped away for the winter.
I went from scoring a fix at Yahoo! Fantasy Sports 15 times a week during baseball season to a measly 3 times a week once I was given Methodone. One little toke Sunday morning, a one-hitter Sunday night, and a quick drag Tuesday morning and the edge was taken off for the whole week (I realize Methodone is not smoked, but I also grew up in Suburbia, USA and don't know much slang for taking pills. Pinching the powder? Tossing tabs? Crushing capsules?)(Sorry for the giant parenthetical phrase)(Now you have to follow your Suburbia math rules and multiply these three phrases)....Now back to the story.
I was off of the hard stuff and knew I hated it's replacement, but there was something I didn't know about the pharmaceutical Meth that was now a part of my life. As much as I longed for the sweet sensation that radiated from the tips of my toes to the ends of my incisors, fantasy football was somewhat occupying my addiction. Now after 4 months on the step down crank, I'm out cold turkey and really finding myself in dark places. Just the other night I woke up in a cold sweat all the while I felt like I was burning up. I needed a score and I needed it quick. I fought my urges for as long as I could, but eventually stumbled my way down to the corner to see if Mr. Yahoo! Fantasy had any goods to peddle. Through hazy eyes I looked down as he opened up the left side of his trench coat to see his stock of merchandise. Out of his toothless grin came his raspy pitch, "I can get you into an already in progress fantasy basketball league for a non-dominant handed HJ". As my brain began to race and process what kind of freak it takes to prefer a non-rhythmic HJ to the silky pleasures of a machine like paced HJ, I suddenly had a moment of clarity and realized I had fallen too deep. Way to deep. I immediately hit the little red circle to close out the page and the cold sweats reemerged.
A couple days have passed and for the moment, I'm clean, for the moment. Don't think for a second I don't often catch my mind wandering and imagining myself dancing through a field of bluebonnets hand in hand with a human sized draft guide. Just the other day, out of nowhere, I started imagining how awesome Howie Kendrick will be this year with the likes of fellow druggie Josh Hamilton in his lineup. Should I take Kendrick in the 5th round, maybe the 4th? Better make it the 2nd just to be safe. No Chris, snap out of it, stay strong. Keep your self clean and clear.
There is no doubt in my mind that when crack is back in season, I will be jumping on it like a starving man on a Christmas ham, but until then, yes Mr. Kid Rock, I will be your Enrique Iglesias.
