Looking Back at Last Weekend

I’ve been in a fantasy football league with my friends from highschool for the past 9 years. Back in January a few of my friends decided that we should get together for a weekend in late August for our draft. The thought was, if we start this fantasy football guy’s weekend tradition now, in 10 years when we’re married with kids we can tell our wives that it’s something that we’ve always done and that will make it harder for them to prevent us from going. Also, a few of us have moved away from the city of hopes and dreams (Syracuse) so it would be nice to get together for a weekend to catch up, play golf, etc. Thankfully my friends had the foresight to plan this weekend back in January because it gave me a chance to request the weekend off from work (I work on weekends). Once we decided on the weekend we then had to decide on where to go. There was talk of Vegas, Florida, and Arizona, but low and behold we ended up in Ocean City, NJ because our friend Browny’s parents have a summer house there. Clutch not to have to pay for an airline ticket and a hotel.

As part of the weekend, my buddy Alex, who lives in Baltimore, started looking for golf courses in the area that we could play. It should be noted that Alex and Browny really championed the whole fantasy weekend idea. Now Alex, who works for M&T Bank, also runs a few sports websites in his free time. One of them is a sports handicapping site and for the life of me I can’t figure out why anyone would pay money to get Alex’s picks, especially because he occasionally asks me who I like in certain games, but apparently the site is profitable. The other site is more of a sports information, blog type deal. Now what you have to understand about Alex is that he is probably the most persuasive kid in America. I mean, he could probably convince a prostitute to pay him for sex. Okay, maybe not, but the kid is incredibly talented. He called up this real nice course in Ocean City (the #3 ranked course in NJ) and told them that he has this website and that he was going to be in the area in late August and would love to write a feature on the course if they gave him and his friends a discount on the greens fees. The course usually costs about $100 to play on a Friday morning, but they agreed to let us play for $25 each. They schedule our tee time for 8:20 a.m.

In the weeks leading up to the Ocean City weekend, Alex sent me a number of emails asking if I’d be interested in helping him write the feature on the course. There was no way I could say no after he saved me $75 so we tossed a few ideas back and forth and finally decided on a retrospective diary. I know ESPN.com’s Bill Simmons just unveiled a retrospective diary about his fantasy football draft weekend with his friends in Vegas, but that had no bearing on this post. I have the emails to prove it. I won’t get into what happened during our draft because it would take too long, but let’s just say there was an awkward moment involving girlfriends and blowjobs.

So last Wednesday I find out that my friends aren’t getting to Browny’s Ocean City house until 11 p.m. on Thursday and I have to make it there at some point because of our early tee time. It just so happens that Thursday is my cousin’s birthday so instead of sitting around in Hartford all day (which is what I usually do) I decide to meet him in NYC for dinner with his parents and girlfriend. I drive to my cousin’s apartment in Hoboken, NJ (my halfway point on the long trek to Ocean City) and take the PATH into the city from there. This is what happened from that point until the end of our golf round on Friday.

6:01- After circling the block five times I finally park my car right in front of my cousin’s apartment. Thankfully I didn’t have to parallel park, or else I might have been there all night.

6:03- My cousin calls to check on my status. It strikes me that on a day that I should be going out of my way to get in contact with him, he has IMed, texted, and called me. All I did was write a message on his Facebook wall. So much for being the best man at his wedding....

6:06- I creepily get changed while still in the driver’s seat of my car.

6:35- I get off the subway at 23rd and 6th. The restaurant is located on 22nd and 3rd, but I, of course, have no clue which direction that is. I follow my instincts and make a right.

6:39- After walking down what seems like the longest city block of all time I see a street sign that says, “7th Street.” Fuck!! I had gone in the wrong direction. Is it just me, or should there be signs when you exit the subway that tell you which direction to walk?

6:40- Instead of stopping in my tracks and turning around, I avoid the embarassment and casually turn onto 7th and then take the next street, which thankfully turns out to be 22nd, back in the right direction.

