Obsessed with WoW

“Show me a good and gracious loser and I’ll show you a failure.”
Knute Rockne
(American football player and coach)

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Obsessed with WoW

“Brother Wrath, you play too much WoW. It is addicting. You pay fifteen dollars a month. I can’t believe you raid for three hours at a time. That has to be too much.”

Wait a sec.

Let’s say that it’s Monday night. On the way home from work, you pick up a pizza and a six pack of beer for Monday Night Football. Normal, right? Let’s say that it is a humble cheese pizza and the pizza is ten dollars and the beer is six dollars. And there are four Monday nights in a month.

Buddy, you have quadrupled my WoW budget.

Of course, there is Sunday. Three games, friends over, pizza, beers, nachos, Buffalo wings and a lot of fun, for sure. Depending on time zone; from 11 am to 10 pm.

Pal, you starting drinking before noon.

Let’s look at Fantasy Football. A typical (98% losers) fan is throwing away their money into the toilet. You never meet someone who has won money, they always “know a guy”. It is a billion dollar industry based on individual player’s statistics. A couple of years ago, a football game with two losing teams had a higher television rating than the World Series.

Amigo, you are watching bad games and throwing cash at the screen.

Fantasy Football players have 24 hour apps. They have shifting odds, stats, injury reports that change on an hourly basis. Your husband, neighbor, co-worker is starting his Fantasy Football day at 5am and trading players before the deadline.

Brother, you are not a player in the game — you are watching on the couch.

WoW players are active in the game. They play. They are not passive. They are not stupidly throwing away money on gambling (now, there is an addiction!). Football fans are great, I love football. Still; before you call me addicted, before you call me obsessed, before you call me at all: look in the mirror!

I was at the Super Bowl years ago. It was Green Bay vs Denver. I saw this fan, a woman, spot another fan. She said, “Green Bay, G is for God, baby!”

Scared the hell out of me.

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