Fantasy Shoe League

I love shoes. I’m not unique in this. Many women do. Shoes feed a woman’s soul. They make us feel good even when our jeans make us feel bad. I normally try to avoid broad generalizations, but most of the men I know feel the same way about sports as women do about shoes. For the most part, this works out well and keeps balance in the universe. For example, Sundays in the fall are known in my house as football days. They are also a great day for me to go shopping. Denver is playing the Jets? Great, I need a pair of Uggs. New England at Miami? Kids, Mommy needs a leopard bootie. Get in the car!

My husband thinks I’m obsessive about shoes and that I spend too much money on them. He can’t understand why I need five pair of black heels (a two inch heel, a three inch heel, a patent pump, a slingback, and a peep toe). He resents the space my shoes take up in the closet.

But it’s my husband who is obsessed, not me. Yes, I own 50 different pairs of shoes. Yes, I spent $300 on my last pair. But my passion for shoes pales in comparison to his love of sports.

What separates the man from the woman? Two words: Fantasy. Leagues.

My husband belongs to two fantasy leagues: one for football and one for baseball. He spends hours researching his draft picks. He reads online reports to help build his team. He actually attends a draft at some other guy’s house. On draft night, I have to leave work early so he won’t be late for the first round pick.

Let me repeat that: I have to leave work early on draft night so he won’t miss the first round pick. Granted, I spend lots of money on shoes. I won’t deny that. But my shoe habit has never interfered with my career, much less my spouse’s. In fact, I would argue in some cases, my shoes have enhanced my career. My menswear-inspired black patent and suede pumps were the perfect accessory for my presentation on marketing results. And because I bought them on sale, they complemented the return-on-investment theme.

My husband spends at least an hour each night during a season checking scores, stats and schedules. He is always up to date on who’s on the disabled list for baseball or the injured reserve for football. To be fair, he does pretty well with his fantasy teams. I’m pretty sure he’s made the playoffs every season. And he did receive a bobblehead trophy for winning the “World Series” last year.

Every Monday from April through January, he gives me an update on his team.

“I am in first place,” he’ll tell me. Or he’ll inform me, “My quarterback is playing this week. I should do okay.”

While watching a Red Sox game, I’ll notice him rooting for a player on the opposing team.

“That’s my guy. I need him to hit a homer.” He yells encouragement at the TV.

“They can’t hear you, Coach,” I remind him.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he snaps back.

Well, I want to try to understand. If shoes are for women what sports are for men, then perhaps we should have a fantasy shoe league.

Maybe we would spend less money on shoes if we played in fantasy leagues. After all, isn’t one of the reasons men like fantasy sports is that they fulfill their unmet desire to play professional ball? Would pretend shopping satisfy our desire for unbought shoes?

Think about it. Women could build a “team” of shoes for the spring or fall fashion season. To make the comparison work, let’s say they could have nine pairs on their team to match the nine players on a baseball field. Key positions would include a lead-off loafer, a pump, a high boot, an ankle bootie, a sandal, a ballet slipper, a mule, a slingback and a designated sneaker. Each week, women would face a fashion challenge. They would be given an outfit and would need to choose a shoe to match. If they had the right shoe to complete the look, they would earn points. If the shoe clashed or the heel height was wrong, points would be deducted. For example, if during the draft you chose a leopard pump but then you were given a bold, floral patterned dress, you’d lose points.

To make things even trickier, each team would have salary caps just like in pro ball. There would be tough decisions to make on draft night. If you selected a Manolo Blahnik boot in python as your star player, you might have to recruit the $25 Lela Rose from Payless to round out the bench.

Fashion blogs and magazines could feed news and trend stories into a service like Yahoo Fantasy Shoes. After dinner, women would head to their home offices to do research.

“Honey, can you clean up the dishes and put the kids to bed? I need to go online and make some trades.”

I ask my husband what he thinks of my idea. He says it sounds ridiculous.

“Why would you waste your time pretending to buy shoes?”

“That’s my point!” I tell him. “Of course we wouldn’t. Don’t you see how silly fantasy leagues are?”

“Fantasy sports are different,” he defends.

“Oh right,” I say. “Because you really are managing a ball team?”

He grins sheepishly. Hey, if the shoe fits…

Liz O’Donnell is a freelance writer living in Dedham, Massachusetts. She is an avid Red Sox fan and collector of shoes.

~Liz O'Donnell