Although my name was on the CBPFFL trophy three times, I had never actually possessed it. I was in Vegas for my bachelor party and Hank brought it in by plane like a new kidney to a dying child. He had to fight his way through the casino labyrinth of slot machines, gaming tables, and drunken tourists that grabbed for the golden prize with the desperation of Gollum, who would kill his brother to possess it. Fighting them off, Hank escaped into an elevator to climb to our room on the highest floor of Bally’s where we were watching the action down on The Strip. At long last, the trophy is mine!
As the new incarnation of the CBPFFL is far more challenging to win, my fourth victory was by far the hardest. Hank will tell you that all the championships before 2009 are invalid (thus giving Murat zero “real” victories), but I won’t go that far. All those years ago, we seemed to spend obsessively more time discussing trades back in the halls of Landon than we do nowadays, occupied with jobs and even children of our own. It was a glorious time, when the legend of Joey Galloway and KC defense were born…when the box scores were all the info you had and we tricked Carl into picking up a kick returner for his team.
Anyhow…I so excited to see the thing that I started drinking shots out of it, despite Hank’s warning about the dust build up from his apartment. Alcohol can kill anything, except stupidity…and the desire to win another title.
