From My Parents' Garage to FantasyTrophies.com

The early days of creating fantasy football trophies—and turning Fantasy Trophies into a business—were a long way from what they are today.

The year was 1995. The internet was still in its infancy, most people were still figuring out what the heck a "domain name" was, and there certainly wasn't an Amazon Prime button to click when you wanted something delivered tomorrow.

But I had a trophy.

And I had a feeling it could be something special.

My buddy Mario was one of the guys who convinced me that this crazy trophy I'd created for my own fantasy football league might actually be something other leagues would want.

His thinking was pretty simple: every fantasy football champion wants to be remembered.

He was right.

So we started researching this new thing called the internet and figured out how to register a domain name. Before long, I had FantasyTrophies.com.

Now I just needed to figure out how to actually make enough trophies to sell.

Back to the Drawing Board

There was one small problem with the original Armchair Quarterback.

I'd sculpted the first trophy out of plaster, which was fine for a one-of-a-kind trophy for my own league—but not exactly ideal if I wanted to make more of them.

So I went back to work and resculpted the Armchair Quarterback from scratch.

The design itself wasn't going anywhere.

He had to have the leather football helmet, a beer in one hand and the remote control in the other. He needed that neck roll that looked like it belonged on an old-school linebacker, the slippers, and, of course, the Hall of Fame beer gut.

That's the Armchair Quarterback.

I wasn't trying to make him look like some generic football player. He was supposed to look like all of us sitting on the couch on Sunday afternoon, convinced that we could coach the team better than the guys on the sideline.

Once the sculpture was finished, I had a professional mold made by a sculptor on the west side of Cleveland, my hometown.

He also suggested using a dense tooling resin for the trophies. It gave the Armchair Quarterback the weight and detail I was looking for without making the trophy impossibly heavy.

Then came the bronze finish and an oak base designed to display the names of champions from years past.

I stood back and looked at it and thought:

I've got it.

This was no longer just a trophy I made for my fantasy league.

This was a championship trophy.

Welcome to the Garage

The next step was figuring out where I was going to make them.

The answer?

My parents' garage.

That's right. Before there was a studio in Brooklyn, there was a garage in Cleveland.

I started casting the trophies there, and my Uncle Joe helped me by making the early oak bases.

It wasn't exactly a high-tech operation.

But it was ours.

I kept working on the website and put together a little pamphlet to help spread the word. And yes, I said pamphlet.

For anyone under 30, feel free to look that one up.

I'd take those pamphlets with me to Browns games and hand them out around the stadium and in the tailgating parking lots. I even started bringing the trophy itself along.

And every once in a while, somebody would see it and want to buy it right there in the parking lot.

Looking back, those were some pretty exciting days.

I could see people's reaction when they saw the trophy in person. The enthusiasm was real. They got it immediately.

I knew I didn't need to convince everyone.

I just needed people to see the trophy.

Watching the Numbers Climb

I'll never forget checking the website counter in those early days.

Back then, seeing a few more people visit the site felt like a major event.

I'd check the counter and see the numbers climbing, and it was incredibly exciting.

Then came the orders.

I still remember the feeling of shipping a trophy to another state.

Think about that for a second.

A trophy that started as an idea in my head—and was eventually sculpted in my studio, cast in my parents' garage, and shipped out to a fantasy football league I'd never even met.

Every new state felt like a little victory.

It meant another league had discovered the Armchair Quarterback.

And somewhere out there, another fantasy football champion was going to have his name permanently attached to that championship.

That's what made it all so much fun.

From Cleveland to Brooklyn

Fast-forward to today, and the scenery has changed quite a bit.

My studio is now in Brooklyn, NY, rather than my parents' garage in Cleveland.

The internet has changed.

The website has changed.

The way people shop has changed.

But one thing hasn't changed.

I still make every trophy.

I still take the time to create each one and make sure it lives up to the same standard I had in mind when I first sculpted the Armchair Quarterback.

The trophy may travel across the country, but the idea behind it hasn't changed since those early days.

A fantasy football championship should be something you can actually show off.

Something your league remembers.

Something that gets passed from champion to champion and becomes part of your league's history.

And while I'm now making the bases myself instead of my Uncle Joe, I still think he'd be pretty proud of how far that little garage operation has come.

Rest his soul.

From my parents' garage in Cleveland to my studio in Brooklyn, it's been one hell of a ride.

And after all these years, I still get the same feeling when I ship a trophy to a new league.

There's another champion out there.

And now they've got a trophy worthy of it.