It all began innocently enough with a phone call. Although I felt I had drafted well, I was full of doubt. More doubt than the usual "drafters remorse." I compared my draft with those made on this web site and felt okay, but the doubt still lingered. I phoned my brother to see what he thought, but he deferred his opinion to another web site. I thanked him for the information; little knowing this would be the beginning of the end for this fantasy season.

I went to the site to study their mock drafts…they raised doubts I had not considered before. Still full of doubt, yet living on my past, I received the information, filed it under "later" and began the season. Immediately my worse fears began to emerge as truth. Players were not performing as expected, the points were elusive, it just did not feel right. Although I was third in my leagues after the first few weeks, I began to feel the constant gnaw of sheer panic. I again began to search the sites, this time I went to more than just the normal two or three. I needed answers so I spent the next few days researching every site I could find. What I discovered horrified me. Pundits everywhere were questioning my selections. They advised me to trade, dump, play, bench or quit. They said I looked terrible…I agreed. After all, they were experts, I only a mere mortal. By week three I sprang into action.

After a few days of research on-line and off the tube, I began a concerted plan to revamp my entire draft through free agency or trade. Plaxico Burress barely had 150 yards with the future looking bleak, I dump him opting for the Packers, Terry Glenn. It seemed logical. Glenn had a fresh start and Donald Driver had yet to emerge, besides Stewart only has eyes for Hines. With T.J Duckett warming the bench, I traded him for Lamar Smith who seemed to have the starting role in Carolina. I rid myself of William Green in Cleveland, he couldn't even hang onto the ball. There was no future for these guys this year… everyone said so.

Now I felt comfortable with my line up. I had solid people at every position with enough specialty players to fill in the gaps during the off weeks. I usually have a surge of confidence when I have achieved this level of comfort, but something kept nagging at me. The question became, "Who do I play against whom? What are the proper match-ups to maximize my scoring potential? I had always been decisive, now I waffled at every thought.

Once again I doubted myself and sought the advice of the experts. By now I was becoming obsessed with victory at all expense, though now I was losing. I only had one television and computer in my "War Room," I need more information quicker. Without telling anyone, I went to the local Radio Shack and purchased two small black and white AC/DC TV sets. I figured this way I could minimize five or six web sites while I viewed CBS, ESPN and Fox before the beginning of each Sunday. At this point I was still in denial, besides, my wife did not need to know her husband was becoming hopelessly addicted. I was becoming an infoholic.

I woke up at 5 am on that first Sunday and fired up the CPU, it purred on all cylinders. Before my better half was even considering getting out of bed, I had already been on 12 web sites and watched ESPN, The Weather Channel and Fox Sports for three hours. As I heard her rising I stashed the TV's and dumped the history from the computer. I quickly connected with my game sites and tuned into my usual media bill of fare. By the time she walked in for her first cup of coffee, I had already made my changes. As far as she knew, all was normal for the always-stressful Sunday venue.

As pre-game began, I began the day pacing, checking, re-checking, then contemplating my selections for the weekend. By game time I was ready. I reveled in the accomplishments of my players; by the end of the first set of games I was well on my way to a 100-point day with a possible victory, there things cracked. By the end of the day I had scored my 100 points, but lost by a mere 74 points. I was devastated, depressed, disconsolate in desperate search for answers, there could only be one. I had to dig in to dig up more information. I did.

I began by reading every update in Sportsline daily. I actually began to believe things like, "Randy Moss is a must start…he is due for a break out game." I knew on Wednesdays Hector the Projector and Victor the Predictor came out with their pearls of wisdom. I consumed these reports like they were a last meal. I believed every word they had to say. If Bettis was going to have a down week, they knew it…I dropped him. If Brian Griese was going to have a large game, they knew it…he played. With all of the time they spent gathering their information, I knew they had to know it all. Still, there was more information to gather.

I have always been an avid viewer of NFL 2Night on ESPN. The hosts are ex-players with years of experience in analysis. They had to know the playing field better than anyone. Besides their insight was backed with real statistics plus the latest news in team decisions and injuries. I believed they had to know everything. While searching the bill of fare for sports on morning, I noticed the show was replayed at 2 a.m. my time. I began watching the first program with my trusty note pad, then waking up to catch the rerun early the next morning. Since I did not want to disturb the slumber of the family, I began watching it in the War Room. I figured as long as I was here, I should use the half hour to begin doing even more research. I searched, downloaded, watched taking notes in silence with the determination of a bulldog. No one was going to beat me for the rest of the season; I needed to win out in all leagues to make the play-offs. I had one single purpose in life…win at all cost. This too was for naught.

My early morning research was short lived. After a week of sleepless nights on my part, my wife discovered what I was doing on the computer in the room. When I was finally busted I had been reading Melissa Stark's articles. I should have known I was sick when I began to find them insightful, but no. After my spouse pointed it out to me, in no uncertain terms, I realized I had bottomed out. I had reached the dregs of fantasy football. I had placed winning above everything with research as the cornerstone of the gambit. I was hopelessly addicted, cornered, there was no way out. I had to face reality…I was hooked.

When I arrived home that day my wife was waiting for me, so was a counselor and a few close friends. It was a fantasy infoholic intervention. They sat me down and told me how much they cared. They showed how concerned they were for my well-being. They pointed out my addictive behavior was ruining my life, my marriage in addition to my health mentally and physically. Although I chafed at their comments, deep down inside I knew they were right. I had to go "cold turkey" giving up my obsession to win. I had to face I was lost, so was my season. It was enough. I mailed in my line up for the rest of the season, then entered a 12-step program.

I am working hard at coming to grips with my addiction. I no longer have access to the World Wide Web. I am not permitted to view NFL games, not even the Raiders. I can no longer tune in on the latest happenings in the NFL from Mort, but I have had time to reflect. I have realized all of the experts are not really experts. In fact, many of them have never played the game. I also realized what I had lost.

From time to time I have people write me seeking my advice about their fantasy teams. I try to write them as quickly as possible with my best choices given their situation. For the most part I am pretty close to being right. (Frank, I am sorry for advising you to start Curtis Martin against the Raiders.) What I have found is the reason I am fairly close to right, if not almost genius, is because I shoot from the hip with little consultation with any experts. I used my gut feelings. I had lost this confidence with myself.

It is going to be a long off season staying away from the NFL draft, free agent deals and the NFL rumor mill (I understand Dallas has a new coach), but I will be back next year stronger than ever. Next season I will have no doubts about performance in the NFL, no one really knows anything because the variables are too great for any mind to get around. Realizing this, I will draft with abandoned, trade with no trepidation, acquire without fear. Next year I will be a fantasy giant, on top of the world stressed to the max. Next season will be the first season for the rest of my life, I will embrace it with no fear. Addiction can be beat, but not my fantasy team. Fearing to lose is what drove me over the edge, the fear is now gone. Now if I can just stay up on all of the information to insure success, I know I will be okay.