I’m over it.
I’m done pouting and sulking.
I’m through beating myself up over what could have been, and I’m ready to move on.
For months, I’ve wallowed in my misery and let my emotions get the best of me, and I just can’t take it anymore.
Finally, I’m prepared to let my reality become fantasy once more.
Like millions of others across the nation, I am addicted to fantasy football, and typically, now is when the anticipation for the upcoming season really starts to kick in.
But I didn’t know if it would happen this year.
I take my fantasy football pretty seriously, and last season was one of my better performances. I drafted a solid core of players, worked some waiver wire magic throughout the year and made almost all the right decisions in regards to my starters on a weekly basis.
It culminated with a streak of five wins in the final six weeks of the regular season and a first-round victory in the playoffs, propelling my squad into the Super Bowl.
Although I was pitted against the league’s top team, which experienced just two losses all season, my confidence was high.
As long as my players produced as expected, I knew I could compete with anyone.
And I was right.
Every single player in my lineup produced double-digit points, and I finished with a whopping 153 points — one of the highest totals of the entire season for the league.
But it wasn’t enough as my opponent won with 181 points, capitalizing on insane fourth-quarter performances from Seattle quarterback Russell Wilson and receiver Doug Baldwin and Arizona running back David Johnson, who combined to score an eye-popping 102 points.
I was watching the game live and could practically feel the league’s championship trophy being ripped from my hands, and instantly, I was through.
I couldn’t stomach the thought of fantasy football and lost my normal enthusiasm for the playoffs. I spent my spring and summer avoiding most television and radio shows about the NFL.
After having my heart torn out, I simply didn’t want to even think about anything related to fantasy football, and for a while I wondered if I ever would again.
I take every season-ending loss hard, but this one in particular was difficult to shake off. Even several weeks after the point I begin making preparations for next year, I still didn’t care.
But for whatever reason, my zeal suddenly returned, and I’m over it.
My passion returned, and I’m ready for fantasy to become reality once more.
I just can’t resist fantasy football any longer, because the thrill of the season simply brings me too much joy — even when it ends in heartache.