Wife Has Yearly Sit-Down With Children

Ann Arbor, MI – Beth Cannon, wife of avid fantasy football player Russ Cannon, recently gathered her three children–Matthew, 12, Jimmy, 9, and Alyssa, 6–in the den for the annual "Why Daddy Is Going Away Again" talk, sources reported Sunday.

As in previous years, the talk was deemed necessary due to the impending arrival of yet another season of the Ann Arbor Fantasy Football League, of which Mr. Cannon is co-commissioner.

"But why is daddy going away, mommy?" asked a teary-eyed Alyssa, when her mother explained that they wouldn’t be seeing their father for the next five months. "Is he dead and going to heaven like Grandma, and like Smuckers?"

Fighting the urge to say that Russ would, essentially, soon be as dead to them as the aforementioned fox terrier, she pulled her dough-eyed, pigtailed daughter onto her lap and explained the situation as best she could.

"No, honey," Cannon replied while gently stroking Alyssa’s head, and calmly explained the situation. "Daddy’s not going to heaven–he’ll just be down in the basement for fall and winter. He’ll be unbathed, wild-eyed, swearing, giggling, crying, laughing, and occasionally soiling himself. He’ll watch ESPN Gameday, NFL Sunday Ticket, ESPN Sunday night football, Monday Night Football, and Sportscenter twenty-four hours a day. And he’ll also be on the Internet, making trades, chatting with the other daddys in fantasy football forums, getting injury information, and making lineup decisions. And then he’ll do it all over again the next week, and the next, and the next."

Cannon continued, as the expressions of fear and confusion grew on the faces of her three children. "Daddy will do this until he goes cross-eyed and clinically insane, and his hair, beard, finger- and toenails will grow until he reaches a feral state…and what does ‘feral’ mean?"

"Wolf-like," the children sadly answered in unison.

"Very good. And when daddy finally becomes ‘wolf-like’ sometime around January 31st, that’s when we call the EMTs. Remember when the fun ambulances came last season, and made their sirens real loud, and the men in white coats dragged daddy out of the basement while sticking him with electric cattle prods?"

Middle son Jimmy nodded. "I remember. Daddy looked like Bigfoot. He was growling, and had big yellow teeth, and was screaming about some men named ‘Culpepper’ and ‘Fragile Fred,’ and he bit that man in the white jacket."

She pulled Jimmy close to her and whispered. "I’ll tell you what–if you’re good, I’ll let you do the food bucket this year. Would you like to be in charge of daddy’s food bucket this year?"

Upon hearing that he would be handed this crucial fantasy football responsibility–carefully lowering a paint bucket filled with cold beer, pretzels, cheddar cheese Combos®, nachos, Fritos®, more beer, mini Snickers®, seven-layer bean dip, hot wings, and several pounds of raw ground beef down the laundry chute on a rope–the little boy sniffled once, and nodded.

In years past, the snack-lowering process has been the sole responsibility of eldest son Matthew. But he was only too happy to pass the job onto his younger brother.

"Lots of times, dad’s team isn’t doing so hot, and if you lower the bucket at the wrong time he’ll sometimes grab the rope and pull you down the chute. It’s real scary down there. He makes you watch, like, a hundred TVs, and he’s got colored paint all over his body, and is wearing a rainbow wig, and has charts and graphs and spreadsheets all over the walls and floors."

"Also," Matthew went on, "he swears a lot, and throws stuff, and yells ‘Fucking TD-vulturing Alstott!’ or ‘No! No! A holding penalty keeps Harrison under 100 yards, you goddamn cocksucker ref!’ I’m glad Jimmy has to do the bucket this year."

While there were some bumps, Mrs. Cannon thought this year’s talk went rather smoothly. "The kids were sad to lose their father again, but they’re getting older now, so I think they understand what happens to Russ during fantasy football season, and that it’s for the best."

Cannon added: "I just hope he doesn’t escape into the woods after the season like he did back in ’98. It took Animal Control four days to find him."

As of press time, Russ Cannon was already half-naked in his basement bunker preparing for his upcoming draft, and was unavailable for comment.

The Cannon basement in the tranquil offseason.

Russ Cannon prior to 2001 fantasy football season.

Russ Cannon, during 2001 Ann Arbor league playoffs.