Patience has not come easily to me in this life.
I was pushed ahead two grades when I was in grade school (in addition to having a late October birthday), meaning I was always two-plus years younger than all my classmates. And, no matter how I may have been able to compete intellectually with those older and wiser, emotionally I was still just that much behind.
As we know, the subtleties of age dissipate with said commodity: that is, as we get older, the gap of understanding and experience between years doesn't matter so much. However, the difference between being eight and ten as far as the sophistication of worldliness is huge: so unlike that say, between being 48 and 50 years of age.
I like to think I have slowed down over the years. I attribute a lot of my ability to quell the reactive portion of my nature to my late son, Joey, who endured some serious birth anomalies, and a limited existence of external abilities. Joey couldn't walk or talk, and was in diapers and a wheel chair for all of his 22 seasons, but the reality was you could only go as fast as Joey as in you will only go as fast as your slowest component can go.
If we were ready to go out, and Joey had a sysout in his diaper, everything stopped until that was handled. Those of you who have dealt with babies know exactly what I am talking about, the difference being Joey's body stayed in the perpetual baby state for all of his life.
What this did, however, was force me to slow down, and take a deep breath, take a look around, and not necessarily react to things in life.
OK, laugh if you will. Sure, there are other more important aspects of my life that Joey, and the patience he dragged in his slipstream provided, but, one of the sweet byproducts of this learning was to make me more patient with my players and teams and rosters in fantasy games.
Sure, I do fall victim to that urge we get when our closer gives up eight runs with two out in the ninth, not just blowing a save, but our collective WHIP and ERA in the process.
But, thanks to Joey, I can hang onto the likes of Mark Trumbo, as the season and a few games usually are not so much to stir my desire to cut players from my teams.
Obviously, while this is good in some ways, being active over the first few weeks of a season--baseball and football, anyway--but, especially in football, it is so hard to get a feel for who is going to do what after just three games.
For example, I find myself the owner of Derek Carr, Amari Cooper, Carlos Hyde and Matt Jones, in some form of every league in which I play and for the most part, I have been unable to play any of them at the right time, let alone know they will pick it up as the season goes forth.
I look and see all the transactions my football league mates make, and other than little tweaks like dumping Mohamed Sanu for Eric Ebron wherever I could, I feel better just letting the guys I have see what they can do.
I do remember that last year I drafted Tre Mason around the 19th round of my Kathy League Gifford draft, but he did little those first weeks and it was bye week and I dumped him. In the end, my team was lousy and I dropped Mason, whom I would have been able to freeze in the 16th round this year.
So, this year, I am trying to remember what I learned from Joey. Take a breath.
The fact that Trumbo has posted a .266-13-41 line for my $82 in FAAB doesn't really help. But, it doesn't hurt, either.