Forget crafting, game nights and watch parties. Resident Assistant Josh Marx PO ’28 built a community through his dorm-wide fantasy football league.
By taking this tradition and setting aside the aspects that make it cutthroat, he proved that these leagues serve a greater purpose than a vehicle for public humiliation.
Like many other hardcore NFL fans, Marx has played in a fantasy football league every year since middle school. Despite not being part of a football-watching family, the fantasy league infrastructure has become a ritual for him. Beyond piquing his interest in the NFL, these leagues have offered him consistent opportunities to bond with peers over friendly rivalries.
Gibson Hall’s league was no different. Marx managed to recruit over a third of the residents. With 12 members, he had reached what many consider to be the sweet spot for peak competition.
“I have played fantasy football for a lot of my life, and it felt like a great way to build community,” Marx said. “People don’t need to show up all the time. They can run it from their phone. People could keep something competitive and fun going on in the dorm community without necessarily having an obligation.”
Although these leagues traditionally create stakes with theatrical punishments or buy-ins, Marx’s league chose a more inclusive approach. The league’s winner received $15 in Flex, and no one was required to contribute money.
For some longtime football fans, like Pomona-Pitzer wide receiver Jackson Irons PO ’28, participating in this league provided a break from other, more intense leagues, free from outstanding pressure.
As if losing to your friends is not enough, some fantasy football leagues require an agreed-upon punishment like chugging milk while running a mile, or spending 30 days replicating cringeworthy TikTok trends.
For those with little exposure to the sport, joining these kinds of low-stakes leagues gives them a taste of the thrilling game of football. Unless someone is willing to face the consequences that come with inexperience, the inner workings of fantasy leagues often remain a mystery.
“[This league] allowed people like me who are new to fantasy football to participate without fear of humiliation,” participant Is Wilhelm PO ’28 said. “Fantasy football was a pretty big thing where I grew up, but the leagues were exclusive and had really bad punishments.”
“ [This league] allowed people like me who are new to fantasy football to participate without fear of humiliation.”
The broader question still remains: What gives fantasy football leagues their allure and longevity?
Marx’s answer speaks to the continuity of a league. A league and its members can remain the same for years, even when hobbies, homes and schools change.
“We obviously have all gone to college and left a group of friends,” Marx said, referring to his league from home. “But it’s pretty special that my group of friends from middle school still has this community.”
His memories of the league, however silly and fleeting, helped to sustain something larger. Perhaps leagues endure partly because they hold versions of middle school selves in place.
At the same time, both Marx and Irons acknowledge that fantasy football’s competitive nature is a core tenet of its continued popularity. Fantasy football can be enjoyed by many, but most longstanding leagues balance camaraderie with extremity.
“When you have a stake in the teams, you’re playing for money — you just want to beat your friends,” Marx said. “Or if there is a punishment, it makes [watching sports] more exciting.”
Irons expressed that well-intentioned “trash talk” is inherent to fantasy football. High stakes almost invite it. This element even carried over to the Gibson league, where he and his roommate spent Sunday games sending taunting messages back and forth.
“The most memorable moment [of the season] would be in the championship when I played my roommate,” Irons said. “He and I were talking trash all week leading up to it.”
Irons, the winner of the Gibson league, reminisced that his win was exceptionally rewarding because his roommate had been so confident going into the final.
In many leagues, such exchanges only bring players closer together.
“I remember watching that play and immediately receiving a text from my roommate simply saying ‘bro,’” Irons said. “I responded with a crying-laughing emoji and a GIF of Bijan [Robinson] dancing.”
With the possibility of a large inheritance, or conversely, leaving the season with a bald head, one cannot just be a passive participant.
“You can choose how much of a nerd you want to be,” Marx said.
Being part of a high-stakes league — which is the majority — means learning to embrace obsession.
This elevated extremity and socially-mandated vulnerability seem to serve a larger purpose. What ultimately comes from these leagues is a deepened connection.
“We are already talking about next year, when I will be abroad in the fall,” Marx said. “We won’t see each other for a year, necessarily, but we’ll still have this [league] to keep in touch.”
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