Day 1

COVID-19 has stolen so much from us this year. We lost the NCAA basketball tournaments. Some TFL owners were hoping to make it to the College World Series in Omaha. All sports were shelved for months, delaying the start of the baseball season and halting all NBA and NHL teams just as they were gearing up for the playoffs. And exactly how do you prepare for an NFL season with no preseason games to scout?

That's just sports and does not include bigger losses. About 200,000 of our fellow Americans lost their lives. Six-point-four million Americans have tested positive and been forced into isolation. The numbers are even worse for our global neighbors.

The disease has forced thousands of businesses to close, cost millions their jobs, wrecked the U.S. economy and probably played a role in the social unrest sweeping the nation.

Luby's decided to liquidate all assets and disolve. The Texas-based restaurant is the owner of Fuddruckers, which will always have a place in TFL lore. A world with no Fudds.

In short, 2020 sucks.

A group of TFL owners decided to defy COVID and say, you're not taking our convention too. This is the 30th anniversary of one of the oldest fantasy football leagues in the world. It is the 25th anniversary of the convention.

Of course it will go on. Five owners are planning on keeping the tradition alive, even if they do so from a safe social distance.

Atlanta was meant to be the city that would draw a record-setting number of owners. It was an easy drive for the Rameys, Doug Kaufman, Scott Schult, Wit Tuttell, Steve Katz, Mark Dolan. You could hold the convention in Antarctica and Scott Lacy, Mike Taylor and Ken Sain would be there (the only owners who have been to all of them). Michael Bourque was on board now that his kids are in college. It was Michael Woelflein's on year.

With just a little bit of luck, and perhaps some arm twisting, they could beat Boston's record when 12 of 14 owners attended at least part of the convention.

And then COVID came along and robbed any hope of that.

Commissioner Scott Lacy was the first to leave for the convention, doing so on Sunday night. Yes, it takes him five days to drive 385 miles. When you think of Scott, the J.R.R. Tolkien quote "Not all who wander are lost" should come to mind.

Ken Sain flew in from Phoenix. They both arrived about the same time at the Hyatt Place hotel. Owners are each getting their own room, no sharing this year. They replaced their annual welcome hug with an air elbow bump from about six feet apart.

They had a few hours before the NFL opener, Houston at Kansas City. So they talked about some special COVID rules the commissioner is working on and shared their draft strategies.

Yes, shared. You know how if you ask Wit Tuttell what time the draft starts and he refuses to answer even that ... well, this was the opposite. The two friends shared pretty much all their thinking. First, Lacy drafts right before Sain, so they're looking at the same group of players. Second, there's nothing Sain can do about it. And, they respect each other's opinions enough to want to get that feedback and bounce ideas off one another.

Scotty had some coding to do, and Kenny needed a nap, so they separated for a bit. For dinner and the game they headed to the Park Bar, which claimed to have outdoor seating. Well, they sort of did. Scott and Ken were envisioning a rooftop with lots of socially distant tables.

They got two tables outside the front door and right next to the smoking area. But, there's not a lot of restaurants open at that time of night during a pandemic. And, the bar was mostly empty when they entered, so they felt safe enough to sit inside next to a giant TV screen. They ordered a chicken sandwiches with fries/onion rings, and started watching the game.

It wasn't long before a gentleman came up to Lacy while Sain was ordering food. He wasn't wearing a mask. He asked Scott, do you let Jesus Christ into your life?

He was still there when Ken returned, asking Ken if he loves all people. And while he kept talking, more and more people were entering the bar, none of them wearing masks. Scott and Ken began to feel uncomfortable, and decided to eat and watch the rest of the first half outside.

The meal was actually very good. And the game was fun to watch. It felt like a normal football game. It looks like the networks are going to shoot tight angles that avoid showing the empty seats in the stands. For at least a little bit, there was some escape from the pandemic and football was back.

After the first half they took a walk, looking for a drug or convenience store to get some goodies. Unfortunately, everything closes early in the age of COVID, so the hunt was unsuccessful. Still, it was a pleasant walk. Scott talked about what great weather, Ken complained of the high humidity.

They returned to the hotel, which had the chocolate Scott was craving, and watched what remained of the second half.

It was the smallest opening night of the TFL convention ever. Only three more owners are coming, so it will be one of the smallest ever. It is not going to top Boston. However, there is something special about the Atlanta convention already.

A group of defiant men looked COVID in the face and said, "Fuck you, you're not taking this too."

Day 2

Just because a group of TFL owners is giving a giant middle finger to COVID doesn't mean they are being stupid about it. Well, they are being stupid about some things, but more on that later. When it comes to COVID, they take the proper precautions.

