A Summary Of My Relationship With Fantasy Football & Evangelicalism

But I can’t. Because I love them both as much as sometimes I also really, really hate them. As much as I want to walk away, as much as I want to say “F%$# it all! I’m never going to give a diddly-squat about Mark Driscoll’s sabbatical or Peyton Manning’s statistics AGAIN!” … I know that every Sunday I’ll still be praying for both of them.

Because as much as they kill me, as much as they give me grey hairs at age 24… I still can’t quit them. They’re part of me, I’m part of them. I can lie, I can pretend I don’t care. I can go on hipster spiels about the emergent church and returning to Rome; I can watch football games with friends who don’t play fantasy, I can act like I have a life, pretend that I’m impartial to seeing Calvin Johnson catch an 85 yard touchdown pass and DASH MY HOPES OF MAKING THE PLAYOFFS A SECOND YEAR IN A ROW — but it’s just not true.

Because whenever I encounter Evangelicalism & Fantasy Football, my response is the same: I just can’t quit you. I don’t know how. I’ve tried but I can’t.

And so it is that I begin another year of watching my team go down the drain, wondering why the hell I ever took Emmanuel Sanders in the draft and if Big Ben will turn out to be a sleeper pick.

At the same time, I begin another semester at an Evangelical seminary, asking again and again if I’ll ever find my niche in a this sub-culture of Christianity, a sub-culture which demands reform much more than departure.

So here’s to us, Fantasy Football & Evangelicalism.

For the times I love you, for the times I hate you, for the times I can’t bear it.  Here’s to another year and another season:



Let’s do this.






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