Fifty Shades of Green–It’s THAT Kind of Fantasy, Right?


It's a problemI know it today and I knew it while I was doing it: you don’t use your first fantasy pick to snag a quarterback. But every mfing year, Jon Jones picks earlier than I do and every year, he gets Aaron Rodgers. And then I have to spend the whole season watching Jon put up killer numbers while I feel filthy trying to be supportive of Josh McCown.

I’ve always wanted Aaron Rodgers and now I have him. I. Rule.

And then I read my Draft Report Card. OMG. I got a C. From a robot. While it knows how awesome Rodgers is and will be, it totally criticized me for blowing my wad early, leaving hot running backs on the table in favor of receivers.

Oh, and Mason Crosby.

Which leads me to my small problem. I am a Packer fan to a fault. The few fantasy seasons I didn’t stack my team with Packers, I felt like I needed shower after every game. The hubs is watching his beloved Eagles and cheering for Dez Bryant. I wonder what ELSE he’s doing when he thinks I’m not watching. It’s gross.

But this year, I’m resolved to whittle this whole process down to spreadsheets and math and projections and lots and lots of SportsCenter. I even did the unspeakable today and switched from FM to AM radio in search of sports sports sports. Unfortunately, we’re in South Carolina where all I get was a really long interview with Dabo Sweeney. He was useless.

As the only girl on the panel of esteemed contributors, I know it’s on me to do my people proud. Pink it and shrink it will not get it done. I hope you’ll take it easy on me while I recount the trek up my very steep learning curve, and for the love of God, don’t listen to a thing I say that starts with, “Jesus, look at the forearms on that guy. I should totally pick him up on the waiver wire.”

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Meredith Short
Writer, Packer Fan, Utterly Underqualified Fantasy Football Consultant. Growing up in Green Bay made Meredith into a life-long Packer devotee and consumer of cheese curds. She was a three-sport athlete until college and fancied herself a real sports aficionado—right up until the night she met her future husband, the Rainman of sports trivia. The same night she met Voodoo Brown, she fell for Chris, winner of beer pong, spouter of sports stats, and the only dude at the bar with a collared shirt. She tech writes for the government, has published a comic and a book, and writes grants for non-profits—qualifying her not one iota to write sports. Today, she watches football, engaged in the action and occasionally commenting on Jordy’s forearms or so-and-so having a pretty good season, while Chris runs phone, laptop, and multi-screen TV tracking every number trackable. And this year, they’re both playing fantasy. Will his hard work and savant status win out or will this be like Preakness 2004 when she picked every race based on cutest horse name or prettiest silk? And won. Watch and learn. Or at least watch.