6:47- I finally meet my cousin on a street corner. He tells me that his parents are already in the restaurant waiting for us.

6:52- We meet up with my cousin’s girlfriend. I’m sweating profusely. She must think I just ran the NYC marathon. God bless her soul, she hugs me hello anyway.

7:02- We have an awkward run in with a girl we all knew in college. My cousin’s girlfriend does most of the talking, while me, my cousin, and this girl’s boyfriend just stand there waiting for the conversation to end.

7:07- We enter the Irish pub and although I’ve never been there, I feel like I’m in Ireland. For some reason there’s sawdust all over the floor. Without missing a beat, my uncle orders me a beer, a Guinness of course.

7:22- Our waiter, who has a thick Irish brogue, gives me a death stare after I order my corned beef sandwich on white instead of the traditional rye. What can I say? I’m only 50% Irish.

7:36- Round 2 of Guinness for my uncle, cousin, and me.

7:55- Our waiter tells us that he’s a 64 year old great-grandfather. I immediately start doing the math in my head and conclude that either his daughter or granddaughter must have given birth around the age of 12. Why was he so forthright with this information?

8:08- Our waiter brings over a bottle of Jameson and pours each of us a shot.

8:08:30- I take a whiff of my shot. Bad idea. My cousin rips his.

8:09- I man up and slam mine. I feel a slight warming sensation go through my body. A few new hairs sprout on my chest. Thankfully my corned beef sandwich stays down.

8:17- My Uncle asks if I want another Guinness. Can’t say no, right?

9:40- My cousin, his girlfriend, and I make it back to Hoboken and decide to meet a bunch of our friends at a non-descript bar for a drink to celebrate my cousin’s birthday.

10:15- I leave the bar because I still have a 2 and half hour drive ahead of me.

10:18- New York Yankees pitcher Joba Chamberlain walks into the bar that I had just left. My cousin and his girlfriend, who like Joba is from Nebraska, talk to Joba for a solid 20-25 minutes. If I was there I would have asked him either why he wears his hat with a flat brim or why the Yankees are babying him.

10:30- I’m lost and driving through Journal Square and Jersey City. Not nice neighborhoods.

11:20- I finally make it to the Garden State Parkway. Only 90 miles to go.

12:18- I go through another toll where I’m required to throw exactly $1 in change into a bin before I can proceed. I’m running low on quarters and have to dig for five dimes.

12:48- I finally make it to Browny’s house and all of my friends are sitting around the TV watching the Syracuse v. UConn 6 OT from this year’s Big East Tournament. I’m not surprised at all.

1:10- The four of us golfing at the crack of dawn the next day decide on teams. It’s Alex and Mikey vs. Hermo and me.

1:45- We finally all decide to go to sleep. I have been assigned to sleep in the master bedroom with Browny. Although the bathroom has ‘his’ and ‘her’ sinks, we take turns.

1:58- I think we are just going right to sleep because I have to wake up in 5 hours, but Browny and I start up a conversation. Somehow we end up playing a fascinating game. One of us would say the name of someone that we went to high school with and the other would have to say what they thought that person was doing at that exact moment. For example, I said Andy Whackel. Browny then said that on Thursday night at 2 a.m. the Whack Attack was in his parents basement, 7 red bulls deep, playing a version of Halo that hasn’t been released yet.

2:35- The conversation eventually dwindles down and I get some shut eye for the big golf match in the morning.

6:58- I get a text from Mikey that reads, “Now on the tee, from Fairfield, CT….” Even though I live in Hartford, I still appreciate his enthusiasm.

7:00- My alarm goes off. I notice Browny is no longer in the enormous bed. Why he's up that early, I dont know. Maybe he's just really excited for our fantasy draft that night.

7:31- Alex, Mikey, Hermo, and I pile into my car and head for Twisted Dunes Golf Course. It looks like it’s about to downpour.

