At the risk of sounding like a Clint Eastwood character, I’ve been playing Fantasy Baseball for 25 years. In my first league, we sent (weekly) transactions and received (weekly) standings via fax. Fax(!). In those days, the draft was held in the back room of a neighborhood bar, there was probably a giant draft board and we blocked out a whole afternoon, if not the day, to draft our teams (and then review them at the bar afterward).
Guys most often drafted with only the guidance of a months-old magazine; there were only a handful of games broadcast nationally every week (Hey guys, Ken Griffey Jr. is up!!); “BABIP” was how your buddy pronounced Steve Balboni’s name after 8 hours of Coors Lights down his gullet.
And the draft was everything.
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