Electronic sports and midterms a lethal combination

In my last semester at Tufts, one would think that I'd be the master of everything school related -- and until this past week I would have said that was true. But, then an old affliction came out of the closet and bit me in the rear end.

What is this disorder to which I refer? The answer is Midterm Produced Electronic Sports Based Attention Deficit Disorder (MPESBADD). In layman's terms, this affliction is known as "I can't do my midterms because I'm too busy giving in to my desire to play miniature golf and fantasy basketball on my computer, and Madden football on my housemate's Playstation."

However, it's not the ADD part of my affliction that has doctors dumbfounded -- medical professionals have Ritalin for ADD. No, it's the cyclical nature of the MPESB portion of the disorder, the fact that it only rears its ugly face in March during midterms, which has doctors baffled.

Here are my symptoms. Don't be alarmed if many of them sound familiar. You may know somebody with this terrible disease. Hell, you may even have it yourself. Now strap on your seat belts while I take you on the wild ride that is MPESBADD.

In October, I agreed to sign up for a fantasy basketball team with some friends. I thought it would be a great opportunity to keep in shape for the fantasy baseball season --but, it turns out that fantasy basketball is just plain boring. So from mid-November until just three days ago I didn't check my fantasy team. Then on the night where I realized that I had to read 500 pages and write a paper for one class, write a short story for another class, do all 300 pages of reading and a take home exam for another class, and that I had an English paper due the next day for my fourth class -- lo and behold I decided to check my fantasy team.

To be completely honest, it took me about 45 minutes to log into my Yahoo fantasy account because it had been so long that I had actually forgotten my password. But I refused to be denied. After a hard fought battle with Yahoo's password protection system, I managed to access my team.

Much to my pleasure, I discovered that I was in fifth place in the league (out of 12 teams), despite not having touched my team in approximately four months. So immediately I set the goal of winning the championship -- with 20 games left in the NBA season, and Kobe Bryant on my team, I figured that anything was possible -- and then I started wheeling and dealing.

I studied my starting lineup for approximately 30 minutes and then released two of my starters, Chucky Atkins and Todd MacCuloch, who are currently on the injured list. I replaced them with Richard Hamilton and Nene Hilario. Subsequently, I proceeded to propose trades to seven of the 12 other people in my league. After sending out the trade proposals, it would have been a good time to start doing some school work, right? Wrong. Instead I went into the kitchen and cracked a celebratory beer -- "To the championship," I said, before tossing it back.

Suddenly I remembered that my seven-to-eight-page English paper was due the next day, it was already 11 p.m. and I only had two pages written. So still buzzing from the celebratory beer that I had just chugged (yes, I'm a light weight), I settled down to write. I got through approximately 3/4 of a page before I got the sudden urge to play Madden, a game that I love, but hardly ever have the time to play. With at least one assignment due in each of my four classes over the next week, I suddenly had time.

I went into Matt's room where I found him and CJ in their usual 12 a.m. position, sprawled out watching King of the Hill. "Turn this crap off," I said. "Let's get a game." "Nah, dude, we're busy," they replied in unison. "Come on, I just need a little Madden break, I've been working for hours (alright, 45 minutes max). Just come on, I really need to get a game NOW," I yelled. "Dude, you're obsessed. Cool out," CJ responded, before he closed the door in my face. Whatever.

After I sulked for 20 minutes because they wouldn't stop watching TV and let me play Madden, I concluded that the run-in with my roommates was all for the best because I had (and still have) an ungodly amount of work to start, never mind finish.

So I went back to my computer, where I proceeded to finish up the last 1/4 of a page which I had started before the whole not-being-allowed-to-play-Madden incident. Suddenly, 1 a.m. struck and I still needed five more pages in my English paper. Perfect time to get serious, right? Wrong. Perfect time to play golf.

I ran into the kitchen and found a rag and then hustled back to my room to start polishing my golf clubs. This decision to polish my clubs was foolish for a number of reasons. First, there was snow outside. Second, it was dark outside. Third, I have golf clubs, but I don't know how to play golf. After the stupidity of what I was doing hit me, I decided to go play 18 holes anyway.

I headed back to my computer and typed in the web address for my favorite golf course,www.people.fas.harvard.edu/~pyang/flash/miniputt.swf, which, not surprisingly, I had not frequented since the same time last year.

Sure it was mini golf, so I only got the opportunity to work on my short game, and yes it was on the computer, but after 18 holes I had worked up a disgusting sweat and my stomach began to cry out for food. I rushed back into the kitchen and devoured a Power Bar and washed it down with a bottle of Gatorade, which I only keep around the house during midterms season. Then it was back to my computer for another round.

The course is a par 48 and in the first round I shot an awe inspiring 32, but then I got sloppy in the second round and shot a nine on the par two 14th hole. The nine really ended up hurting me and I finished the second 18 with a disappointing 38.

In retrospect, I should probably have showered, finished up my English paper, and then maybe even started my other work. But, at 4:30 a.m. after a long evening of sports and one page of writing, I was sweaty, tired and defeated. I went to bed with the hope that the next day would be easier, and that finally -- after four years of searching -- I would finally do what the doctors haven't done -- discover a cure for MPESBADD.

When I finally wrapped up my English paper at 11:50 a.m. the next day (it was due at noon), I ran to turn it in. Unfortunately, when I returned to my house, instead of continuing to be productive, I went back to golfing.