7:42- The Arabic men working at Dunkin Donuts can’t understand us and we can’t understand them. The only one that makes any sense just repeatedly asks us if we want “HOT OR ICE COFFEE? HOT OR ICE??” After a lot of pointing and gesticulating they get 3 out of the 4 of our orders correct. Not bad considering, I guess.

7:55- We pull into Twisted Dunes and I cruise right past the bag drop while scanning for the clubhouse.

7:57- As Hermo, Alex, and I are putting on our golf shoes (Mikey is a sneakers guy) a man pulls up on a cart and takes our four bags for us.

8:00- We enter the clubhouse and pay our $25 for the round. I half expect the employees to give us a look like “These are the writers that we gave a discount to?” but they are over the top nice. Alex and Mikey each also buy a bucket of range balls. Hermo and I proclaim that we are cold turkey players.

8:02- Mikey, thinking that his coffee has run right through him, enters the bathroom. It’s a false alarm.

8:04- Back at my car, I mention how it looks like it’s going to rain for days. Mikey mentions that the guy in the clubhouse said that it’s going to blow right over. I say that every guy in the clubhouse says that, but Mikey assures me that this guy wasn’t just saying it because he was watching the Doppler.

8:06- Mikey, Hermo, and I walk over to the bag drop and try to figure out how much we should tip the guy that grabbed our clubs for us. In an unprecedented move, Mikey takes command and tips the guy $4.

8:10- As Mikey and Alex make their way to the range, it starts to rain. It gets pretty aggressive rather quickly so the Twisted Dunes staff directs us into the cart barn.

8:20- It looks like sheets of rain are falling from the sky as our tee time passes.

8:22- Perhaps a little too into guy’s weekend, Alex suggests for the second time that we run 200 yards through the rain and get an alcoholic drink at the clubhouse.

8:32- Alex sticks his 9-Iron up in the air outside the back of the cart barn as if it’s a lightning rod. I wonder what would happen if the club was actually struck with a bolt of lightning. It’s metal and all, but there’s also a rubber grip that he's holding onto. My parents always used to tell me that cars were a safe place to be during a thunderstorm because of the rubber tires. So I’m curious to know how much protection, if any, the rubber would provide him with? Food for thought, I guess.

8:45- No signs of this monsoon letting up.

9:00- Apparently the guy in the clubhouse wasn’t just saying that it was going to blow over because the rain is magically gone.

9:02- Alex persuades the starter to let us start out on the back.

9:08- Alex tosses a tee up in the air to determine what order we will tee off in. Mikey sprays way right. I don’t go as far right, but I still have to take a drop. Alex’s ball doesn’t get airborne and ends up in the thick brush right in front of us. Hermo does the same. We are all thankful that no one was watching.

9:10- Twisted Dunes must have a really nice drainage system because the fairways are in very good condition. The only problem is the sand traps. They are exquisite and high arcing, but because of this the rain has left puddles in them all. Because none of us are really any good at golf and the puddles are out of control we decide to give ourselves free drops out of the sand for the entirety of the round. This decision surely shaves at least 10 strokes of our scorecards.

9:18- Mikey’s bogey on the 10th wins them the hole

9:38- After a par that squared our match on 12, I have the honors at the par-3 13th. The hole is about 175 yards away and there is water basically everywhere you look, especially all along the right hand side. I grab my 4-iron, close my eyes, and somehow end up on the back of the enormous green.

9:39- After Mikey parks one in the sand trap just to the left of the green, Hermo takes out his 6-iron and goes pin hunting. Off the club his ball is slightly left of the pin but is slowly fading right. We all think it’s going to go in the hole, but it fades a little too much and splashes into the water. For some reason I nominate it for the shot of the day.

9:40- Alex’s turn- Splash. Hermo hits another one just for fun and again it’s right at the pin, but splash. Just a little long. I make a joke about how his forearms got so strong.

9:50- With the water now on my right on the 14th I hook my drive about a mile left. I’m now onto sleeve #2 of golf balls.

