My Fantasy Sport Can Kick Your Fantasy Sport's Ass Part 1

So anyways, I guess it's time to come clean. I am, for all intents and purposes, a huge honking dork. There, I've said it. Maybe you've said it from time to time as well. Which, I've got to say, stings more than just a little bit. I forgive you, though because for the last 11 years, I've dedicated a good portion of my free time to sitting behind a computer screen, living a secret double life as an idealized version of myself. I'm not the only person guilty of engaging in a little escapist fun either. Every time I sign onto my Facebook account, I find myself besieged by requests from friends to join their mob. It's weird, as I didn't even know that half of my friends were Italian, let alone Mafiosa. I get requests from would-be farmers, asking me to aide them in fertilizing their fields, yet when I go through the trouble of hitching a ride to their house, dropping trou' and popping a squat on their yard, law enforcement is quick to arrive at the scene. "What's the deal?", I'll shriek. "Look, if you let me go, I guarantee that I can help turn state's evidence on some genuine mobsters... I'm pretty sure that I've got an in." After getting out of lockup, I'll head to a bar and incredulously listen as grown men ,who upon first inspection appear to be nothing more than rough hewn factory workers and mechanics wax poetic about how well the Dallas Cowboys are doing under their management.

Then, I go home, thankful to be away from such insanity. Moments later, I'll fire up the ol' Dell and lose myself in a world of seedy dive bars, sweat stained canvas and epic battles between good and evil. I, Matt... Am now, and have been for the last 11 years, an E-Fed wrestler. For over a decade a pudgy, hardnosed brawler from Connecticut who goes by the name of Matt McDervish has entertained the virtual crowds. He's fought for twenty dollars in front of a few dozen rednecks in a parking lot, he's sold out the fictional Steeplechase Arena in an alternate version of NYC, he's traveled to the very depths of hell in order to save his father's soul. He's found love, lost it, found it again, learned to balance a career and fatherhood and made peace with the inner demons that had threatened to consume his very being. He's engaged in a menage trois with with robot buddy and a nymphomaniac outpatient. He's fought tooth and nail against Cyborg Hitler.

All, while I've sat here, red eyed and exhausted, clicking away at the keyboard. I've missed parties, blown off dates and eschewed sleep just to continue a never-ending, always weaving, ever-changing tale of an underdog grappler with more stones than brains. I tell myself that there's a method to the madness. A rhyme to my reason. Some sort of sensible solution to this activity that crossed the line from quirky hobby to shameful obsession ages ago. My writing's gotten better, I'll admit. Hell, it should have, seeing as how 95% of the game is based upon storytelling. And not just your own stories, either. Your character becomes public domain within the confines of the game. Anything can happen and you just have to roll with the changes or get buried. Hell, because of one line in another person's post, Matt went three months as a sufferer of erectile dysfunction... With hilarious results.

My temper's gotten better too. A lot of times, we as humans tend to get furious, feeling control of our destiny slipping between our fingers. Thanks to McDervish, I seldom feel that way. I've had a hard day at work? No problem. I'll just vent through some creative writing and have Matt encounter a certain regional manager in a dark alley. As ridiculous and lame as it may sound, creative writing has been a source of amazing catharsis over the years. When I have a problem in real life, I just have McDervish experience it. In that little fishbowl, in the microcosm of the universe that I can control, solutions open up to me.

I've picked up other skills as well... For example, about ten years ago, I knew next to nothing about graphic design. Since I first logged onto www.wrassle.net, I was amazed at the astoundingly professional looking avatars that people would display next to their posts. Little by little, I learned the tricks of the trade... My first pictures were abysmal and laughable... But, over time I got good enough that people would IM me in the dead of night asking ME to throw something together for them... And I was only too happy to oblige.

That's why, when you look at this site, you'll notice that it at times, can be fairly graphic heavy. Most are rush jobs, but all are done by yours truly on my adobe photoshop. I've wrassle to thank for that skill. Which, by the way is a skill that any of you can take advantage of. Want a niftier facebook pic than every one else? Let me know. Well, it's getting late, guys... And I've got a match.


TBC