I am terrible at fantasy sports, and now I can share that ineptitude with my son

The official logo of the longstanding Beer Hockey League

My fantasy sports resume is, if not distinguished, at least fairly long.

I participated in fantasy baseball as far back as the 1980s. In the 90s I did a mail-in fantasy basketball league, dabbled in fantasy football, and enjoyed my first stint as a fantasy hockey owner in the Beer Hockey League (aka, the BHL, more about which in a moment).

If you're not familiar with the concept of fantasy sports, it's fairly simple: People serve as "owners" of virtual teams consisting of real-life players they have chosen or "drafted." They compete against other owners in a league format, with the goal of building the most statistically accomplished team over the course of a season in order to win bragging rights and/or some sort of cash prize.

I have enjoyed what can at best be termed "modest" success in fantasy sports through the years. I've always had a good time, though, which makes the whole endeavor worthwhile whether or not my teams do well.

About a decade ago, my life got sufficiently busy that I stepped away from all fantasy sports. Not really missing it once I was out, I figured I would never participate in a fantasy league again.

But then, a few months ago, an opportunity to rejoin the BHL came along. My son Jared and I were offered the chance to take back a fantasy hockey team we had actually co-owned in the BHL some years earlier. I initially declined, but when Jared decided to jump back in, I figured I might as well do it, too.

So now, once again, Jared and I are general managers of the Sapporo Wheat Kings, the fantasy team I founded more than 25 years ago that has changed owners (and names) a few times before coming back around to us.

Sapporo is a Japanese beer. All teams in the league have to be named after a beer. The "Wheat Kings" part is taken from the Brandon (Manitoba) Wheat Kings, one of my favorite real-life junior hockey teams.

Hockey is pretty far down the list in terms of the most popular fantasy sports, trailing not only NFL football, Major League Baseball and NBA basketball in terms of overall participation, but also NASCAR and even the Canadian Football League, for crying out loud.

The important thing is, it's something Jared and I can do together, even if he lives 1,000 miles away in Florida. We will consult via text on important team decisions like who to put in our "starting lineup" each week and which players we might want to pick up, drop or trade away. It's a nice way to stay connected even as he plies his career several states away as a baseball communications staffer with the MLB Tampa Bay Rays.

Given my fantasy sports track record, however, the experience is also likely to mimic our shared fandom of real-life Cleveland sports teams.

That is, it will be painful.

But at least it will be fun.

Wait, why does my shoulder hurt? And my leg? And my hip? And my ankle?

This is the year in which I turn 46 years old. It doesn't happen for another six months, but I'm well aware it's coming.

Do you know what's interesting about turning 46? It's that you've moved inexorably and undeniably into the second half of your 40s.

It's like you spend the years from 40 through 45 going up a roller coaster hill, and when you turn 46 you crest the hill and start barreling down the other side. The idea of being 50 suddenly looms large.

All of which is fine, in some sense. I mean, time marches on without any help or hindrance from us. You either try and fight it (and ultimately lose) or you go with it.

I try to put myself into the "go with it" school, but there's one thing I can't help but noticing: Something on me is always a little bit painful. Not hugely painful. Certainly not debilitatingly painful. But there's almost always a little soreness somewhere on my body.

Right now it's in my right shoulder. And the frustrating part is that I have no idea why. I don't recall having used that shoulder any more than normal in the last few days. Yet if I lift my right arm over my head, I feel it in the shoulder.

Once that starts feeling OK, it will be the pesky left calf that flares up during my morning walks. Or a twinge in my right hip. Again, nothing that would seem to require medical attention, just a series of constant annoyances.

As I understand it, this isn't going away, either. It will just get worse. Little by little, the pains will be more annoying and more frequent. It will start being two things that are sore at any given time rather than just one. And they'll start affecting the way I go about performing certain daily tasks.

This is something that will be years in the making, but eventually it asserts its dominance over all of us, no matter what we do.

It doesn't help that I don't strength train. I walk. My heart is healthy and so, I think, are my bones. But I need to lift weights to help my muscles and tendons remain strong and pain-resistant. I'll start that at some point before I turn 50, I promise.

But if I were smart, I would start now. Joints respond well to resistance exercise and I could hold that soreness back a bit better if I would just carve out a few mornings a week for some dumbbell work.

So will I? Again, yes, eventually. When things aren't so busy. (I'll give you a moment to laugh ironically at that statement.)

Of course, by the time I'm able to free up a couple of hours of gym time a week, my memory will be shot and I'll forget to do it anyway. So maybe aspirin and Ben Gay are my only hope at this point.