Editor’s note: If you couldn’t tell from the title, reader’s discretion is strongly advised.
As a girl, I struggled to find a fantasy football league that didn’t discriminate against estrogen back in the day.
Part of me gets it. Boys say they just want to play with their friends, but we all know the real reason they don’t want a girl in the league: losing to a chick would cause their already lacking parts to shrivel up even more.
Tired of trying to join a league, I decided to start my own, but there are only so many girls who love sports, especially the NFL, enough to commit to 17 weeks of setting lineups, making trades, and hitting the waiver wire.
That all changed quickly, and as has proven true with most things in my life, I owe it all to The Bachelor.
Marina del Rey 2011. My friend Lisa has a bunch of girls over every week to watch the greatest show in history hosted by Chris Harrison.
She loves sports, and being the Queen Bee of the group, she got the idea to create a fantasy football league. I said something along the lines of “Lisa, let’s effing do this!” And we were off to the races.
This entirely female league has become about more than just football: It’s a highlight of my year. I count down the days to our draft every summer.
I’m in at least two — sometimes three — other leagues, but this is my OG league, and it’s where the most smack-talking goes on.
Our first year there were 14 girls in the league. Thankfully that number has shrunk, but oh my, that first draft was a shit show…
Mind you 75% of the girls weren’t even sports fans; Lisa had just managed to talk them into doing this. There was a lot of wine, a lot of yelling, a lot of “wait I don’t get this!” But 6 hours later, we FINALLY all had teams.
Most had no idea who was who or who played what, so most had gone to Yahoo, printed the main list and drafted down one by one.
There was the occasional, “Oh wait, I want Reggie Bush! I know him from US Weekly!” or the “Oh yeah that guy is HOT,” but my favorite was when one of the girl’s turn was up and she said, “Well, the list says Jimmy Graham but it says NO next to him so I’m not going to take him.”
NO = New Orleans.
Team names that year included: “Jen’s Team” and “Team Kim” and then there was my team (close your ears): Bukkake Mafia.
I set the early standard for the league, and I’m proud to say that seven years later we’re still going strong in the team-name department.
After the first year, we’d weeded out most of the “really had no clue wtf they were doing” girls, and everyone stepped up their name game.
The following year we took it a step further and made shirts. OK, I made shirts, with a pretty logo and everything. (Side note: it’s next to impossible to find people willing to print anything that looks even remotely close to the NFL logo.)
Needless to say, Sundays at our bars in Santa Monica and Venice were dominated by these crude and very inappropriate shirts. #IGiveGoodWoodhead
As the years have gone on, we’ve gotten more and more serious about the draft and gotten rid of the dead weight (not setting lineups for more than one week and you’re booted for life).
We did a Vegas draft over Labor Day weekend which, in a surprise to absolutely no one involved, was an ABSOLUTE shit show. It was fun as hell, but some things are still not spoken about, even in our own group.
We did a Chicago draft and rented out part of a bar, which ended with a lot of drunk girls and a lot of deleted pictures.
There was an Arizona draft (sadly, I missed it in-person because I was sick).
Last year and this year are online, which I’m pissed about, but that’s what happens when you get older, have kids and take on more responsibilities. I don’t recommend any of those things btw…
Sunday draft brunches are dangerous. A lot of mimosas get served, and one of the girls was passed out by about the third round. We kept waking her up to pick, and every single time she would just say, “Coby Fleener.”
She drafted Fleener seven times. Probably the biggest accomplishment of his career.
Our messiest draft was definitely the year we went to Vegas. I’m not sure how we thought we were going to have a draft at 6 p.m. after spending the entire day at Wet Republic, but we tried.
By the beginning of the 7th round we wanted to kill ourselves. At one point some girls went down to have a cigarette and the rest of us decided to draft for them: Some of those drafted included: the country of Ukraine, Smoochie Wallace, O.J. Simpson, Vince Lombardi and the Cleveland Browns. (I have pictures of the draft board to prove it).
We stopped drafting in the 14th round and we regretted it for the rest of the year. We learned our lesson, and I’m passing it on: Draft first, then drink. Discipline, people. It’s all about discipline.
My girls’ league is one of the most fun sports-related things I do, and despite every single draft having some kind of huge fight (in-person it was always because someone was taking forever to pick), the smack-talking that goes on throughout the year is worth it.
Since coming up with team names is widely regarded as an art form, I figured I’d share some gems if you’re a fan of the “wildly offensive” genre.
I’m proud to say I gifted many of these to people because clearly I have the dirtiest/most offensive mind.
Apologies in advance because some are pretty bad. Please feel free to use these and be the envy of your league:
- Matt Asiata To Mouth
- Forsett Down My Throat
- Vaginal disChargers (told you these were really bad)
- Golden Taints
- Merkin Gordons
- Dirty Sanchez
- Dick in my Butkus
- Kneel Down and Teblow Me
- Calvin’s Johnson
- Harder! Foster!
- I Give Good Woodhead
- How My Vick Taste
- Cleveland Steamers
- Kansas City Queefs
- Nice Grodonkadonk
- My Ditka in a Box
- Brandon Brought the WeedIn
I haven’t decided on my name for this year, but I’m working on it. Not sure how I top my Matt Asiata To Mouth, but damn it I’m gonna try…