Football, shmootball.

I'd like to offer this: To those who jump into this wild roller-coaster ride of emotions every year that we call "Fantasy Football", perhaps we should think about renaming it. It's not too difficult to realize that we misinterpret fifty percent of the phrase. Football? Yes. Fantasy? Hardly.

I feel like I've got a decent grasp on the kind of world you all live in. And with that, I feel comfortable enough in saying I'm *sure* that none of you would call a world in which your team *loses*...EVER...a "fantasy" world. Moreover, I'm sure that in this "fantasy", your players would not get injured, leaving you with your scrubs, whom you can only pray didn’t start their day by covering their hands in Country Crock spread.

Would your Kevin Curtis’ and Carnell Williams’ of the world blow their knees? Would your Aaron Rodgers’ and Brian Westbrooks sprain their ankles? In a "Fantasy", would you even OWN a Tony Richardson, or want to bother seeing his name as an “Available RB”? Go ahead. Look him up. And no, you wouldn’t.

Now, I don't want to get into a big heated discussion about what we should consider calling it instead of "Fantasy" Football. There are many options, and as you're reading this, I'm sure your brain is scrambling. Off the top of my head: "Anguish", "Reality Check", and "Heartbreak" just to name a few.

Without getting too preachy, I’ll leave you with this: If we’re going to continue to call this “Fantasy Football” year after dream-crushing year, I’d like to make a few phone calls. I’d like to call those who have made it to my rosters in years past and ask a few questions. For example, “How can you be hurt if your bones are made of steel?”, or, “Why didn’t you just use your super-speed?!”, and “How come you didn’t just morph into a fucking T-rex?!”

It's time to brainstorm, people. Because last time I checked, Eli Manning’s arm ISN’T robotic.