9:58- Hermo sticks his second shot onto the green from about 210 yards out. Probably the actual shot of the day, but he would 3 putt for bogey.

10:02- Somehow Mikey scales a 30 foot dune and finds his ball. He then hits a ridiculous shot that lands just off the green.

10:58- I open sleeve #3

11:09- Mikey finds himself on the top of another incredibly high and steep dune. Hermo, an 8th/9th grade teacher, tells him to be careful.

11:20- After nine holes we are all square. Mikey, Alex, and I run in to get a quick bite at the turn.

11:22- The girl working the food stand thinks she’s a lot more attractive than she is. I detect a hint of Jersey ‘tude and I don’t like it.

11:23- I’m astounded at how big the hot dogs are. Joey Chestnut might struggle to down 10 of these bad boys. I slobber mine with mustard and relish and try to forget about the 51 I just had on the front.

11:34- Hermo and I both reach the 1st green in regulation, but my birdie putt goes about 15 feet past the hole. Don’t ask me how I managed that. Hermo’s birdie chance isn’t much better. We both finish with three putt bogeys, but still win the hole.

11:52- I open sleeve #4

11:56- Alex says, “Man, these dunes are twisted,” for the 8th time.

12:05- Another three putt bogey for Hermo. His 3rd of the day. I can’t really say much though because he is carrying our team on the back nine.

12:20- I mistakenly pick up Alex's ball. Once I become aware of my mistake I throw his ball right back to where it was.

12:24- Alex duffs his shot, but hits again on the grounds that I in some way messed with his rhythm. His second shot ends up about 1 foot from the hole.

12:36- Hermo and I are up two holes with 4 holes to play. I lose my drive and subsequent 3rd shot out of play. I’m banking on Hermo again, but after a good drive he falls apart and puts a 9 on the board.

12:44- After another drive of mine goes awry I throw my driver as if it’s an odd occurrence to see my ball not go straight.

12:46- After a few hours of open sky, it starts to drizzle once again.

12:49- Alex sinks a 15 foot putt for par and our match is now tied with two holes to play.

12:52- As we approach the 8th hole (a par-3) we see a woman sitting in a chair right by the tee box. She looks and acts exactly like our friend RJ’s mom. She starts to tell us about this absurd promotion, but Alex quickly tells her to just stop talking and explains that we are in a heated battle. I even go as far as to ask her to look away while I tee off because I can’t handle the audience.

12:56- About 5 times throughout our round, someone had stolen honors and hit a nice tee shot, so I quickly commandeer the tee box, but I hit my tee shot into a bush just to the right of the green.

12:57- Mikey ends up short and left of the green, Hermo parks his shot on the dance floor, and Alex goes well short and in some thick brush.

1:01- Hermo, the king of the three putts all day, two putts for par and puts the pressure on Mikey.

1:02- With the rain starting to pick up, Mikey yanks his 8 foot par putt left. Hermo and I now have them stymied with only one hole to play.

1:05- As we ride over to the 9th hole it starts to rain like it did when we were in the cart barn. RJ’s mom has long since packed it up and headed for cover.

1:06- Alex is saying that we should man up and play in the rain, but it’s really coming down so we call it a day and head back in. In retrospect, it would have been a much better story if we had stuck it out and finished, but this rain was ferocious.

1:10- Although we were one up with one hole to play, Hermo and I can’t claim victory because we didn’t finish the round. We don’t even really care because at this point we just want to get dry, drunk, and our fantasy draft started.

1:34- As we get back, I tell Alex, Mikey, and Hermo to get their Dunkin Donuts trash out of my car, but no one as much as flinches.

1:36- In the course of picking up all the trash myself, I grab an iced coffee container that is about a quarter of the way full and it spills all over my chest. For some reason I blame Hermo even though he is the only one that didn’t have coffee.

