When I snicker at college kids with popped collars, I can’t help but feel a little hypocritical.

After all, I, too, belong to a fraternity. I don’t have any apparel that bears letters of the Greek alphabet, nor have I ever been branded or gone through a grueling pledging process.

Instead, my fraternity is fantasy sports. Fake baseball and football – and let’s not forget hockey – have served a sort of tie that’s bound several circles of my friends together for years.