Instead of gathering in rooms, they spend more time outdoors. They practice safe social distancing when possible, and wear masks when it's not. When they eat out, which they have to do twice a day, they are choosing restaurants with outdoor eating areas. When they are in a space with too many others who aren't following basic CDC guidelines, they hightail it out of there.

They do take the masks off while eating, but when a waiter comes over to take an order they put them back on again to protect them.

It's very responsible of them. So, they're trying something new.

As is typical at a TFL convention, there's a lot of sleeping in the morning after. By the time Sain and Lacy woke, Wit Tuttell was on his way to Atlanta. By the time they had showered and were ready to face the day, Tuttell was checked in to his hotel.

Iggy is staying at the Marriott W, which is about a half mile from the Hyatt Place. Now, it's important to note there are three Marriott Ws in Atlanta and two Hyatt Places. If you are thinking that is a recipe for disaster ... you would be right.

Wit and Scott agreed to meet in the lobby of a hotel. Which one, however, was an issue. Scott and Ken headed over to the Marriott W, and waited in an empty lobby. Wit headed over to the Hyatt Place lobby to wait.

By the time they figured out where the others were, they had picked a lunch spot and agreed to meet there. They ended up running into each other, which should have been impossible. However, Wit went to the wrong Hyatt Place so he ended up ahead, instead of behind Scott and Ken.

Lunch was at the White Oak near the Peachtree Center of Atlanta. They have a nice outdoor area in the shade, and the food was terrific. Wit's buddy in the local tourism office recommended it. We're listening to him each and every time.

After a long lunch where the friends caught up, they went to CVS to stock up on supplies for the draft. And, as with every convention before it, by supplies we mean Peanut Butter M&Ms. It's a draft day tradition. Scott ruined the tradition by getting something called Pretzel M&Ms. What the hell?

They headed back to the Hyatt Place, the right one, as Mike Taylor had landed and was on his way. They agreed to meet by the pool. They had the outdoor space pretty much to themselves, or more likely, they scared away the other guests. Taylor arrived, and they found a shady spot to talk and enjoy some unexpected nice weather in Atlanta.

After cleaning up it was time for some crazy, and then dinner. Michael Bourque arrived to find he had booked his reservation at the wrong Hyatt Place. He cleared that up, and then all owners coming this year were ready to dine together for the first time.

Wit suggested Antico Pizza Napoletana, saying it was among the best pizzas he's ever had. The ovens are from not just Italy, but Old World Italy. All the ingredients are imported. Everyone was eager to try.

But how to get there, when the restaurant is a couple of miles away? Scott and Wit suggested electric scooters. The five all downloaded the Spin app, and grabbed one of those machines they usually trip over. In a few minutes, they were whizzing down the streets with no helmets, no seat belts, and no freaking protection from the cars that were inches away.

A bunch of men in their 50s acting like 12 year olds. In short, they had the time of their lives.

There was one interesting moment when they had to cross a street because the bike lane disappeared from one side to reappear on the other. Then they had to cross it again when they needed to make a right. It was a bit terrifying, but somehow all five safely arrived at Antico and there were no injuries.

Wit said Antico had an outdoor seating area, but on this night it apparently was being rented out to some group for a beach party. So despite the lure of one of the best pizzas Wit has ever eaten, they decided to look elsewhere to be safe.

Right next door was Gio's Sicilian Pizza, and they did have an outdoor seating area. Problem was, it was packed. However, as they debated possibly eating inside, someone walked by and said they were about to leave their space outside.

Scott claimed it. Food was ordered, all was close to being right with the world. However, the table given up was really close to about three other tables, all packed with people. Scott spotted another group about to leave a more secluded spot, and he pounced.

The pizza may not have been as good at Antico, but it was good. It was thicker than most of the guys like, but had a spicy pepperoni that had a nice kick. And in a TFL first, they left some pizza on the table when they were finished. Three slices! The boys are getting old.

The dinner turned out great and last quite a while. How to get back?

To the disappointment of, um, no one, the electric scooters automatically stop running at 10 p.m. so they can be collected and charged. There were a few "thank karmas" said with that news. There would be no need to push luck twice and try and survive another trip. So they grabbed an Uber and returned to the Hyatt Place.

They walked across the street to Stats sports bar, where they will go on Sunday to watch the first games. There they had a drink, chatted, and watched the Boston Celtics knock out the defending NBA champions in a decent Game 7.

It was there Wit delivered the news that he brought a football in the hopes of reviving the Touch Classic.

To survive electric scooters only to head to emergency rooms the next day trying to bring back the TFL glory days. Saturday could be interesting, stay tuned.

