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Root for the enemy? Fantasy football is evil


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OK, that kinda creeped me out. But we were winning, so it wasn’t that big a deal. But eventually, Washington and Dallas – longtime NFC East rivals – had to play, and that’s what pushed me over the edge. I was in the pressbox covering the game, and midway through the second quarter, I found myself quietly rooting for Smith and Irvin whenever the Cowboys got into the red zone.

Then Irvin scored. He broke out into those annoying end zone gyrations, with all sorts of preening and prancing, teasing and taunting. Under most circumstances I would mutter something under my breath about him… but because I knew that I was getting more fantasy points, and I gleefully slammed my fist on the table…

And that’s it hit me. I felt, well, dirty.

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How could any man born and raised inside the Beltway find any pleasure in a damned Cowboy scoring a touchdown on the Skins?

Do dogs and cats live together? If they ever created a rotisserie political league, would Bill O’Reilly draft Hillary Clinton? Would Al Gore scoop up Rush Limbaugh and do a giddy little dance because he couldn’t believe he was able to steal a gasbag pundit so late in the third round?

Of course not.

Enemies ought to have standards. Rivals need to set limits. Anything that causes a true football fanatic to root for his archenemy to do well against his favorite team is clearly involved in an insidious and heinous habit. And that’s why I believe that fantasy football and all those who participate in its wickedness are undermining the very fabric of American society. It’s not rap music. It’s not the bimbo-ization of our culture by Brittany and Paris.

It’s fantasy freakin’ football. It is the personification of evil and it must be destroyed.

On the other hand, I am quite comfortable with the tricks of the trade in Football Nation. I am a firm believer that a little creative deception never hurt anyone, and I am not alone.

Every morning you can find him roaming the expansive backyard of Rams Park. If the St. Louis Rams are on the practice field, then Dan Linza is on the scene, carefully scanning the shadows, parking lots, rooftops, hillsides and gullies and warehouse lots and loading docks that surround the team’s Earth City training facility.

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Linza is a small man with a big job. As the head of team security, and he’s constantly on the lookout for eavesdropping strangers and suspicious characters anxious to catch a glimpse of the Rams practices. Sometimes, he is perched on the big grass berm with large binoculars in his hands. Other times he stalks the other end of the field, peeking over the tree-lined fence for spies lurking in the woods. So far, no spies have fallen into Linza’s security web, just the occasional overzealous gawker. Every team in the National Football League has a man like Linza, and they are on perpetual homeland security alert, which ought to tell you one thing about life in the NFL:

Everybody in the NFL may not necessarily cheat, but everybody in the NFL thinks everybody cheats.

Bryan Burwell writes regularly for msnbc.com and is a columnist for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch.


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