Tuesday, September 1, 2009

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN.....

Last night I spent the bulk of my night off at Dave and Buster's on West 42nd Street, where I matched wits with fellow fantasy football scribes in an ESPN Radio FFL Draft. Apparently this was an "invite-only" affair where the radio station selected certain individuals to participate with cash prizes up for grabs and bragging rights to keep. The first thing I found odd about the whole thing was the fact that they (ESPN) were holding its draft at Dave and Buster's and not at the ESPN ZONE.

Other things I picked up on during the testosterone-filled evening; Last year I went to an ESPN Draft party where I expected to participate in a similar draft. As it turned out, there was no draft to be had; however, they did have free booze and swag so it made up for the frustration of dealing with a clusterfuck of a night.

This time, however, while they actually had us at tables and participating in a real live draft, there was no freebies to be found. You had to pay for your own drinks and grub. WTF? If you're going to tell me that I'm a VIP, then at the very least, treat me like one!

As the night went on, I realized quickly why I fell out of love with the live draft format. Unless you're in a league with good friends with fun personalities, the night itself becomes pure torture. Everyone is an expert (or so they think) and everyone has to be heard. If one person says "Tom Brady has such-in-such stats", the next person has to one-up him by pulling out some obscure stat out of his ass to impress everyone at the table. Friggin ridiculous (I had a pretty good draft, by the way).

So after almost three hours of numbing torture, we finally ended our draft and I was out of there like a bat out of hell. As I headed home, I stopped by the bar to pick up my keys and to get a glimpse of how the night was going. What in the hell did I walk into? Outside of the bar was a handful of young, loud and boisterous Brits, celebrating what I think was the end of their summer internship. They were whooping and hollering, dancing up a storm and making general asses of themselves.

Walking into the bar, I saw more of the same; lots of team chants, dancing and power drinking (or as powerful as a mug of beer can get). Crazy stuff. I didn't last too long there- aside from a brief but good conversation with a couple of tennis media guys from the Far East who always make it a point to stop by our bar every year when the U.S. Open is in town. They are great guys and always good to talk to, however, with the chaos of the bar overwhelming me, I had to get out of there. They will be here for the next two weeks so I'll get to see them again.

Speaking of the U.S. Open, I'm planning on another excursion there this week, and I am LOOKING forward to it! I got my first taste of it last year and I swore that I would make it a yearly outing. So barring any last minute snafus, I'll be there again this year!

DOLLAR DRAFT MADNESS resumes tonight, the LAST ONE OF THE SUMMER! $1 Bud/Bud Light mugs, all night long!

More to come. Watch out for those Brits!



Nuff Said