This past week my friends and I packed our bags and headed up to Cape Cod for our fantasy football draft, or ‘destination draft,’ as we coined it. We first considered the idea of a destination draft towards the end of last summer. We all thought it would be cool to all meet up and rage a few days prior to the draft. Let me tell you, that is exactly what we did. Now, after countless beers, and many heated arguments, we’re back home.

We drafted our teams on the third night of our visit. My one friend, Terry, has a house up on the cape. Naturally, we all crammed into the tiny beach house for three days. The draft itself was tense, and featured a great deal of banter. What’s a fantasy league without throwing some shade, though? Name a league that doesn’t have constant banter. After about an hour and a half the draft was completed. All the players’ names were on the board while everyone gazed on in analysis. All in all, the draft was great, it always is. However, the time leading up to the draft was even better.

Within minutes of arriving at the house, I was shamefully iced. If you don’t know what getting ‘iced’ is I highly suggest looking it up. After slugging that girly drink I grabbed a beer and started anticipating the others’ arrival. Wouldn’t you know, the rest of the boys pulled into the driveway shortly after me. Not too long after, everyone was drinking and having a good time. We broke out Spikeball, which is always sure to evoke some yelling and unnecessary expletives. Going into town and eating dinner pretty much wrapped up Monday night.

The following day, the boys packed the cooler with some crisp beers, threw in some fresh ice, and hit the beach. We spent a few hours there and although the sun was being shy and kept poking in and out of the clouds all day, the water was perfect. The familiar greenish blue water was just the right temperature, and we immediately began tossing the football. Later that night, we sent it up to Fenway Park to see a Red Sox game. We sat—no stood—up on the right field porch. Neglecting to pay attention to regular seats and standing room only, Terry bought standing room tickets. But hey, it was a beautiful night at Fenway Park; it wound up being an awesome view. The bright orange sky was littered with long, lustrous clouds. After some drinks, we partook in singing Sweet Caroline, badly of course. Who would’ve thought, a bunch of Yankees and Mets fans singing the Red Sox anthem? It was an awesome night, to say the least.

The third day was another beach day. We packed the cooler, brought the chairs and just laid in the sun for a few hours. Except for a few of my friends who weren’t feeling too hot (use your imagination). Some of the boys flaked and went back to the house, but my friends Mike, Matt, and I remained. We baked in the sun, drank some beer and soaked in the New England summer. Soon after, the draft commenced.

Ultimately, the three days were a blast. We got ample beach time, misbehaved a bit, and got our draft in. Even though we set out for the cape to draft, the time spent with the boys was what I really wanted. Because I was leaving for school soon, I definitely wanted to make sure I could get one last bender with the guys. Don’t get me wrong, the draft was great, but sometimes it’s the things that lead up to the main event, rather than the occasion itself. Until next time, destination draft.