Jack Stallard

My son’s fantasy football league needed another team to make it a full, eight-team league, so after several years of refusing to participate, I am now the owner, coach and general manager of the One-Eyed Jacks.

I’ve used every excuse possible to avoid playing fantasy sports over the years.

It takes too much time to keep up with players and make the roster moves necessary to be successful.

When I get a rare chance to watch a game for pleasure and not work, I don’t want to worry about how many points the players on my roster are earning.

I’ve even declared in this space that I would refuse to participate until some of my actual fantasies are included in the rules. Anything involving free cookies, games played in outdoor stadiums on real grass and maybe a hug from Miranda Lambert after she sings the National Anthem would do the trick.

None of those rules were adopted this year, but the Man Child needed me, so I joined the league.

It didn’t start well.

Someone (who probably isn’t 57 and tired) decided to hold the draft of players at 10:30 p.m. on the only night of the week I have a chance to be home and get in bed early.

I ended up with the seventh pick in the draft, and we had one minute to select players before Yahoo does an auto-draft for you.

If that happens, you end up with a free agent receiver from Lugnut Tech who couldn’t catch a cold in a room full of runny-nosed third-graders, a running back from Tennessee A&M School of Trees and Stuff who has two bad knees and couldn’t outrun his own offensive linemen or a quarterback from OWU (Oprah Winfrey University) who gives away interceptions like Mrs. Winfrey used to give away prizes on her show.

I handled the pressure pretty well, and was pleased with the team I selected — until the next morning when Yahoo handed out grades for the draft.

Not only did I receive a D-minus for my team, but my first-round matchup came against my son’s team, and he was given an A-plus by Yahoo for his draft.

I complained to my lovely wife, but she gave me no sympathy and even questioned my decision to use my first pick on a defense instead of picking a quarterback or tight end. This from someone who claims to know (or care) nothing about football despite being married to a sports writer for the past 25 years.

I also thought about petitioning the league’s commissioner, but I’m a Tennessee fan and he’s an Alabama fan, so I don’t think I would get a fair shake in any rulings.

Since I really only joined the league for fun and to help out the Man Child, I decided to stick with my draft picks and let the chips fall where they may.

And, a funny thing happened on the way to a 1-0 start.

My defensive team looked like a mix of the Steel Curtain (Pittsburgh Steelers), Orange Crush (Denver Broncos), Monsters of the Midway (Chicago Bears), Fearsome Foursome (Los Angeles Rams), Gritz Blitz (Atlanta Falcons) and Doomsday Defense (Dallas Cowboys), and my defensive player turned into a one-man wrecking crew.

I got 120 points on defensive selections, and that made up for the fact both of my quarterbacks, one of my running backs and my tight end all played like they were taking money from my son’s team to purposely lose the game.

When the final snap was taken Monday night, the D-minus One-Eyed Jacks had defeated the Man Child’s A-plus team by 51 points.

This week, I’m matched up against the league commissioner’s dad, who is also an Alabama fan. I just hope he’s not still upset about my Tennessee Vols beating his Crimson Tide last season, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to at least try and be nice.

So, “Go Alabama!”

(And take Auburn with you).