A Loving Letter For Those Dealing With Fantasy Football Losses

Dear Betches,

As I'm sitting here at my local Starbucks in Chicago, watching couples in parkas pass hand-in-hand, I cannot help but realize how devastatingly sad this day must be for some betches and their beaus.

Because fantasy football playoff season is upon us, and the unrelenting fist of the mighty Gods of football have unwaveringly decimated fantasy leagues everywhere en route to crowning a league champion.

With teams knocked out of the playoffs one-by-one, fantasy owners are left to just sit and stare at their tear-stained MacBook Pro screens, questioning each draft addition and analyzing every trade. Remembering how craftily the squad of champions was named–from something kitschy like “Watt is Love?” to a name that makes you shut down your screen every time a suit at work walks by, like “Adrian BeatHerSon.”

And now, in this moment of loss and need, the questions start pouring in, and the self-doubt begins.

“What could I have done differently?”

“How could I have possibly foreseen Jay Cutler out-scoring Aaron Rodgers?”


And you, the loving betch, are there to hold his hand and pick up the pieces of his shattered ego. Perhaps you or your boyfriend made some outlandish bet back in September, when a loss in the fantasy football world could never be imagined. A month of favors, perhaps? A promise to wear an ungodly penis costume to work? A tattoo, even?

Now that the inevitable losses in the postseason have begun, the time has come to pay up on these bets, while watching any chances of winning the fantasy football pot of gold escape from your greedy paws. How do we cope?

Shy away from the reminder that “there's always next season.” He's sitting pantless on the floor, cradling a tub of Ben and Jerry's and cursing each time the SportsCenter personalities mention Andre Ellington and his season-ending injury. Is now really the time for rational thinking?

And no gloating. No needless nagging about how you could have spent Sundays boozy brunching instead of watching the shiity Oakland Raiders, just because he picked up James Jones in his fantasy league on the prayer of a chance that he could replace the devastatingly injury-ridden Brandon Marshall.

And finally, no judgment. For those glorious weeks, the hopes of dreams of finally winning a fantasy football championship were alive. The success felt so real you could almost taste it. And those daydreams are shattered on the floor of his grungy apartment.

It's still not the time for realistic rationalization. But just remember, there's always next season.


LaBetch James


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