The Six Levels of the Male Friendship

In the past 12 months the word "bromance" has really come into its own. All of a sudden everyone has become very interested in the underlying dynamics of male friendships. We even saw the very underrated movie I Love You, Man, which was based entirely on the origins of a so-called "bromance." Now for the life of me I can't figure out why people became so enamored with male friendships in the first place. I mean we, men, are simple beings. There's no false advertising going on here. We like sports, women, beer, and power. That's really about it. Similarly male friendships, or "bromances", at least among twenty somethings are also very simple. They tend to follow a linear and logical progression.

Level One- You are in the same network, whether it be the same college or the same workplace, and you are aware that each other exists. When you come across one another you most likely make rash, negative judgments about the other like, "That kid is such a loser. I bet he brings nothing to the table. I can't believe [insert female's name here] hooked up with him."

Level Two- You meet and begrudgingly realize that neither of you are total d-bags. You have a few civil conversations, but still somewhat resent each other for something. (i.e. hooking up with a girl, being super athletic, etc.)

Level Three- You're friends with each others friends. You say what's up when you see each other. You might have a few inside jokes, but you basically repeat them every time you see each other. You aren't calling each other to hang out, but it's cool to see one another out. In fact, you aren't calling each other unless it's to play pickup basketball or something like that. You might go on Spring Break together, but only if it is a large group. Also, you might be on the same softball team.

Level Four- You're essentially in the same social circle, but you would never hang out together unless others from the group were present. For example, you'd golf together in a foursome, but you probably wouldn't ride in the same cart. You'd go to one another's house with the guys to watch the big game. You also might be in the same fantasy football league. Basically if you took alcohol and sports out of the equation you probably wouldn't speak to one another.

Level Five- You might be roommates. It wouldn't be weird to have a one on one man date for lunch. You are go-to drinking buddies and by default go-to wingmen. You give each other's girlfriend the kiss hello. You have each other's back-which means you're both ready to throw down and fight even if you are outnumbered and know the only reason you're fighting is because the other instigated everything with his loud mouth. If a Vegas trip was in the works, you'd want each other to be a part of it. You'd gladly help one another fix a flat tire and other manly stuff of that sort.

Level Six- You know each other's family and friends from home very well. You regularly keep in touch. You'd feel obligated to help one another move. You'd pick up/drop each other off at the airport. Somehow, someway you end up having heart to hearts about your careers/girls/etc. You'd let them date your sister. You'd undoubtedly be in each other's wedding parties.


This entire train of thought was triggered in my head last week when an old college buddy of mine picked me up from the airport in Chicago. He isn't a level six friend (he's about a five), but him picking me up was a level six move. Now you may disagree with my levels and that's fine with me. It's not like they are strict guidelines like the twelve steps of a recovering alcoholic. You don't have to accomplish everything listed in one level to move on to the next. But I do think they are a fairly good measure of how the male friendship develops.

Furthermore, most of you are aware that I have a particular fascination with the former NBC television series Seinfeld. I'm convinced that something happens to me at least once a week that directly relates to something that happened in one of the 180 episodes of the show. These Seinfeld moments are what I live for. Now my buddy picking me up from the airport wasn't exactly a Seinfeld moment, but it did remind me of this scene.

[phone rings]
JERRY: hello. Oh, hi. What's happening? … what? oh um, sure, … um, yeah, okay, uh. I'll see you then. Yeah, yeah, Bye.
ELAINE: Who was that?
JERRY: That was Keith.
ELAINE: What's going on?
JERRY: He wants me to help him move.
ELAINE: Help him move? Move what?
JERRY: You know, furniture.
ELAINE: So, what did you say?
JERRY: I said yes, but I don't feel right about it. I mean I hardly know the guy. That's a big step in the male relationship. The biggest. That's like going all the way.
ELAINE: And you feel you're not really ready for…
JERRY: Well we went out one time. Don't you think that's coming on a little too strong?

