My brother talked me into joining his fantasy football league last year. “You’re ready,” he said. “And you’ll love it.”
On the face of it, those are funny statements. Up until maybe ten years ago, I knew nothing about football. Other than the marching band, nothing anyone did on that field made any sense to me at all. It was like watching a foreign film without subtitles. But everyone else was having such a good time on game day that I decided to figure it out.
It wasn’t easy. It helped to break down the game into drives instead of trying to digest the whole thing at one time. It also helped to realize that nobody watching the game had all the rules at their fingertips all the time. That’s what refs and commentators were for. (That and yelling at, apparently.) But on January 12, 2013, all the pieces suddenly clicked into place. Listening to the radio broadcast of the AFC divisional playoff game between the Ravens and the Broncos, following along as Ravens QB Joe Flacco threw a game-tying 70-yard touchdown pass to receiver Jacoby Jones with under a minute left in regulation football, I realized that the reason I was totally swept into the game was because I actually understood what was going on.
Fantasy football adds a whole new dimension to following a game. Not only does it come with a slew of expected scores and stats, there’s a posted probability-of-winning percentage that changes throughout your fantasy game. You can be groaning over the 38% chance of winning it says you have one moment only to see that percentage rise to 95% based on a real-time combination of projected points, performance, and time left to play. My fascination with this number is as strange as my idiot-savant football acumen, because I have never been much of a math girl (go figure.) But maybe I’m interested because this probability-of-winning thing isn’t math. It isn’t even football. It’s life.
I don’t believe in predetermined fate. I believe that outcomes shift based on actions taken within each moment. Like the probability-of-winning percentage, future options arise based less on a plotted path than on choices offered and made within the present, each of which shifts based on the choice made in the moment before it.
In that 2013 divisional game, the Ravens were the 9.5-point underdogs to the top-seeded Broncos. They were coming off a three-game losing streak (one of them a 34-17 loss to the Broncos), while the Broncos had won their last eleven games. According to ESPN’s Stats and Information’s win probability model, Denver had a 97.2 chance of winning the game right before Flacco launched that 70-yard bomb of a pass. But by the time Ravens rookie kicker Justin Tucker lofted a 47-yard field goal in double overtime to win 38-35, the game had more than justified its name: the Mile High Miracle.
The Ravens went on to beat Tom Brady and the Patriots in the AFC Championship game before defeating San Francisco to win the Super Bowl title.
So many things could have gone wrong. But they didn’t.
We can’t control everything in our lives, and there’s never a guarantee we’ll get the outcome we want (or think we want) in each situation. But neither do we have to assume that what looks like loss or failure at a given moment is a done deal.
With that in mind, I will sign off; I have a fantasy football team to draft.
Off all the surprises you’ve handed me over the years, Jill, I don’t think any has been as purely (and amusingly) baffling as this one! I’ve had first-hand experience of your maths-phobia. And . . . FOOTBALL? What’s got into you, girl? But as they say, whatever floats your boat.
I could start banging on about medieval conceptions of fate and providence in a fallen world (with or without Hail Mary passes), but won’t (lucky you!) beyond to say it’s tough out there, and sports have always served as analogues and metaphors for the game of life, I suppose. Anything that brings a) pleasure and b) unexpected insights can’t be all bad. Can it?
p.s. You want baffling? Caz and I occasionally watch Australian Rules Football, which is a bit like NFL played, without protective gear, by balletic serial killers. The finals season is about to begin, and you can watch clips of play at https://www.afl.com.au/video if you dare . . .
I have always loved football as I think you know (college ball in my case, my beloved MSU Spartans…Go Green!) and as you say, it’s human drama playing out on the field, essentially. Also, like life and human drama, surprises abound. MSU was playing in U-M’s stadium, nicknamed “The Big House” in 2015, and despite being ranked higher nationally than U-M (something that’s not particularly common in the rivalry’s long history) the Spartans were about to lose a close game. All U-M had to do was finish the game with one play. And, well…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dqv48MwEbaQ
There’s one Wolverine fan whose reaction shot on TV has become iconic for State fans, and I feel kinda bad for him about it, honestly…. I’ve heard through the grapevine he has developed a sense of humor about it, I’ll bet you know which one I mean if you watch the clip.
Robert, I think most writers find metaphor and potential insight in just about any situation presented, but I’m glad I can still surprise!
Australian Rules Football looks like soccer and American football had a baby. That would be a whole new learning curve for me! Maybe in my spare time …
Kristina, that clip says it all. Deep down, we all want to know that even something that looks like a dire done deal has the ability to change for the better. (Of course, I might get an entirely different response from a U-M fan, kinda like the one you point out!)
Love it. Thanks for posting.
To me, Aussie Rules looks like a pub brawl that people found so much fun that they slapped a few rules on it to make it last longer . . .