It’s hard to glance at the world nowadays without becoming the slightest bit scared. We’re in the midst of the worst economic crisis in decades. Rising unemployment, bad mortgages and billion-dollar Ponzi schemes dominate newspaper columns and television newscasts each morning, noon and night. It’s difficult to ignore.

Luckily in my world, I dread none of the above. I have a job, own no home and up until a few months ago thought “Ponzi” was how 350lb. Italian-American males pronounce a certain character on Happy Days. Instead, it’s the little things that shiver my spine. Lots and lots of little things. It’s how I roll. I sweat the small stuff. Big time. 

I become unhinged by the thought of hangovers, bad television and cheesy Top 40 music. I cringe at fantasy-killing moments like April slumps, rainouts, pulled hamstrings, double plays with the bases loaded and high WHIPs.

I’m afraid that both 1B David Ortiz and OF Magglio Ordonez will not hit more than 45 HRs combined in 2009.

I’m petrified by jumpy owners of SS Troy Tulowitzski. Take a look at his April 2007 numbers and you'll see he didn't club his first HR until April 27----or eclipse 5 RBI until April 24. His final numbers: .291 AVG, 24 HR, 99 RBI. So technically he's ahead of schedule in 2009.

I’m fearful of a world sans Golden Girls. With the recent news of Dorothy Zbornak’s passing—along with Sophia Petrillo’s death in 2008, we’re down to two survivors--- Rose Nylund and Blanche Devereaux. Say what you will about the geriatric NBC comedy, but from 1985-1992 no other show was as cutting-edge. Are you listening According to Jim?! Bea Arthur’s Dorothy always seemed to be one rant away from dropping a slew of  “F-Bombs” on dumb Rose or shady ex-husband Stanley. And whenever Sophia would barge into sexy Blanche’s bedroom, you never knew what you were going to get. It could be Blanche, a jar of peanut butter and a German Sheppard. It could be Blanche, six Spanish groundskeepers and a gerbil. It could be Blanche, a bottle of olive oil and kielbasa. Anything was possible.

I’m scared of what Royals P Zach Grienke can do on a team with decent offense. How about: 22-4, 3.29ERA, 210K. 1.10 WHIP?  Why not!  Last year Grienke gave up two earned runs or fewer in 19 starts, half of which resulted in a no decision or loss.  Signed through 2012, Kansas City fans have a few years to appreciate such dominance—that is, until he becomes too expensive to afford.

It’s troubling that fantasy owners may never know the full extent of how dominant P Francisco Liriano could have been had his injury never occurred? Think Pedro Martinez 1999 dominant.

I’m scared that after participating last week in a beer-drinking game called “David Hasselhoff,” I am now experiencing eight of the nine symptoms seen in Swine Flu victims. Luckily--the earache, bruised ankles and mysterious finger laceration I’m also suffering from are inconsistent with the same pig virus that’s currently spreading across the world.

I’m terrified that just a few days later, I’m scheduled to board a Montreal-bound van filled with a new batch of ravenous “Hasselhoff” devotees.

I’m horrified that at thirty-two years old, I still partake in beer-games, specifically one named after a recovering celebrity alcoholic. 

I’m concerned that in a mere four months I’ll have no choice but to select RB Adrian Peterson if handed the first pick in my fantasy football draft. Don’t get me wrong--- Peterson proved naysayers wrong in 2008 by playing in all sixteen games and amassing 1700+ total yards—but his injury history, no QB and whacky Minnesota play-calling is enough to make you scream MATT FORTE, MATT FORTE!!! Drafting AP first overall is a risk, but also a reward as Cleveland, Detroit (twice), San Francisco and Cincinnati are all on the Vikings schedule in 2009.

I’m concerned for owners who dropped non-flashy yet consistent fantasy pieces like SP Mark Buerhle and 3B Mike Lowell for hot-starters who’ve since cooled----namely OF Jordan Schafer and IF Emilio Bonifacio.

I’m worried for Marc Badain, the Oakland Raiders finance executive and de facto salary “cap-ologist.” Seriously---someone put this poor guy in a padded room! Remove his shoelaces! Dope him up! Put a Dora the Explorer disc on repeat and leave him alone for a week! Believe me--he needs it! How his employer drafted Maryland WR Darrius Heyward-Bey with the seventh overall pick---when everyone projected him as a late first rounder---is incomprehensible. By drafting Heyward-Bey, they must now hand over $20 million in guaranteed money to a player who’s worth just a fraction of that. Awesome! It’s the equivalent of paying $250,000 for a yellow 2009 Kia Spectra equipped with manual windows, no AC and a tape deck. My God, Oakland is a mess! Quite frankly, I’m surprised a Raiders fan still hasn’t pulled a “Jack Ruby surprise” on Al Davis in the Coliseum parking lot.

I’ve never been more frightened of blue collar, overachieving medical-student-types like suspected Craigslist Killer Phil Markoff. Even more so than gun-toting gangsters! Committing murder---then cranking The Frey on the ride home or catching an episode of Brothers and Sisters before bed is SCARY.   

I’m startled by how gifted you are at evaluating talent  if you correctly predicted Texas’ Frank Francisco would have more saves than Francisco Rodriguez thru April.

Scary to think---but come October, we may be talking about how Danny Haren won the NL Cy Young with a .500 record.