LaDainian Tomlinson and One Owner's Man Crush: Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

You hear violins, and a timpani of joyous bells.

It is a beautiful song, one that wafts over the half chewed remnants of hot wings and pizza crusts and echoes off of the wood veneer panelling of your buddy's basement rec room like the voices of so many angels.

A scintillating scent fills the air. Is it lavender? Is it beer? Is it lavender beer?

You feel a rapturous sensation of triumph, just as great as the time you peeled off that Monopoly game sticker from your McDonald's large fry and instantly won another McDonald's large fry. No, even greater than that.

For today is your Fantasy Football draft day, and with the No. 1 pick overall, you have just selected—LaDainian Tomlinson.

"L.T."

The Man.

As the night goes on, the rest of your picks seem less exciting. Less intoxicating. You find yourself absently rubbing your finger over the pencilled in name of your RB1 as you go through the motions of choosing the rest of your team. In round seven you miss your turn, as you are busy drawing Chargers lightning bolts in the margins of your draft cheat sheet.

After what feels like days, the draft is finally over. You leave quickly before the Texas Hold 'em game breaks out. You do not want anything to deter you from setting up your roster for week one, which you do at your kitchen table at one in the morning while the rest of the world sleeps. In red ink, you write "LT" in bold letters on the page. And underline it.

Week one comes, and you can feel the sweat on your palms as you try to pick up the remote to turn on the television. You do everything you can to improve your running back's luck, including wearing the same gym socks you wore when you won the eighth grade 100 meter dash back in 1981.

LT plays well. Not great, but good. You are fine with that. Hey, you think, let's take it slow. No need to rush into anything. You have all season to get to know each other.

Week two, more of the same. Consistency is the key. Your palms no longer sweat, but you still are nervous for your big play guy. You've seen enough to know that he is going to score you points. No need to worry so much.

Week three. There are good plays and bad plays. You seem to have become comfortable with each other. You no longer marvel at LT's breakaway speed or power. You feel guilty that you sometimes think about switching channels to another game.

Slowly, the weeks go by. Sometimes you daydream about what it would be like to start another running back in LaDainian's place. And then, on LT's bye week, you do.

For one week, you flirt with a younger, stronger back. There is almost no guilt. Almost.

But the next week, you go back to your routine. It is too difficult to change, and LT has meant so much to your team...He is your starter for the rest of the year.

Before you know it, the season is over, and you have won the Ultimate Man's League Championship. A glowing virtual trophy rests in your virtual trophy case as virtual proof of your virtual hard work. And you know in your heart of hearts, it is all because of LaDainian.

But the magic is gone.

Things begin to change. Football season comes to an end. The music is less angel voices now, more Fifty Cent in a crack alley. The fragrance is less lavender beer, and more mildew, which you forgot to scrape out of the garbage cans in the garage when you finally threw your lucky gym socks away.

There are months of silence. Eventually, you forget about your RB1. You barely cross paths now. But on the rare occasions when you do, nothing is said. You just go your own ways. 

But you are not sad. You know deep down that each of you has taken the brief moments of fantasy football joy you shared and turned them into a fantasy football highlights reel that plays comfortably in your head like a NFL Films documentary recorded from broadcast television onto a decade old VHS tape.

Then, as your heart is just about healed, summer comes, and with it another draft day.

He is there of course. On the cover of all the glossy magazines, listed first in all of the rankings.

But for you, the allure is gone.

Still, you remember with a smile the good times. Hey LT, remember that TD pass you threw last year? Gosh, we got some laughs out of that, didn't we?

Then the hat is passed around and you pick your draft number.

Not number one.

Oh well, that's life, you say to yourself with a chuckle.

Beside you, another owner is pumping his fist in the air. You reminisce about that feeling of luck and joy and hope. It was nice, you think. But so long ago.

So very long ago.

As you hear LaDainian Tomlinson's name called first, you can't help but smile. Good for you LT, you say. I wish you well, buddy. I really do.

And then you turn back to the task at hand.

And wonder if maybe Randy Moss will slip to you at number seven...