All Hail The Commish

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ghost

Sept 22,2014(ISN) – If there is a god, I hope she blesses Pigskin Annie for keeping our motley crew of computer curmudgeons afloat in the football pool. She should at the very least be on the short list to sainthood for her work as pool commissioner, based on the patience she displays in dealing with the problems members throw her way attempting to navigate entry before the season begins.

I tried to lighten her load this year by fielding a few frantic calls from a friend who cursed his way through each conversation by beginning with “I can’t get into the @#$%& pool!” Although I was relatively handy with a Tandy back in the day, there’s a reason my workmates refer to me the Fred Flintstone of the computer age, so the thought of someone turning to me for help is rather comical. At one point my friend got so ballistic he seriously considered dusting off the fax machine gathering dust in his garage to start his own pool. After convincing him that a pool of one wouldn’t be much fun, he went back to trying to get in on his own, and somehow inexplicably managed to register under three different names. We will refer to him as Fishy Face, fyshy face or fishyface to protect the stupid.
I should point out that this is the same dude who threatened to sue Yahoo Pro Football Pick ’em
last year because he couldn’t get in to change a pick that ended up costing him the weekly winnings. Although Yahoo apologized for a web-wide glitch the next day, Fishy Face is still contemplating legal action.

As usual, Pigskin Annie threw him a Hail Mary and got Fishy Face registered before the two-minute warning. Although I’ve only spoken to her on the phone a couple of times, I’ve discovered that she is a sweet, kindhearted Island girl, a diehard Seahawks fan and an engineer by profession. Working in that male-dominated field may explain why she was so pleased when my wife joined the pool three years ago, and was even happier when another woman signed up for this season. The only time I ever sensed a hint of anger or frustration in Pigskin Annie’s voice was when I made the mistake of bringing up a couple of questionable calls that arguably cost Seattle Super Bowl XL. Although that was back in 2006, her thunder and lightning response made you think the game was played yesterday.
Whether you’re in Vegas with your mortgage on the line or on the hook for twenty bucks a year like the low rollers in our pool, it’s difficult to describe the angst, anger, heartbreak, highs, lows and hurrays that make being part of a pool so intoxicating and addictive.
That’s why I decided to dedicate this space to acknowledging the efforts of Pigskin Annie, and all the other volunteer commissioners who make it possible for the rest of us to dive into the deep end for seventeen weeks a year. Or more, if you sign up for the playoff pool.
So God bless you, Pigskin Annie, and good luck this year on behalf of all of us who have leaned on you to keep us in the pool with our heads above water.

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