[Kramer enters]

KRAMER: What's going on?
JERRY: Keith Hernandez just asked me to help him move.
KRAMER: What? Well, you hardly know the guy…. What a nerve. You see wasn't I right about this guy? Didn't I tell you? Now, you're not going to do it are you?
JERRY: … I said yes.
KRAMER: YOU SAID YES!? Don't you have any pride or self respect? I mean, how can you prostitute yourself like this? I mean what are you going to do? You're going to start driving him to the airport?
JERRY: I'm NOT DRIVING HIM TO THE AIRPORT!
KRAMER: yeah yeah
JERRY: hey Kramer do me a favor.
KRAMER: What?
JERRY: Don't mention it to anybody.
KRAMER: I wish you never mentioned it to ME. [exits]

Sure enough, there's another Seinfeld scene that also relates to my different levels of friendship notion. Jerry and Elaine have been chosen to be the Godparents of a couple's baby, but they question the closeness of their relationship with the couple because they feel uncomfortable about the bris.

JERRY: How did I get to be Godfather? I don't even know him that well. Just cause we're on the softball team and I'm the pitcher and he's the catcher he thinks we have a relationship?
ELAINE: I thought pitchers and catchers did have a special rapport.
JERRY: Maybe in hardball it's more involved you know they have signals and everything. I'm just lobbing it in. We don't have conferences. He doesn't come out to the mound and encourage me.
ELAINE: What about me? I watched a few games with her sitting in the stands.
JERRY: Don't they have any closer friends. They're level jumping on our friendship.
ELAINE: Yes it is level jumping.

The Female problem with Fantasy Football

Week 16 in the NFL concludes tonight in Chicago and with that wives and girlfriends everywhere will be rejoicing knowing that it also means the end of the fantasy football season. From mid August to late December men waste countless hours 'managing' their fantasy teams. They look at matchups, filter stats, read what the experts think, try to trade players, and make decisions about who they should play on gameday. I don't mean to undermine the draft, but I feel like I could write an entire blog entry about the preparations and strategies that go into that.

Women, for the life of them, can't figure out this obsession. They don't understand what would possess someone to become so attached to a team that doesn't actually exist. I think their overarching problem hinges on the word 'fantasy'. Their exclusion from this cyber world of fantasy football is a bit troubling for them. In a perfect world, they want all things that have to do with their man and the word 'fantasy' to involve them. When you think about it, it's a shame that we didn't stick with 'rotisserie' because women would not find that nearly as objectionable.

Women see this attachment to fantasy football and deep down wish that the time spent 'managing' a fantasy team's problems was instead devoted to them and their problems. Women are so protective of their men that they see fantasy football as a threat. In essence, men are 'cheating' on their wives and girlfriends with fantasy football. This notion was captured beautifully in the movie Knocked Up, in which Paul Rudd's character was suspected of cheating on his wife, played by Leslie Mann (fun fact- in real life she is married to Judd Apatow and the kids in the movie are theirs). Leslie Mann's character then tracks him down only to find out that he was partaking in a fantasy baseball draft (he got Matsui) and that he sometimes goes to movies by himself.

Now that I have laid out the actual reasons that women dislike fantasy football, I must warn you that no woman in their right mind would ever admit it. If asked their thoughts on fantasy football, women would largely say, "I just think it's dumb and pointless. I don't get why men waste so much time with it," and most of them would truly believe that those were their feelings in regards to it. However, I stand by my Freud like analysis because 1.) I think it's accurate and 2.) I've been trying to get a female to post a comment on this blog for a while and I think this might do the trick. Women's feelings on fantasy football are in accordance with men's feelings about shopping. If asked their thoughts on shopping, men would largely say, "I think it's dumb." (Obviously men are more succinct in their thought process). Just like every little girls dream is to one day be a model or fashion designer, every little boy dreams of one day being the GM or owner of a professional sports franchise.

Of course there are exceptions to every rule. Plenty of women have come to the dark side and play in fantasy football leagues with their husbands, boyfriends, or co-workers. These women are what we fantasy guys like to call 'keepers'. Although I wish it wasn't true, there are both sides to the coin on this one as well. Some straight men enjoy shopping, doing the dishes, and baking. Case in point...