Last night, I sat through one of the longest fantasy baseball drafts of my life. 18 teams, 26 players per team, 468 players later, I am still feeling pretty numb. I am fairly certain that two retired players were drafted. There might even be one dead guy selected. I’m not sure; it is all just a blur. I’m pretty sure I got splinters from scraping the bottom of the barrel. At this point, I am just thanking my lucky stars that it was not an auction draft, which easily would have doubled the time.

One guy completed the draft from a hotel in Las Vegas. Now, that is dedication. He has the world’s playground around him, and he’s drafting fantasy baseball. There is about a 99% chance he is single. Or, if he is as smart as picks indicate he is, he sent his wife to the spa during the draft.

More remarkably, I received my one and only “nice pick” when I picked up Jeff Clement in the last round. The draft undervalued catchers and I figured a second one could not hurt. But, is it really possible to find value in a round where most of the players remaining would not even draft themselves in their clubhouse league? I’ll be honest, the main reason I drafted Clement at that point was because he went to the University of Southern California, just like me.

Why do we put ourselves through this kind of self-inflicted torture? Do we selectively remember the fun first few rounds where people are having fun, and just forget about the last couple of hours which you are struck with decision paralysis while staring at the hundreds of names and numbers.

And, in case you did not catch the title reference, here is a clip to remind you:

One of the classics. If you have not seen it, watch it now.