There are two quintessential draft days in the NFL. The first is the annual Draft Day, where the most coveted rookies are drafted into their new big-league homes. The second and arguably more nerve-wracking is the Fantasy Football draft. From the research to the draft order, especially down to the draft party, Fantasy-goers do not take this day lightly. Draft day is stereotypically known as the day the guys go to the local dive and determine their futures for the next six months. With the salty pretzels and Michelob pitchers to aid their decisions, the men spend a whole two hours playing the most terrifying game of chance. Voices are raised, friendships are tested, and teams are assembled, and when the dust settles, the league sits in anticipation as the first regular season game comes into focus. Soon, Sundays will return to being consumed entirely by football.

While this idea of Fantasy Football is true, it is also very much incomplete. As my high school best friends and I would argue, Fantasy is just as much a woman's hobby as it a man's. At the beginning of my sophomore year in high school, my friends and I hatched the idea to create our own Fantasy league; the only rule being that it was strictly all-girls. While it was somewhat of a struggle to fill all ten spots, we set forth with an automatic draft that guided us into our first matchups. Of course, none of us were entirely certain about the ins and outs of Fantasy, but it was a learning opportunity.

What we didn't anticipate before joining, however, was the amount of time and effort we'd be investing in our teams. By the third game, our lunchtime conversations were dominated by the latest injury updates and desperate trade appeals. We checked our ESPN apps like clockwork to see if our waivers went through and who to go after if our pickups had been stolen. I'm reluctant to admit, too, that we spent far too much time adjusting lineups during class when we should've been paying attention. Oops.

One of the absolute best memories from our league, though, was the draft party I held at the beginning of our senior year. Aside from a house packed full of girls, it was the furthest thing from the traditional sleepover trope you see in major films. Most of us showed up wearing our favorite jerseys or other NFL gear, which signified that we were ready to get down to business. We all sat around in a giant circle, and no, it wasn't to braid each other's hair or whatever. We were anxiously counting down the moments till we could draft our players at last. There wasn't gossip; there was smack talk. There weren't pillow fights; there were fights over stealing each other's picks. AND the only boys we were concerned with were the ones topping the roster. It was seemingly the most unusual bonding experience we had together, but honestly, I would give a lot to revisit that night even if just for a few minutes.

Looking back across our three eventful seasons together, we met with a great deal of support for our league. Even though it was mainly from our dads taking pride in our newfound hobby, they respected our league as much as any other. In my opinion, I think most dads would be elated to have football in common with their daughters. Not to mention, I know I spent many, many Sundays during the season binge watching game after game with my dad. I had so many players to keep up with, for goodness sake. However, nothing beat nearly spilling piping hot bowls of gumbo as we intently watched our players rack up points during the games. I even was able to advise him a time or two on which players to bench and who to trade. In all, it really was a great way to bond with my dad.

Although we disbanded our league once college rolled around, some of us still play in other leagues — boys and all. Most recently, I joined my dad's league, which is now comprised of seven men and three women. While it's clear that Fantasy is still mostly a guy's world, I'm proud to play alongside my fellow girls. The guys know not to discount any of us, too, as last year's finals saw one out of three girls make it to the finals. Even though the comradery and competition aren't the same, what started as a spur-of-the-moment idea became a genuinely enjoyable hobby.