The 27th annual Cliché fantasy baseball draft is barely 50 minutes old, and already Dan Micak, a 28-year-old corporate lawyer and the manager of last year's winning team, the Meat Sox, is making his move. He's betting hard for Cincinnati Reds first baseman (and Toronto native) Joey Votto. The 13 other guys around the table – a mix of high-powered Toronto doctors, lawyers, corporate executives and stockbrokers – know that Votto's a rare gem: a guy who hits for average and power and doesn't strike out all that much. If Votto repeats his 2010 National League MVP award-winning season, it could mean the difference between fantasy gold – and the $2,000 to $4,000 purse that comes with it – and being out of the running entirely.
With baseball season in full swing – the Toronto Blue Jays play their home opener at the Rogers Centre on Monday night – fantasy drafts are taking place all over the continent. The Cliché league (so named because original managers were required to name their team after a baseball cliché) is probably one of Toronto's most storied, filled with prominent names from across the city. Alumni have included the voice of ESPN's Sunday Night Baseball, Dan Shulman, sportswriter Marty York, and Bernie Zukerman, producer of the Showcase crime drama King. The common social link is the league's founding commissioner, Danny Finkleman, a former CBC radio program host and now an investment analyst, who started the league in 1986 after reading an article in Esquire magazine about an obscure hobby played by a handful of sportswriters in New York City. "Fantasy baseball" was a way for regular joes to behave like professional general managers: evaluating real-life players, drafting teams, trading players, spending money. So Mr. Finkleman got some friends together at a pizza parlour at Bloor Street and Avenue Road and gave it a try.
While most leagues stick to major league rosters, Cliché managers nab prospects as young as 15, some of whom won't see the big leagues for half a decade. For a time, they hired an auctioneer at the annual draft to keep the pace up. To join the league, you've got to wait for an opening (which doesn't come up very often) and then someone's got to vouch for you; but once in, there's an unspoken code of conduct that stresses gentlemanly respect and camaraderie. A few years back, two inductees got a little too aggressive – calling other managers too often and offering lopsided, predatory trades – and were promptly shown the door.
Over the years, the location of the Cliché draft has varied – it's been held at hotels, in corporate boardrooms and community centres – but the auction draft process has remained the same. This year, it's at a corporate office in Vaughan. Each manager spends up to $260 on a 23-player roster in an auction-style draft, and the players' real-life statistics (home runs, stolen bases, and the like) count towards his manager's running tally. At season's end, whichever team wins the most categories wins the league. That comes with a year's worth of bragging rights, a gaudy trophy and a sizable payday. Which helps explain the furrowed brow on Randall the Handle, league commissioner and manager of There She Goes, the 2010 champs. This year, he's got his eye on Votto, too.
The bidding starts at $20 and climbs quickly to $30.
"$35," says Randall the Handle.
"$37," counters Micak.
A pause, then a flurry of betting takes it up to $41.
"$42," says Randall.
"$43," returns Micak.
By day, Randall the Handle is the sports-betting guru for Sun Media and Sportsnet Radio's The FAN 590, so it's his job to know the unknowable when it comes to sports. But at the moment, he's unsure. Is Votto worth that much? An extra few dollars now could mean losing out on a crucial $3 or $4 player later on in the draft. His son and co-manager, Mitchell, is furiously searching for answers on his laptop, flipping from one colour-coded spreadsheet of statistics to another. They use a program called RotoLab, which stores every statistic for every major leaguer and most prospects. The software can also predict, while the draft is still happening, which team is most likely to win the league. If Randall's team projects to be trailing in, say, strikeouts, then he'll target a high-strikeout pitcher in the next round.
That kind of technological advantage might seem unfair, given that a handful of guys are following along with pencil and eraser. But these old-schoolers – Mr. Finkleman, David Wortzman, a former ER doctor, Ian Dick, a prominent Toronto litigator, Mark Fienberg, an advertising sales manager, and Jim Micak, a corporate executive and Dan's uncle – don't seem to mind. When they started, there was no such thing as the Internet; Mr. Finkleman would provide weekly roster moves to a company called Heath Research, in West Virginia. Heath would accumulate stats and then fax the updated rosters and standings back to Mr. Finkleman, who would relay them to the next member, who'd send it on to the next. One weak link would mess up the whole thing, which happened all too frequently.
He might not look intimidating – he's got a bit of a Galen Weston Jr. thing going on – but Dan Micak is a serious fantasy threat. He starts his research about a month before the draft, preparing vast spreadsheets full of algorithms that calculate complex-sounding things like a player's "inflated value." He painstakingly researches every major league player, one by one. If you asked him, he could tell you something about each one. For the moment, though, Dan is focused on just one player: Votto. His eyes are locked on his own screen, his left hand on the mousepad, right hand palm down on the table.
"$45," says Randall the Handle.
Dan fires back: "$46."
It's the highest bid so far. Mitchell's hand is over his mouth, and he's whispering to his dad, whose glasses have come off. Randall nods, pauses, murmurs something back.
"$47," says Mitchell. The auctioneer pipes up: "Votto going once to There She Goes for $47…Do I hear $48? $47 to There She Goes…"
Dan sits silently.
"Votto SOLD to There She Goes for $47! A draft topper."
It has taken all of 45 seconds – a blink in a draft that will go for another seven hours – but it could be enough to set Randall on a path to victory. For the rest of the draft, he stays conservative – he doesn't have enough money to make another big play, and ends up with some decent middle-of-the-pack players: Milwaukee Brewers shortstop Rickie Weeks for $24, Washington Nationals pitcher Gio Gonzalez for $23 and St. Louis Cardinals pitcher Jaime Garcia for $20.
"It is near impossible to predict the flow of the draft and where money will be spent," says Randall. "But that's half the fun."
Special to The Globe and Mail