Well . . . here we be . . . Week 14 and the final few games before the 2016 season is just a hazy image in the rearview mirror.Many chickens have been sacrificed.
Beer has been consumed in copious amounts.
My nacho to body mass ratio is at the highest its been since the summer of '98 when Tostido's unveiled it's lime tortilla chips.
Christmas is a scant few weeks away.
It's raining where I live.
I've yet to shower today.
(Scratch that . . . I always find it tough to be funny with a dirty butt-hole. Don't know why that is.)
Alright, so now I'm shaved and squeaky and my t-shirt hasn't quite yet stretched around the middle. I've just been informed by my wife that I'm to expect a Christmas tree at some point in the day (no specifics given) which means that I'll also be responsible today for digging ornaments out of a garage and searching for our copy of The Jackson 5 Christmas Album.
There also might be a last minute scramble for "It's A Wonderful Life." on DVD.
Speaking of wonderful lives . . .
Much to my chagrin . . . It seems as though my fantasy teams will all finish out the year with winning records (a monumental first I might add), and I'm in the playoffs in two of them.
(the third is an 11th hour nail biter . . . we'll get to that in a bit.)
And since George Bailey will be spending the evening going over his life decisions . . . I thought that looking back over my decisions this fantasy year might be fun . . . illuminating . . . and just this side of ego-maniacal.
THE YEAR OF THE WIDE RECEIVER IN THE FIRST ROUND
Much has been written about picking wide receivers often and early. This may have worked out for the Antonio Brown holders (I'm one of those), maybe a couple of the Julio Jonesers, but all in all, the WR-WR-WR plan seems to have sunk people.
Ha-Ha . . . my step son would tweet.
However, I did break with a little tradition and grabbed Antonio in Teddy's Team, and of course, AJ MF Green in Cheney's Team.
David Johnson was the undisputed pick for Trump's Team, and that, as Robert Frost said, has made all the difference.
So . . . even though I went WR in two out of three leagues . . . I still don't recommend it . . . unless you're looking at the back of the round and the only bankable playa left . . . is Adrian Peterson.
Or Gronk.
LOL . . . my step son would text.
That really had to hurt.
TO QB OR NOT TO QB?
This is the question that plagues me every damn year.
Every expert analyst says "Wait on picking up a QB, you stupid head! Bortles will be available in the 7th round, you knuckle dragging fart swallow. Why go with Rodgers when you can steal Palmer five rounds later, you pickled rind of potato bug dung?"
Yeah . . . I hear it. I hear it every year. And then I see Drew Brees late in the third round, and I'm like "This is so stupid but I'm gonna do it any way."
I got away with it with Rodgers.
I got away with it with Brees.
I DID NOT get away with it with Russell Effing Wilson.
And you poor poor children who reached for Newton (Adam), that's gotta feel weird. Like grinding on the second hottest girl in the club only to find out she's your cousin.
Or has a penis.
Or both.
Wilson did win me a key game . . . so at least there's that.
INJURIES AND BAD DECISIONS:
If you remember from my first piece, I was very wary of my extremely successful ability to pick a injury prone team. It's not avoidable, but my track record with guys that go down in the first few weeks is unparalleled.
Last year I blamed my team names. So I went with unstoppable forces this year and aside from losing Keenan Allen early and the pipe dream that was CJ Anderson, most of my teams made it through in tact.
AJ MF Green is another story all together.
I could really use him this week against my brother.
But alas.
DRAFT ANALYSIS:
So I went back and looked at this years draft to see if I could glean any genius from those in the upper ranks, and make myself feel bad for the ones that got away, but in all actuality, this was a year where playing the wire, making smart trades, streaming defenses, and David Johnson seemed to be the only guarantees of success.
For my part, I probably should have traded Josh Gordon to my brother (Jay Ajayi was his offer), and in the third round of Trump's Draft, I had the chance to grab McCoy instead of Anderson.
But I remember that choice . . . and it was purposeful . . . I had McCoy in another league and I didn't want him to sink two ships if he went down.
Could you imagine a team with McCoy and David Johnson?
Neither can I.
But there would have been a good chance that I wouldn't have lost to Mr. Gold . . . twice.
That burns.
But not as much as losing to Mike twice.
Russell Effing Wilson is to blame for these scars that won't heal.
Reaching for Lavonte David was probably dumb, but it felt smart at the time, and that's about it.
The lesson learned is that the draft this year wasn't particularly fond of anyone, and streaming defenses, tight ends, and watching the wire like a hawk was the way to go.
FANTASYLAND:
Teddy's Stump Speech (9-4) 2nd place, in the playoffs next week.
Cheney's Shogun (8-5) 4th place, in the playoffs right now.
Trump's Twitter Game (8-5) 4th place, nail biting finale.
Now we all know that the REAL Trump was victorious this season in the most grotesque way possible, which, if we are to extrapolate, means that my Trump Team looks like he has no shot, and yet will pull off a last minute triumph that will go down in the history books as the most unlikely event ever witnessed by a population of knuckle dragging fart swallows.
The League is set up with divisions . . . to make it to the playoffs one has to be the top of the division with the one wildcard going to the person who is in fourth place overall.
That's me right now . . . however . . . it could change on a dime.
See, sitting happily in 5th place is Steve and we have identical records (though I'm way ahead of him in total points)
If I win . . . I go to the playoffs.
If I lose . . . and he loses . . . I go to the playoffs.
If I lose . . . and he wins . . . my dreams shatter so badly that not even a bottle of scotch and a red-headed call-girl will be able to cheer me up.
And it gets even twistier.
The team I am up against is loaded with Stafford, McCoy, and McKinnon.
Guys I need to have extremely good days if I'm going to beat my brother in the other league.
So . . . essentially . . . I need to root not for my unwavering success . . . I need to root for Steve's demise.
Which feels weird.
Not like trying to be funny with a dirty butt-hole weird . . . but weird none-the-less.
Swelling with glee for a good friend's pain is not entirely unpleasant though.
As my brother intoned once . . . the lap dance is always better when the stripper is crying.
He got that from The Bloodhound Gang.
I hope.
Anyway, since I busted my wrist last week (not doing what you just thought I was doing) and didn't post, here are the results from Week 12's CSP's and a look into Week 14.
CRAZY STUPID PREDICTIONS WEEK 12
Watkins surprises the hell out of everyone.
He did go for 80 yards on his first day back. I'll call that a win.
The third string QB for Chicago makes Meredith a bigger star than Hoyer ever did.
NOPE
Cleveland surprises the Giants by wearing clown make-up and they still lose.
DON'T KNOW HOW TO RATE THIS ONE
New Orleans becomes a top ten defense because I ridiculed them.
HELL NOPE . . . AND BREES KILLED ME WEEK 13
The Jets beat New England and Frankie gives up ever watching football again because he's never been this happy and wants to go out on top.
YEAH . . . NOPE.
CRAZY STUPID PREDICTIONS WEEK 14
Niners beat the Jets.
Bengals fall to the Browns.
Adam's WolfHunter falls to My Cheney
Steve just falls.
George Bailey decides the world really is better if he was never born.
Henry F. Potter for President.
My wife just arrived with a christmas tree, a couple of bottles of wine, and the crazed look of a woman who spent the better part of Saturday at a shopping mall.
I better hide the call girl.
