My family is very sports-oriented. One of the manifestations of this is that each year we are involved in fantasy teams and pools and such. For as long as I can remember my dad and my uncle have picked the NFL games, and when my brothers were old enough they joined in. Being the only girl, I wanted to be involved too. So when fantasy leagues started becoming popular, our family decided to create a private fantasy baseball league for ourselves and I jumped in. The way it worked was that whoever won the NCAA tournament that year got first draft pick in fantasy baseball. Well, we did that for a couple of years and then I WON. After that, fantasy baseball was dropped. My brother Barry cried that the draft was unfair that year, but I know he’s just having a hard time accepting the fact that I am, indeed, a fantasy baseball master.

The way it stands today is that our family picks the college football bowl games with each other, and also the NCAA basketball tournament, which is of course going on right now. This year, my uncle won the bowl games, but I CAME IN SECOND, beating out my entire immediate family. Currently, I am in last place in our NCAA pool, but I still have a lot of points remaining and I am the only one who picked the team that I picked to win the entire thing – so I still have a chance. And things are getting serious now! There is a trophy:

This trophy is soon to be mailed to my uncle for winning the college bowl pick ’em, and then it will be transferred to the winner of the NCAA tournament after July 4. I have to say…I want it bad.

My dad is excited about it, too. After he showed it to me last night, he said, “Just think, Kat. When you and your brothers get married your spouses can participate too!” And then, abruptly, “But we may have to drop you. You won’t have our family name anymore.”

“Dad! That’s not fair!”

“I don’t know, Kat, the trophy has our name on it, and that won’t be your name anymore.”

“But I will always be part of the family!”

“We’ll have to see what the jury decides.”

I think my dad is just simultaneously dreading and elated about the possibility of me getting married at anytime in the next twenty years. It’s cute and all, but I don’t appreciate being threatened with disownment. (I think I just made up that word.) For now, I’ll just try to prove myself while I am still definitively a part of this family.