My son loves it. He knows the stats on all the players. Understands the nuances of the game. And can discuss it for hours, given the right audience.
Alexander played football in high school. I was happy that he didn't play defense.
He made it through Horace Mann without injury and then decides to join the sprint football team at Cornell. I'm not thrilled, but there isn't much I can do about it.
But then Alexander gets a shoulder injury and has to quit. I'm not happy about the injury (unrelated to football, by the way), but am relieved that I have one less thing to worry about during my son's college years.
Now that my son has graduated, and fortunately has not joined any local football teams, he's become a rather rabid fantasy football manager (or is it owner, I don't even know).
My son, who doesn't text me often, now seeks my advice.
And since some communication is better than none, I play along, even googling top fantasy football picks. Though of course I have no idea who these players are, and my son knows that beyond Tom Brady, the Peyton Brothers, and Russell Wilson, it'd be difficult for me to name even three more NFL players.
But after a few back and forths I miss him and just want to talk.
I ask him to call and he does.
I have no illusions that if I were asking Alexander to call and discuss his recent Uber bill he wouldn't.
Or why I keep getting phone overages on ATT's data usage.
Or if he were going to go to work on Rosh Hashanah.
Or when he's coming home next.
But for football he calls.
I remind him that he'll be 24 in November. He needs to start making his own decisions. I will always be there for him. But at times like this (choosing fantasy football picks), he'll just have to assess his options, weigh the consequences of each, and use his own judgment.
I hope his fantasy football team does well. Even without my contributions. But more importantly, I hope I still hear from him.
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