Hey, Dad - we are the champions

At 11 p.m. Christmas Eve, the results were official: I won my fantasy football league championship.

I was happy, of course. I won bragging rights with some of my best friends. There's pride and money involved.

But I was sad, too, and feeling a little empty.

My father, my partner ever since I started "playing" fantasy football, is not around to celebrate with me. He died in April 2005. And football season has not been the same since.

It was the time of year when I would call home to talk to Dad several times a week - even several times a day. He didn't have a computer or cable TV, so I'd have to keep him updated on our results.

It was the time of year when Mom would answer the phone, and I'd say, "Hi. Is Dad there? It's a business call." Mom would act all hurt and proclaim: "I can't wait until this is over - you never want to talk to me anymore." Then she'd fake pout and hand the phone to my father.

It was the time of year I cherished the most as a kid, watching football every Sunday with Dad in our tiny family room. He'd sit in his chair, and I'd serve him frozen pizza and 7 UP. I missed that connection during college and after I moved away for my first job. Years later, our fantasy team would make Sundays special again.

We won fantasy championships back in 1993 and '94. Over the years, we'd draft together (Dad was in Cleveland with my friends; I was in Cincinnati). He'd keep a folder next to his recliner with our team's information. He'd often give me a hard time for picking players he had never heard of.

Together we bemoaned our bad fortunes (injuries, poor trades) and relished our successes. This sounds silly, especially since fantasy football is so reliant on luck, but I always felt bad when our team wasn't any good, like I had let Dad down somehow.

This season our team lost its first game by two points, then won 15 in a row (thank you, Tom Brady). I could almost feel Dad's excitement every week. In 2005, my friends named the league's mythical championship hardware the "Oscar Perry Memorial Trophy" in honor of my dad. I wanted to win this season for him. I did not want to let him down.

I called my brother Steve a few weeks ago and told him "we" were going to the championship game. "Who's 'we'?" he asked. "Did you get another partner?"

"No," I said. "Dad's my partner."

Always will be.

Michael Perry, Managing Editor of Non-Daily Products, has to brag about this team - his CiN Weekly fantasy team stunk and didn't even make the playoffs.