The sights, the sounds, even the smells — as foul as some might be — were as familiar as my own reflection. That is, if my reflection were magnified some 160 times.

If you’ve ever played fantasy football — and given that it’s a $3-billion a year industry, I’m guessing a few of you have — then you recognize the live draft environment. At its essence, it’s a group of eight to 12 football-loving dudes (or, occasionally, dude-ettes) armed with an assortment of magazines, computer printouts, homemade cheat sheets and their most stoic poker faces as they each attempt to assemble the greatest stat-producing assortment of NFL players on the planet.

As mentioned, it’s a scene I know well. I’m not sure how many fantasy football drafts I’ve participated in since my first 17 years ago, but I think the proper scientific term would be somewhere between “a lot” and “a buttload.”

Yet I’d never witnessed a draft event quite like the one I attended Friday night.

That was the night that Waco’s own ESPN 1660 AM radio station held its annual listener fantasy football draft. Or, rather, I should write drafts in the plural sense — because there were 16 leagues under one roof all drafting at once.

Obviously, this wasn’t your average draft. This was your average draft giving birth to a litter of puppies.

It’s all the brainchild of local sales executive and fantasy sports guru Steve May. Five years ago, 1660 formed a series of fantasy football listener leagues, promoting the venture on its morning sports talk show, then hosted by Steve Fallon. (Yes, there were enough listeners to fill a league. Five leagues, in fact). The radio station “drafted” May to organize the process.

The participants competed for various prizes, and in true fantasy football fashion, the idea exploded. By the third year, May was overseeing 10 leagues, then 15 by last year. This year, the number has jumped to 16 total leagues, the maximum May said he could handle.

“Any more than that would be impossible,” May said. “I do have a wife and kids.”

May serves as commissioner for every last one of the leagues, meaning he has to oversee transactions, settle trade disputes and, of course, organize a draft event for roughly 160 people. (And you thought finding a suitable draft night for your league was tough).

And what a draft it was. Imagine a fraternity that only pledged fantasy football nuts, and you’ll get an idea of the populace. Though, believe it or not, the draftees were not universally male — May said three married couples are even serving as co-owners this season. (Let’s hope “Drafting Nick Folk in the sixth round” isn’t grounds for divorce).

The banquet room at George’s, this year’s draft headquarters, was marked by a dizzying maze of tables, one for each league, complete with assigned seating (by draft order, of course).

As for me, I’d been commissioned to play in a bragging rights-only media league against my colleagues in the radio and TV industries. (Needless to say, I’m not worried).

Smack talk flows freely

Ah, yes. A river of smack talk wider than the Brazos flowed in and around 1660’s massive fantasy football smorgasbord, as standard draft-day etiquette dictates.

For instance, when May made an announcement that fantasy owner Brian Brown would be playing a rock concert along with his band Sloppy Joe later in the evening, one heckler hollered, “Didn’t you guys break up?”

Brown didn’t miss a beat, offering, “Only your marriage.”

And, not surprisingly, when the 2007 overall champion John Hall arose to accept his trophy, he was serenaded by a raucous (and jealous) chorus of boos. Heck, I booed too, and I didn’t even play in the league last year. But Hall received a five-night cruise to Cozumel as his grand prize, so I think his feelings weren’t hurt too bad.

Despite its grand scale, this draft night was a lot like the typical fantasy football draft. Like the typical draft, it didn’t start on time.

But finally, a refrain of LaDainian Tomlinsons wafted into the stuffy air, and we were off.

Many a fantasy football title has been won — or lost — on Draft Day, so the next couple of hours were rife with contemplative deliberation, as each owner made his own critical make-or-break choices. (For those ladies who don’t quite get it, think of it as trying to decide on a prom dress. Or, better yet, a wedding gown).

Room full of ‘that guy’

Still, the process has its share of lighter moments and witty banter. A constant source of humor is the ubiquitous “that guy.” You know that guy — every league has one. That guy who never can keep up with who’s already been drafted. In this case, the room was filled with 16 of that guy.

I won’t call out who that guy was at our table, but he does bear a striking resemblance to the executive director of the Texas Sports Hall of Fame.

The sheer quantity of the drafts all unfolding out at once sometimes made you feel like you were drafting in stereo. At one point, in the 10th round of our draft, the name of former Heisman winner Ricky Williams was invoked. Like clockwork, Ricky Williamses started popping up at tables all around us, in rapid-fire succession.

I’d witnessed plenty of receiver runs or kicker runs in past fantasy drafts, but I’d never seen a Ricky Williams run before.

Seven rounds later, after a fit of final irreverence over the mispronunciation of our table’s Mr. Irrelevant — a local radio professional selected Pee-Ray Thomas, rather than Pierre — we were done.

As I left to chew on weightier matters (like dinner), I turned around and cast one final glance at the 12 dozen dudes who remained, my new band of fantasy brothers. Many of the other leagues were wrapping up their drafts as well, and as they claimed the likes of Kevin Walter and Jason Campbell and the Jaguars’ defense as their very own, a thought struck my mind:

Never has so much irrelevance been stuffed into one room.

bcherry@wacotrib.com

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