My sister got a book for Christmas this year, touting the plethora of life lessons one can learn from dogs. Granted, she and her family do have two dogs, and have always been a pet family, if you will. But not the militant, “you’d better freakin’ worship / buy my dog a Christmas sweater /  financially support every orphaned pet on the planet, or you’re a scumbag hater that I’m reporting to PETA” sort of pet owner, like some I have the distinct displeasure to know.

I also acknowledge lessons can be picked up in most arenas of life, yes, even including from our four-legged canine brethren. And it appears there is proof in the pudding, so to speak. A quick amazon search produces books on the topic of learning lessons in life from a freethinking dog, from a therapy dog, from a sheep dog, from stray dogs, sled dogs, dogs on a train, dogs on a plane, in the park, after dark. OK, OK, I’ve suddenly morphed into quoting some odd version of a Dr. Seuss’s Life Lessons from Dogs book here.

To be fair, there are also actual, listed, published books on learning life skills from countless other perspectives. Lessons from wise sages such as Nelson Mandela or John Wooden or even Steve Jobs? Absolutely welcomed! Life lessons from a monastery? Sure, there are insights to be gained, certainly. Lessons to learn from some unknown, self-proclaimed horse whisperer? Yeah, OK, I guess I can see that. But … lessons on life, love and other things learned from an insect or from ‘slasher films’? Not kidding. Yeah, I’m gonna need you to walk away from the computer now, Mr. Book Writer.

But back to my point, if we’re picking up life skills from our pets—or slasher movies!—why not from fantasy football? We’re all playing it anyhow, spending more time researching players, setting lineups and reading articles like this one than we do eating, sleeping and communicating with our loved ones. Combined. Why, then, not analyze what we do and utilize the applications from our fake football activities into our daily lives … all with concepts beginning with the letter “P”, of course. Because we all know words that start with “P” connote greater intelligence from the author of the article.  

Preparation

We’ve covered some of this before, but truly, what elements make up a fantasy football winner? That’s not a rhetorical question. Simply put, besides luck—which we’ll just avoid altogether for the sake of this story—it takes preparedness. Statistical analysis, trend research and calculated prognostication are encouraged and supported. Outwork your opponent. Outthink him or her.

Think ahead to the week 10 bye his quarterback has, and consider picking up Andy Dalton, simply so he can’t as a replacement. Leave no stone uncovered.

Spike her drink at the draft. Wait. That’s for another column. The point is, if you don’t plan, you’ll fail. If you don’t know where you’re going, you’ll never get there. If you don’t wear clean underwear, how will they ever know when you have a car accident?

OK, that one IS a rhetorical question. Really, if you don’t do your legwork up on the new company, will you even make it past your initial “Hi, my name is … “ part of the sales presentation?

For your big final in Ethics class, what are the chances of passing, without studying dutifully? Doubtful, and doubtful. And in this case, you’ll definitely want that clean underwear.

Patience

I know my dynasty league brothers and sisters are offering up a hearty “Cheers!” as they raise their glass to me on this concept. Patience is beyond just a virtue; it’s vital for those dynasty owners. This past year, I took a flier on a young, uber-talented, but still raw wide receiver, Cordarrelle Patterson of the Vikings with a late round pick in a couple of my partial keeper leagues.

Through his first eight games, he averaged a whopping two catches, 18 yards and less than two fantasy points per game. Yikes. Admittedly, I didn’t draft him to be an immediate starter for my teams, but I still hoped for some production as he could act as a bye week replacement, etc. I promptly dropped him.

Had I exercised a little patience, I would have reaped some benefit; in weeks 14 through 17, Patterson averaged 16 standard league fantasy points per game (and almost 20 in PPR leagues).

And I would have him to hang onto for next year’s team. But, as fantasy football often replicates life, I didn’t wait. In my life, my lack of patience cost me that date with Donna in the 11th grade. She told me later she wanted to dump Steven for me, but I didn’t wait for her. So, now I have to see her Facebook posts of partying with balding, overweight dudes.

Sigh. I really did, however, likely miss out on an international career at my first corporate job, because I wasn’t patient enough to let the process run its course. My buddy Chris is now a millionaire several times over, and living in places like Taipai and Bali. I’m presently in a scenario where I AM choosing to be patient on a goldmine career opportunity. Ask me in six months if it paid off. It looks promising, certainly, and I’d absolutely not be in this position had I not waited thusfar.

Prowess

In life, confidence can make up for lack of knowledge or skill for a long, long spell. How many people do you know that have “faked it til they maked it”? Well, um, you know what I mean, even as I botch the past tense version of the phrase. There’s a gal I worked with several years back that keeps reinventing herself in new business endeavors, rather financially successful, I might add. I don’t happen to agree with all her morals or business standards, but I DO respect the hell out of how she isn’t afraid of displaying a little—ok, a LOT of—prowess.

Her moxie has literally allowed her to overcome a myriad of initial shortcomings in her career, inviting others to take stock in what she does and has to say. In fantasy, I know we reference talking smack a good bit, giving your fantasy opponent the business (verbally, of course, as well as in the boxscore), and peacocking amongst your league opponents.

I know I encourage it as part of the whole fantasy experience. I embrace it as part of the culture. Essentially, these are simply outer expressions of inward confidences. So in life and on Sunday mornings, bow up, pound that chest—ladies, you may want to go a different route here, and do your best Mel Gibson impression. From Braveheart. Not from The Beaver.

Persistence

Personally, I have played in one league for 10 years now, with essentially the same crew of 12 friends. We know each other well, so we can and do talk plenty of smack. We’re competitive. We try to rip off one another in trades. For example, I might try to offer him my Darren Sproles (I know he loves his Saints) for his Julio Jones (I know he hates those Dirty Birds in Atlanta) in an even swap.

The bottom line here is that we keep plugging away. There’s one owner in this league, we’ll call him Bill, who has been a league member from day one, but has yet to even sniff the playoffs! A couple years back, we issued a league mandate that he change his team name to We Like It, We Love It, We Want Mora Of It, as a salute to the timeless rant by former Colts head coach Jim Mora, regarding his team’s prospects of making the NFL playoffs.

If you’ve not seen it, check it out here...it’s a classic. Yet, Bill and his lovable loser Mora’s come back for more year after year. Actually, a couple of those years, I’ve publicly stated I thought he had the team to beat from his post-draft lineup. It just wasn’t in the cards for him. But he’s persistent; and in life, you’ve likely heard it said that half of the battle is just showing up. So, show up, my fantasy siblings. In life and in fantasy football. Keep getting out of bed every morning, turning on the coffee and heading out to work or school or … onto the couch to join that Madden ‘14 tourney. It’s worth the journey.

This was a rather fun exercise, looking at life lessons, with relation to my fantasy football affliction. For me, anyhow, it’s better than trying to conjure up lessons to be learned from a green-thumbed gardener or watching Freddy vs. Jason or even observing the yappy Yorkshire Terrier next door. But I don’t hate dogs, y’all. Really.