Day 3

The weather forecast before the convention began was not promising. Luckily, it has been better than expected. It's been cool (by Atlanta standards) and for the most part the rain has stayed away. Saturday started out much the same and in the mind of Wit Tuttell, it was the perfect day to revive the TFL Touch Classic.

He grabbed the football he brought with him from North Carolina, and hiked over to the Hyatt Place, sure the competitive spirit of the others would join him in a game.

It was a hard sell. Wit kept texting people to come out and play, and Michael Bourque would answer with a text suggesting another activity, one that did not require a visit to the emergency room.

"There's a nice park we can play at over here!"

"Anyone want to go to the College Football Hall of Fame, or maybe the World of Coke?"

"Just found an excellent spot next to the Civil Rights Museum?"

"Anyone actually want to go inside the Civil Rights Museum?"

Eventually, they did none of the above. They met at the pool, which because of social distancing has become the meeting place for the group. No more gathering in the Lacy-Tuttell room. No more Lacy-Tuttell room, since they are in separate hotels.

When Tuttell finally arrived, he tossed the football to the owners, and they tossed it back. All five owners did physically touch the ball, so I guess you could say the Touch Classic has been revived, though no routes were run and no pass was contested.

For lunch the boys decided on Fox Bros. BBQ. How to get there, though, became an adventure. Some wanted to risk life and limb again and travel the estimated four miles on electric scooters. Ken Sain was having none of that, he ordered a taxi.

Just as the other four had signed in to their scooters and were on the clock, it began to rain. Then it began to pour. After a few minutes, each owner signed out and realized they just spent a few bucks to go absolutely no where.

A taxi and an Uber later, all five were at Fox Bros. Now, none of us is a certified judge for the Jack Daniels World Championship BBQ competition, but we do know one. And after his years of guidance, and teachings, we feel confident enough to give Fox Bros. a solid Solid rating. We'd actually go all in and call them great, but our BBQ mentor Mark Dolan taught us better than that, so it was solid.

By the time they got back to the hotel it was a bit late, the conversation over BBQ was excellent. So there was no trip to the College Football Hall of Fame, or the Atlanta Aquarium, or the World of Coke, or to Ebenezer Baptist Church, or to the Civil Rights Museum.

Instead, many took naps. Red meat will do that to men in their 50s.

It was time for the draft. Scott Lacy and Mike Taylor decided to draft in their rooms, and Wit Tuttell, Michael Bourque and Ken Sain all set up shop downstairs in the lobby bar. The bar closed just as the draft was beginning, so they pretty much had the huge space to themselves.

There were the usual glitches and it ended up being the shortest TFL draft of the 16-team era, and maybe even before.

There was, however, the Great Pizza Problem, and the havoc it caused after.

Before I begin this rant, and no doubt about it, it is a rant, we need to be fair. Some of the simplest things to do pre-coronavirus can be a challenge in the Age of COVID. So while names will be named, keep in mind this could have happened to anyone. This freaking virus has upended all aspects of life.

Let the rant begin.

The draft night tradition is to get a pizza, usually around the fourth round. Mike Taylor wanted to buy, and Ken Sain suggested a pizza place that is close and comes highly recommended by Google.

They usually go for a local pizza place, sampling the town's fare, and avoiding the chains we all know way too well.

Mike began calling, and it was busy. He called again, still busy. He called again, busy. More than a half hour of busy signals. When he finally got through, he learned they don't deliver.

How hard can it be to get a pizza delivered? Oh, we're just getting started. It would take four owners about 90 minutes just to order the pies, and they would be delivered just as the draft was winding down.

Taylor tried another place, and I believe he ended up on voicemail. Another place, and they don't deliver. By this time the other owners were getting hungry. Wit Tuttell said he'd find a place, and he began going down the line of pizza places. First one didn't deliver. Second one didn't deliver. Third one delivers, but not to our area.

Wit was on hold with another place when Scott Lacy said he had enough of this, he'll find a place. He ended up trying to use a pizza ordering app from the place Wit was on hold with. It seemed this might work, however, right before Scott got to the end and his confirmation, the app broke down and told him to start again. He did that twice.

That was it for Ken Sain. He told the others to back off, he'd take care of this. He pulled out his phone, hit his Little Caesar's app, clicked on delivery, ordered three pies and was done in two minutes. Yes, it's a big national chain and not a local pizza place, but at that point the important thing was to get them ordered and end the drama.

If you want something done, give it to Sain. He absolutely hates having things on his To Do list and won't stop until he can cross them off.

Unfortunately for Michael Bourque and Wit Tuttell, it screwed up the rest of Ken's night and they had to deal with that. Sain came to the rescue on pizza just as his pick was coming up. By the time he got the Brain in the Jar updated so it could make a pick for him, he was behind and rushing. So he didn't enter the picks correctly. He had to redo, and resubmit.

