I am the champion.

Repeat. I AM THE CHAMPION.

Most of you won’t have to deal with that too much, but for the select few, um, yeah. They’re going to hate me even more than normal after this weekend.

Why? You’ll know exactly why if taking a fourth-string running back in the third round means something to you, or if you can relate to picking up a fifth-string wide receiver in the middle of October and then starting him that same day and he sets a Dallas Cowboys’ record. Oh, and on top of that, you finish 8-5 in the regular season but still win your division and then win the whole damn championship.

Yup, it’s fantasy football draft weekend and I’m about to rock. Like what? Like A CHAMPION. Again why? Because I AM THE CHAMPION.

Last year, I won my league. Now, like most, I’ve been in ton of leagues over the years. Before, I was only theoretically talking about FFL since in my former job I was not allowed–and no way would I ever do something not within the rules–to have a fantasy team. Even for a pro league that has no bearing on the college game. What(ajoke)ever.

So, let’s just talk about my play over the years. To do this we could look at my team’s record, but it blows donkey balls. Sorry, but that’s probably as polite as I can be. Overall throughout the years my real team has typically been mediocre at best, which probably correlates to the real-life teams I associate with. FML.

Anyway, that’s my real team. It’s my real team because there are other junk leagues I play in for fun and bragging rights and most are online and just… um, whatever. But I have one league that stands above the rest. It was started after our freshman year in college, so we’ve been actually doing this for more than 20 years in the same league.

It’s the same format (yardage only, no touchdowns) with about 5-6 guys who have been in it the whole time. Now it’s up to 24 teams, with two 12-team conferences, so wonderfully named the AFC and NFC. Ingenious. Really the only difference between then and now is that it started as a 12-team league (or maybe 8; that was a long frickin’ time ago) and that we don’t have to wait for the mail. Back then, I’d scour the box scores in the papers on Monday to get a preliminary score because my hetro-life partner, who back then was just called a best friend, was in charge of the league and he’d send us all typed updates through the postal service. We’d get the weekend’s results on like Thursday or some bullshit. Unreal.

In our current format, there’s four divisions of three teams in each conference. We have separate drafts for each conference, so the only way you play someone who has the potential to have the same players is in the Super Bowl. And when you’re in the Super Bowl, you are playing for the Dan Bontjes Memorial FFL Trophy.

(NOTE: Dan was a buddy of ours in high school and played football with us and I think he had a team in the first league, but he died from colon cancer when we were like 23. That’s one thing about our group of guys. When you die, you get shit named after you. I’m quite sure I have a spot outside the Legion Hall that will have a plaque with my name on it someday).

So, how else do I know the name of the trophy? Because I AM THE CHAMPION and I have it on the mantle above the downstairs fireplace in the living room. Boom.

Well, actually, I should back up.

I know it’s there because sugar mama actually won it with her team–aptly named the Powder Puff Players–to become the 2009 Super Bowl winner and champion. She still can claim ownership of it until Saturday at our draft because that’s when the trophy is handed over. And now, it will be mine since my team–H.O.M.A.S. LP (stands for Hit Or Miss All-Stars of Loves Park)–won the Super Bowl and made it so that I can say I AM THE CHAMPION for this past year.

It’s pretty amazing I actually won it (or pretty pathetic on everyone else’s part, however you want to look at it) considering I did my least amount of preparation ever last year. That’s actually not saying much because most years I spend hours and hours going over stats and pouring over websites and looking through charts. I’d take in anything to try to figure out who to draft and how high. Even right now, I’m listening to the Fantasy Football Focus podcast on iTunes as I work as preparation.

(SIDENOTE: I fully agree with the host Mathew Berry, who just read an email from a listener….   Email person: I had a draft the other day and my kid’s school planned the parent orientation for the exact time. How dare they? What were they thinking? So I had some guy named “Auto Draft” do the draft for me and I got two defenses. What would you do about this?….   Mathew Berry: Who the hell do you think you are? Your kid will have several more orientations. Why were you not at the draft? You deserve to lose.)

So anyway, I’m now starting to do my homework for the draft this weekend and just wanted to take a minute to spread the love and make note of the fact that I AM THE CHAMPION in public. And now’s a good time, I guess, since some spambot or something must have picked up my blog yesterday because I got mega-hits on for no reason at all for the “Bumblebee Me” blog. I normally get about 25-30 hits a day. For the past two weeks it’s gone like this: 36, 26, 20, 21, 29, 63, 29, 41, 19, 10, 36, 33, 31, and then yesterday was 127. Even today before I post a new blog it’s already at 28.

My guess? Fat kids.

Fat kids around the country somehow saw it through their Fat Network. And now they’re passing it around and taking solace in the fact that they too don’t have to be the only ones who looked like damn fools playing soccer in third grade.

And if that’s the case, if fat kids everywhere are starting to read this blog, then they can also take solace in something else. What’s that, you ask? That they too can be the champion if they continue with something long enough. Just like the Cubs will again, someday, some year win the damn World Series, fat kids can have faith in the fact they, too, can win. Because I did. Because…

I AM THE DAMN CHAMPION.