Our fantasy league’s last-place trophy is a toilet plunger spray-painted gold. We call it the Squeaker. It lives on the loser’s mantle for a full year, and there are engraving rules.
Big D was winning his matchup by four points going into Monday night. Four points. He spent the whole game doing math on his fingers like a man defusing a bomb.
Final whistle: he won by two. The group chat erupted. Somebody posted a crown emoji. Big D did a lap around his living room in his socks.
Then Tuesday morning happened.
A stat correction took away a two-yard reception. Two yards. The kind of correction nobody notices except the one guy it ruins.
Big D lost by a tenth of a point. A tenth. The commissioner double-checked. The commissioner triple-checked. The commissioner is Big D’s brother-in-law, and even he couldn’t save him.
The trophy presentation was scheduled for our Halloween party, because the league has a sense of humor and Big D has a mortgage.
He accepted the Squeaker dressed as a referee, which was his choice and his mistake, while twelve grown men in costumes chanted “REVIEW THE PLAY.”
He keeps the plunger next to his wedding photo. His wife moved the wedding photo.
She didn’t move it far. Just to the other side of the room. She says it’s about balance. Big D says it’s about respect. The plunger stays.
Draft day is in August. Big D has already started a spreadsheet. The spreadsheet has tabs. The Squeaker gleams on the mantle, gold paint catching the light, waiting.
He’s already talking about next season. That’s the thing about fantasy football: the hope is the real trophy. The plunger is just… also a trophy.
Join the conversation
Load Facebook comments to read and reply using your Facebook account.