Courtesy of The Player’s Tribune.
Dear Fantasy Football,
From the moment
I drafted Terrell Owens with my first pick ever
And heard chuckles and whispers around the table
100 yard, 2 touchdown games
Flexing like a jerk after a 7 yard gain on a wide open slant route
making me feel like a champion
I knew one thing was real:
I wanted to keep believing I knew more about sports than everyone else.
A love so deep I gave you my all —
From my mind & body
To my spirit & soul.
As a 22-year-old boy
Deeply in love with you
I never saw the end of the tunnel.
I only saw myself
Running out of one with a ton of dollars in my hand.
And so I drafted.
I drafted on sight, on rumors, on hearsay.
Winners, losers, busts, sleepers.
You asked for my hustle
I gave you my heart
Because it came with so much more.
I played through the sweat and hurt
Not because challenge called me
But because YOU called me.
I did everything for YOU
Because that’s what you do
When someone makes you feel as
Alive as gambling has made me feel.
You gave a dude his goal of being a GM
And I’ll always love you for it.
But I can’t love you obsessively for much longer.
This season is all I have left to give.
My heart can take the pounding
My mind can handle the grind
But my soul/wallet knows it’s time to say goodbye.
And that’s OK.
I’m ready to let you go.
I want you to know now
So we both can savor every moment we have left together.
The good and the bad.
We have given each other
All that we have.
And we both know, no matter what I do next
I’ll always be that dude
With the cheat sheet and the
highlighter in the corner
:05 seconds on the clock
Mouse in my hands.
5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1
“Hold up, I’m not ready yet.”
We had a time,
Siddharth
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Free Association 
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