Warning: this post contains discussion of Fantasy Football. And swearing. Lots of swearing. Avert your children's eyes.
I play in two fantasy football leagues. They're run by the same guy, Jon Stover. Last week, I was matched up with Stover in his Beyond The Jimmy Hat league. I was 5-3 and had won 5 of my last 6 games. He was 2-6 and dead in the water. Yet, after all the Sunday games had ended, his Pennsylvania Dutch Ovens led my Whoreville Fucksticks 92-78.
All his players had played already, but I had one left: Mike Wallace. No, not this guy and not this guy either. Mike Wallace, the wide receiver for the Pittsburgh Steelers.
Never heard of him? I'm not surprised. The short version is I did an f'n terrible job of drafting the Fucksticks and as a result I have to hit the waiver wire pretty hard each week. Wallace showed some promise and was available for free so I grabbed him and dropped him right into my lineup.
So, Monday night comes, and through the third quarter Wallace has 69 yards and a touchdown. That's good for 12 points with a quarter to go. I'm an f'n genius! All Wallace needs is 11 yards for a tie. If he gets 21 yards or scores again, I win. I can just see the little balls of sweat dripping down Stover's forehead and onto the shaft of the penis he surely has in his mouth as he watches his team lose in the most improbable way.
But my revelry is short lived. The Steelers are up big at that point and they go into full run mode. Wallace barely sees the field in the fourth quarter, doesn't accumulate even another yard and as a result, I lose, 92-90.
Fast forward to this past weekend. In Stover's other league, the (Foot)balls league, my Gashouse Gorillas (reference explained here) are playing his team, who's name he changes on a weekly basis. It's currently called "They Fucking Superimposed Me", and I have no idea what it refers to, but Stover is a pretty funny guy so he's probably talking about his penis. Or glory holes.
Unlike the Fucksticks though, the Gorillas are actually a pretty good team. ESPN projects that I'll win. But after the Sunday games conclude I'm down big, 88-62. It's Déjà poop all over again.
At this point all of Stover's players are done, but (again) I have one left for Monday night: The Ravens Defense/Special Teams. The Ravens are playing the Cleveland Browns, who's offense is stupendously horrific. Still, 26 points is a massive amount for any defense to make up, even against a team as turdish as the Browns.
Despite my pessimism, with about 10 minutes to go in the game the Browns have thrown two picks, one for a touchdown, given up a bunch of sacks and not scored a single point. All of this combines for 24 fantasy points, making the score 88-86. I'm only down two! FUCKING TWO POINTS!! COME ON YOU PIECES OF SHIT!!! ONE INT, TWO SACKS! PLEASE!
Nope. The Browns were sitting back throwing every damn down but, somehow Brady Quinn didn't throw any more interceptions and didn't get sacked. Final score: 88-86.
My comeback falls short. Again. I lose to Stover. Again. By two f'n points. Again.
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1 comments:
The ironic thing about the Ravens' D not getting any more turnovers or sacks in the 4th quarter is that Brady was too BAD to get picked. Most of his passes sailed ten yards out of bounds.
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