The Evil Empire's New Clothes: Am I Missing Something About Joba?

While my participation in fantasy sports was born sometime in the last decade, in retrospect I think I’ve been subscribing to the concept and principles of fantasy as early as age 10.   Once a year. November 1. The Candy Draft.   The day after Halloween, my sisters and I would convene to build our fantasy sugar rosters, and being the oldest and most ridiculous, I took it too seriously. I’d manage to deal my Necco wafers for Snickers, Raisonettes for Peanut Butter Cups. And my first round pick, the Carl Crawford of junk food, was always my KitKats. There was nothing I could be offered in exchange for them.   My sisters, being younger and normal, would commence eating their candy as soon as they could, but I wanted to keep trade talks alive for days, sometimes weeks. The result of this? I held onto my KitKats for so long and refused to move them, to the point where they were either melted or covered in stale powder.   Then they were about as useful to m...