By Kim J. Harmon

Y

ou think you got problems? What – worried about that first day of school? Wondering where the heck the summer went because the only vacation you took was a weekend camping trip in a place that would adequately be described as Mosquito Hell? Just found out your daughter is getting married to a guy with more jewelry hanging off his face that Filene’s has in its display case?

Nah – I’ve got problems.

I have the No. 1 pick in the draft.

I know, I can hear you right now – what draft? what the heck is he talking about? who cares? my daughter is getting married to a guy with a pierced WHAT? – but I’ve got more important fish to fry than to worry about your little problems.

The No. 1 pick.

Fantasy football.

Got it?

As I write this, the draft is seven hours and 32 minutes away and that’s how long I have to make a decision.

Who is it going to be?

Ever since our Fantasy Football League had a pre-picking of draft position and I was graced with the top pick, I have been wondering if this is, in fact, a curse rather than a blessing. What if I make a horrible mistake? What if my pick gets hurt, like Terrell Davis did to the poor schlep who picked him No. 1 in 1999? Who is going to be left when the draft rotation gets back to me, at No. 24 and No. 25?

I’ve got problems.

But there are hundreds of guys in town who are going through similar pains this week.

Women – if your husbands or boyfriends have been less attentive than they usually are (if that’s possible), then it’s because he has his nose stuck in a magazine (I’ve found the best to be Street & Smith’s and not Sports Illustrated as others would have you think) trying to find out if the New Orleans Saints run a 4-3 or a 3-4 defense or whether or not Edgerrin James has gold-plated any more of his teeth, which could be a sign of a big season. If he has been stuck on the computer for the last 34 consecutive hours it’s because he has been trying to confirm that Fred Lane of the Carolina Panthers really was shot by his wife and won’t be starting in the big game against the Washington Redskins this weekend.

If the only time he talks to you it’s to ask, “Honey, is it going to be Jay Fiedler or Damon Huard in Miami?” then you know.

These are crucial decisions, you know. One slip up and – BOOM – you’re road pizza. Tell that to the guy who picked Jake Plummer (9 TD, 24 INT) last year thinking the Snake was the next great one.

Then again, that guy already knows.

Sure, this is a nerve-wracking time of year – after all, the team you pick now is the team you’re pretty much stuck with through January because, much like the NFL, player movement is generally rare in most fantasy leagues.

But it’s also fun. Football, like no other sport, finds a way to involve so many people in so many different ways. Sure, people play basketball and people play baseball and people even play hockey on a totally amateur level, but with football it’s not just about playing (be it Flag or Touch or whatever), it’s about fully immersing yourself in the experience.

It’s watching it on television.

It’s picking teams on those little white slips of paper or calling your bookie (both activities are illegal, of course, and are not condoned here at all mostly because I have never, ever, won money on one of those stupid slips).

It’s entering any one of the hundreds of fantasy pools seen in magazines or on the internet.

It’s joining a Fantasy Football League.

Okay, more people play basketball than football, but only a really hard-core basketball fan will join a league (if he can find one). Baseball is America’s past time, but Rotisserie Leagues are for stat freaks and not the casual fans. And if there is a hockey fantasy league somewhere, I haven’t heard of it.

No, football is where it’s at.

And football is right now.

Which brings me to my ever-present dilemna (as the draft is now just seven hours and four minutes away) and that is – who the heck am I going to pick? I know I’m going to go with my first instinct, the guy whose name popped into my head the very second I found out I had the No. 1 pick, but what if I’m wrong?

Peyton Manning: Threw for 26 touchdowns and better than 4,000 yards last year and has one of the most dangerous targets – Marvin Harrison – in the NFL to throw to. The Colts are a better team on offense this year and Manning’s numbers could get even better. He’s consistent. He’s solid. And he probably won’t get hurt.

But what if I’m missing out on Marshall Faulk of the St. Louis Rams, who gained more than 2,400 total yards with 87 catches and 12 touchdowns a year ago? He is sure to go No. 2 in our draft – and what if he is a better pick?

I’m torn. Right now – six hours and 58 minutes from draft time – I’m about 90 percent sure I’m going with Manning. The news has probably already been leaked to the other teams in the league, not that it makes a whit of difference to most of the teams since Manning would never have sunk further than No. 4 anyway, but I’m not afraid of throwing a monkey wrench into the process.

Women – if your husband or boyfriend looks particularly troubled this week, as if he has a stomach problem and is wondering if it was that bean burrito he had for lunch at the gas station down the road, then you know what he’s thinking about.

Football.

Peyton Manning.

Road pizza.

P.S – I am fully aware that women also play fantasy football and even participated in a league in which a woman was a team owner, but I am also cognizant of the fact that it is generally the men who would want to waste their time with such a pointless – but fun – endeavor as fantasy football. Thank you and good night.