Then the Brain in the Jar started moving in slow motion. Click on something, wait five seconds, then something would happen. Type in a name, wait 10 seconds, then the name would start typing. You ever want to see Sain lose it, be around him with technology is falling apart.

There was some cussing, a lot of mumbling, some threats of violence, some shouting. It was not pretty, but it did keep Tuttell and Bourque entertained.

Sain tried three times to get the Brain in the Jar updated, and never did. It was jumping around, he was entering in the wrong spots. More yelling and screaming and cussing, a kick of the table, and try again.

All because COVID has made it so freaking difficult to do even the simplest of things.

After the draft Lacy and Taylor rejoined the group, they went over their own teams. Sain thought Woelflein had the best draft. Again. It's time to give Kale his own team and break up that braintrust.

Day 3 was over, and while there were some storm clouds at the end (mostly in Sain's head), it was another wonderful day. Atlanta, despite the COVID difficulties, is exceeding expectations as a convention city.

Day 4

There are far too many moments to fit into a convention report to fully capture the TFL experience.

There was no mention that Scott Lacy and Ken Sain both brought thermometers and have been checking their temperature often to to make sure they don't have a fever and are putting the others at risk.

Or that when someone feels like they may be getting a bit ill (which we all did at some point, COVID messes with your head), they isolate themselves.

There are other stories that just don't fit with the flow of a convention report. Here's one example left out of Saturday's report.

The boys were about to head off for some barbecue and were meeting in the lobby. They began to debate how to get there, and decided to use electric scooters. Ken Sain was hoping to take a taxi and beat them there, he wanted to place the TFL baseball caps Casey Brogan sent on the table before they arrived to surprise them.

Or perhaps he could pick up some gift bags along the way and then ask the waiters at Fox Bros. to bring them out before the food with a "special delivery from Casey" message.

But the boys were in the lobby, so there was no chance for Sain to sneak out unnoticed. He was holding the ball caps behind his back, trying to figure out how to do this. As he walked near them, he overheard their conversation.

"Yeah, looking like it might rain." "We need to wear hats." "I'll go upstairs to get mine:" "Can you grab mine while you're up there?"

Well, damn, if this isn't the perfect time to present Casey's gift. Sain said "Hold up a second," thought about it, then pulled the caps from behind his back and began handing them out.

"That's some timing."

Yep, just like it was planned ....

TFL owners do tend to go overboard with their love for this league. Be it thick and expensive media guides, or making films, or traveling thousands of miles just to meet and draft a team, the TFL is unique.

The final day of the convention began at the gathering place for this convention, the pool at the Hyatt Place. It's not very deep, only three and a half feet. It's not very big, it won't take long to walk a lap. But, it's an outdoor space, somewhat secluded, where the owners feel safe.

They headed over to Stats Sports Bar across the street where they had a reservation to watch games. They have a covered outdoor patio on the roof. Food wasn't great, nearly all the TVs were tuned to the Falcons game and the one that wasn't had on an NBA game for some reason. But again, safety first.

Scott Lacy adapted, bringing out his iPhone and starting up RedZone. Ken Sain thought that was a wonderful idea, he did the same.

The sports bar began to fill up, and the boys left around halftime of the first game, breaking tradition of staying until the 1 o'clock games are done. They headed back to the seclusion of the Hyatt Place pool, where they set up two laptops: One was showing RedZone, the other the end of the Falcons game.

Soon it was time for Michael Bourque to leave to catch his flight home. The end was near. Sain headed up to his room for a nap, and the other owners watched the second round of games from the comfort of air conditioned rooms.

For dinner they walked over to Aamar Indian Cuisine. It's nothing special, they hand out paper plates and plastic forks with your meals. But the food was spicy and delicious. They ate outdoors, sitting at a plastic table on the sidewalk. No homeless people tried to bother them.

Wit Tuttell walked back to his car to start his journey home. He was going to spend the night in Atlanta's suburbs so he could get an early start Monday morning.

Sain had a headache, so he said his farewells and headed for his room.

Mike Taylor and Scott Lacy were all that were left of a convention that was winding down.

Atlanta will forever be the COVID convention. Hopefully, all five owners make it home safely and no one experiences symptoms for the next two weeks. Only then will we know if it was a successful convention or not.

The owners were careful, but there's no way to eliminate all risks. The people in Atlanta do not follow social distancing as well as other places.

But for now, no one is sorry they came. A tradition continues, and a much-needed mental health break was had by owners who were tired of isolation the coronavirus has forced us into.

The 2020 TFL convention is in the books and now we can look ahead, hoping the virus is tamed by this time next year.