Draft day in fantasy world

The clock’s rolling up toward six in evening on the last Sunday in August. Eleven of Michael Cascio’s buddies are over. He has a problem. A few, actually.

Cascio is struggling to straighten out his Internet connection to his group’s fantasy football draft room at cbssports.com. The guys are growing restless as empty Bud Lights, Miller Lites and Bass Ale bottles start piling up in the recycling bin.

He’s also worried about the last round of chicken leg quarters on one of multiple grills going out back. The guys have already plowed through a round of bacon-wrapped and jalapeno-and-cream-cheese-stuffed duck breasts and a batch of identically prepared shrimp one of the guys brought and cooked up. The picked-over remains of the first round of barbecued chicken lie savaged on the kitchen counter.

Cascio, the commissioner of this 5-year-old local league of football-crazed gentlemen, has converted his dining room into a war room for the night. Two folding tables flank the dining table to create a shallow U facing a wall. A paper chart to track the draft’s progress is taped up for all to see.

During 17 weeks of the NFL season, the real-life statistics generated by the quarterbacks, running backs, receivers and kickers these guys draft tonight will determine how their fantasy teams will perform.  Points are based on completions, receptions, yards gained, field goals and touchdowns, with points subtracted for negatives like interceptions or fumbles lost.

In the Cascio dining room/draft HQ, everything is ready for the draft as the clock ticks on. Most of the league members are either friends going back to high school days or guys who have coached high school and amateur teams against each other.

These days, Cascio works for a homebuilder. His brother Mark coaches at Catholic High School of Pointe Coupee. The other guys here are teachers, business owners and health care professionals.

They do have one thing in common, though: They’ve done their research. They all have a laptop open and running. The green lights on Cascio’s wireless router blink furiously under the pressure of the added traffic.

Everything is ready except the commissioner.

“I can’t get into the draft room,” he says to nobody in particular. “I gotta figure this out.”

It’s the first year the league has gone fully computerized. In the past, they recorded the draft on paper and left the commissioner to enter each member of each team into the host Web site. On this day, technology is not being kind to Commissioner Cascio.

But he’s still on top of his game. Without looking up from his laptop screen, he barks an order: “Someone turn the chicken.”

This scene, or something close to it, was repeated maybe a million times across the country in the days and weeks before the NFL season began in mid-September. (OK, so these guys’ bacon-wrapped duck breasts set them apart in the culinary department.)

But all told, 22 million Americans (men mostly) gathered to choose real-world athletes for their fantasy dream teams.

The figure is an estimate by the Fantasy Sports Trade Association, says its president, Paul Charchian. Yes, the industry is big enough to have its own trade association. It actually has two of them, Charchian says.

Fantasy leagues are big business. Players spend $800 million a year on league fees, magazines and subscriptions to premium Web sites that scout and analyze players.

Cascio has paid cbssports.com $150 for the nifty wall chart, hosting the draft and—most importantly—tracking the real-life stats all season for the fantasy players.

22 millionNumber of Americans who participate in fantasy football

5.7 millionNumber who participate in other fantasy leagues

$800 millionAnnual money spent directly on league fees, magazines and analysis services

$600 millionAmount in entry fees paid out as winnings

Other fantasy leaguesBaseball, basketball, golf, hockey, soccer, NASCAR, professional fishing, American Idol, Hollywood box office

The Internet’s arrival revolutionized fantasy sports. It grew from an obscure pastime of the truly obsessed to a national near-obsession. Vast amounts of scouting information has become available online. In the dark days, fantasy players tabulated stats manually and combed out-of-town newspapers for the inside scoop on NFL training camps.

Just as in the real thing, fantasy leagues are big money. Fantasy players nationwide spend another $600 million on league fees—money paid back in winnings. Each of Cascio’s 12 league players put up $160 to enter. The winner will walk away $1,000 richer. (Only 10 were present for draft day—two participated online.)

For league member Travis Uzee, it’s about more than money. It’s something to bring an added level of involvement and excitement to every weekend and almost every game, not matter how mundane.

“Sunday at noon, I’m fired up,” says Uzee, a teacher and coach in Ascension Parish. “It doesn’t matter if it’s the Vikings playing the Bucs.”

Uzee, like every other fantasy player in the country, roots for his players—sometimes against his favorite team. He may need a great performance from a running back playing for the Saints’ opponent.

Uzee, with much of the summer off from work, had plenty of time to devote to draft preparation. “I’ve got a system, but I don’t know if it’s going to pay off.” He says he went though many mock drafts online to project where his hoped-for players would go.

Brandon Deaton owns a flooring business and found himself strapped for time as draft day approached. He ended up downloading a couple of spreadsheets of stats just before the draft, and he spent much of his time at Cascio’s on his preparation, tabbing back and forth between spreadsheets.

As the clock ticks on toward the draft deadline and Cascio works on straightening out the online draft room, the spaces at the tables fill up with league members. The banter increases. They rehash old drafts and reminisce about player injuries. They rag each other for poor picks. They recall sleeper picks that turned out great.

A few minutes before the appointed draft time, Casio looks up from his laptop, relieved. The kinks have been straightened out, and the virtual room is ready for his league members.

As the clock winds down, so does the jocularity, the cross-talk and the storytelling. Eventually, silence. For the first time in a couple of hours, draft headquarters is quiet.

The first pick: Adrian Peterson. A star running back with the Minnesota Vikings, he’s no surprise. He’ll get plenty of carries and pass receptions. Great scoring history. Just a rock-solid pick.

Other fantasy running backs are snapped up, two, three and four: Maurice Jones-Drew, DeAngelo Williams and LaDainian Tomlinson. All solid picks, who—barring injury—should rack up big points for their proud, new owners.

Saints QB Drew Brees goes No. 5. Deadly accurate, lots of completions, a local favorite.

The deeper the draft goes, the louder the chatter gets.

“Tony Gonzales went? When did he go?”

“That’s a good pick.”

“He’s actually 80. He runs his routes with a cane.”

“That guy will have two more DWIs before opening day.”

The Web site periodically announces each new pick in a computerized voice: “You are on the clock.” These fantasy team owners have two minutes each to make their selections before the site picks for them.

After the top running backs go, quarterbacks and wide receivers start filling the wall chart. The first tight end goes in the 5th round, the first kicker in the 11th.

The banter grows, but it’s not all trash talk. Several times during the draft, Alan Brown announces his buyer’s remorse. “I hate my picks!” he says. “I always do this.” Then, someone points out Brown won the league last year.

Sixteen rounds and a few short breaks later, these fantasy owners call it a day.

The draft, though, is just the beginning. Still ahead are weeks of jockeying—dropping the busts, picking up last-chance prospects and even trading.

But that will all be done via the Internet. It’ll be another year before all these guys gather again as a group to trade light insults, drink beer and wolf down bacon-wrapped duck breasts.