The draft was at 7:45. The problem was ESPN meant Eastern Time.
That sent the league through another round of reminders and changes. Somebody tried to set it for 8:00 and discovered the controls would not allow it. The draft order changed. Keeper rules got another revision. Everyone had one more thing to complain about before picking a team.
The league was called Spiced Lamb Shank. The team names were worse, in the best possible way. They included Mustache Ride, Horse Chokers, Sweet Lincoln's Mullet, and my own contribution, which is not going to improve this site's search traffic.
This was a real part of the friend group. We had camping weekends, housewarming parties, utilities split across roommates, football emails, and a fantasy league that required a surprising amount of administration.
Two days after the draft, a tee-time reservation landed in the same inbox. I cannot prove from the confirmation that I played the round. It does show the shape of the week: fantasy football on Wednesday, golf on Friday, Beatport running through all of it.
The timing was also familiar. Work was busy and always online. Fantasy football was another system living in the browser, except this one could break because the league manager forgot to convert time zones.
I do not have a clean record of how my team finished that season. I have the draft emails, the trade proposals, and the increasingly specific instructions about when everyone needed to log in.
The final reminder was clear enough: August 29, 7:45 p.m. Eastern. In Denver, show up two hours earlier.