I remember when I first came in contact with Fantasy Golf.  I was eight years old on the boardwalk of the Jersey Shore and my grandmother and I were at a makeshift tiki hut where a teenager was handing out clubs.  I held a golf club up to my waist — perfect size!  The teenager then handed me a scorecard, a mini pencil and, finally, a golf ball, but it slipped through my little fingers and started bouncing down the boardwalk. I gave chase and, right as I was about to reach the bouncing ball, tripped and the mini golf pencil went through the palm of my hand. Now, whenever I have to sign anything, I just turn my hand over and scribble with the back of my hand.  *intern whispers in my ear*  I’m told Fantasy Golf is not mini putt-putt where you play wearing a wizard’s pointed hat and try to avoid getting your ball in the dragon’s moat.  That is a shame.  Well, in that case, what are we doing?  *intern whispers in my ear*  Uh-huh.  *intern whispers in my ear*  Right.  *intern whispers in my ear*  And… *intern whispers in my ear*  Okay, okay, stop.  I don’t have a clue about Fantasy Golf.  Like zero clues.  Like I’m in an elevator and Professor Plum, Colonel Mustard and Mrs. White all get on and I still have no clue.  (That is almost as strained as every analogy Tom Verducci makes in the announcer’s booth of the World Series.  “These managers will need to be more imaginative than Stephen King!”  Apparently, Harold Reynolds’s stupid is rubbing off.)  Since I had no idea, I asked our Fantasy Golf ‘pert, Joe MacDonald (who I believe was the villain on Happy Gilmore) to explain it, and here’s what he said:

Please, blog, may I have some more?