Fantasy Basketball is ruining my life. For the first time ever, I am participating in not one, but TWO fantasy hoops leagues (I have never previously played fantasy games of any sort). I always hated the idea, and was simply lured in by (a) the Freedarko brethren’s cry that we must try to reconstruct Freedarko prehistory & (b) some old college friends that I wish I kept in better touch with—sidenote: I am currently 12th out of 12 in that league standings. I always dreaded the idea of having to cheer for a guy that I didn’t like in real life, like Ginobili, simply because he could get you fantasy points. Also, Fantasy hoops completely obliterates all attempts at kamikaze “just so crazy it might work” Isiah-dom—as when I selected Sebastian Telfair in the 3rd round of the Darko draft. Sure, it won me some fleeting respect amongst the crew, but the end result has been demonizing. Not to mention the fact that my high school brother, who gave me some early pointers before draft day, mentioned that Telfair (according to Hollinger) would be a potential steal. Also, there’s the sad sad tale of owning Kevin Garnett. As KG is my favorite player, and his year has been one of misery and dipping numbers, I have been forced to DOUBLY experience the pain and suffering of Ticket and his Timberwolves outcasts. Injuries too, have plagued me. From Shaq to Yao to AK-47 to Diogu, there is no recourse. Neither league has an injured reserve list, so I can’t bring a guy like McCants onto my squad temporarily (also rescuing him from Fantasy oblivion). Waivers as a general concept appear to do nothing for me either. I thought picking up Jose Calderon would put me over the top in both leagues, but no. And as long as I am trade-shy, I am stuck with the team I have. The meaning of this suicide note is not to put myself above the legions of fantasy participants across the globe, but perhaps to admit my failure, that yes, I am only capable existing in basketball reality, albeit a subjective reality, and one that I share with mankind.