The 40ft Post: Too Late to Walk Away

Note: This is a Fantasy Football Blog. The views, similes, and metaphors expressed within this text are not necessarily the views of the author. It may contain offensive language, ill advised pop-culture references, and some trash talk that would be certainly unacceptable if the author’s wife were to read this over his shoulder while he was giggling away at the keyboard. Please don't email her . . . she's got enough to deal with.

So . . . Yahoo Sports has been very quick to point out that my fantasy team "Buy My Book" has a 0-5 record and that the rest of my season is lost.

I keep getting emails about fantasy basketball.

Somebody suggested I start watching hockey.

An ex-girlfriend called me up to tell me that she was feeling down but then Yahoo sent her a weekly recap from a fortnight ago and now she's feeling a lot better.

A telemarketer stopped in mid-spiel and said that maybe I wasn't ready for a Caribbean cruise.

My dentist poked my gums real hard just to make sure I could still feel.

Then he told me I can stop flossing now . . . because why bother.

"But Week 4!" I say. "I only lost by .78, and last week I only lost by 2.24!"

"A little over three points separates me from a 2-3 start!" I continue . . . while the sad Walk Away music from The Incredible Hulk plays quietly in the corner.

You know the song. It's like a Kenny G ballad but without the whole white dude with a perm feel.

https://soundcloud.com/lyricavocalpiano/the-lonely-man-the-incredible-hulk-piano-the-sad-walking-away-song-lol#t=0:13

Man, the late eighties were lit.

Just imagine lighting some scentless candles and putting on a Kenny G album with the un-ironic intention of seducing a woman.

Woof remembers.

And speaking of our dear Karen . . . guess who's not in last place anymore?

You're welcome.

Frank remembers too, but he was a little too cool for Kenny G.

He was a solid Michael Bolton fan.

How can we be lovers if we can't be friends Frank? . . . How?

Now that I've got that song stuck in your head, I feel much better about your total lack of sympathy. 

We've all been there . . . staring down a losing season . . . Wondering where it all went wrong . . . Thinking about all of our drafting choices as if we could only go back and do it again.

The trick is to not give up a single solid inch of confidence in your team. Hulk out, bro. If you can't pull out a winning season, at least you can beat your buddies, parents, brothers, those few nemesis who have ruined your hopes over the years.

Play this game long enough, and everyone is your enemy.

And you only need one win all season to make it all worth while.

It's like golf.

One good solid swing, where the ball goes in both the direction and distance you were hoping for and your day is lit.

Not quite Kenny G and a bottle of Carlos Rossi lit . . . But lit none the less.

And then you can always hitchhike to the next town.

THE BIG NEWS

Trump tweeted that he is angry because the NFL isn't paying enough taxes.

Which is fine.

I mean . . . like really . . . who's side are you on in that particular cat fight?

He also suggested that the only way to deal with North Korea is total nuclear war.

Which . . . because I'm a total cut throat . . . I started dropping all my fantasy players who live within the kill zone.

Except for the Patriots.

Even Kim Jung Un might think twice about going Mano-a-Mano with Belichick.

That and Chris Hogan has been good to me.

But otherwise . . . it looks like the Redskins picked the wrong week to go on Bye.

Good night moon, goodnight Cousins, goodnight Cleveland and Jersey and Colts by the dozens.

I haven't written a rhyming couplet in a very long time and it feels weird.

Not like colonoscopy weird, but like making eye contact with someone who's boobs you've been absentmindedly staring at for an uncomfortable length of time.

Woof knows what I'm talking about.

The Big news is essentially that we can all be dead by this time next week.

Do you really need to keep flossing?

INJURIES AND BAD DECISIONS

Everyone on the Giants is hurt.

Everyone.

They have no running game and not a single wide receiver.

But it's a Sunday Night Game this week, and I have this sinking suspicion they are gonna sneak one wicked win from the Broncos just because the universe likes to be fair once in a while.

Josh Gordon is back from rehab.

Apparently it's going to stick this time.

But not in the way that cocaine kept sticking to that dead hooker.

Frank knows what I'm talking about.

FANTASYLAND

Buy My Book 0-5 (12th place)

Trumps Twitter Game 3-2 (4th place)

Daily Fantasy Week 5 Top 10%

Since I spent my opening monologue boo-hooing my failed fantasy team, I'd like to spend this section with a nice little pick-me-up and brag that my other team of importance is still going strong with 3 wins and the top total score in the league.

But for some reason . . . that feels a little gouache.

Not like fanning a handful of Benjamins in a South Korean massage parlor kind of gouache, but like inviting an underage ingenue over to your private office for a game of CandyLand and a test read of “Last Tango in Paris”

Harvey knows what I’m talking about.

And Dad is probably the only person who is going to get “The Last Tango in Paris” reference.

Which I’m fine with.

But not really.

Cause we lost Mr. Gold after South Korean Massage Parlor.

The point being . . . this season hasn’t been a total loss . . . and to quote Last Tango in Paris Star, Marlon Brando, from a completely unrelated movie:

“I coulda had class . . . I coulda been a contender.”

To which I might add . . . “Yet I’ve chosen neither.”

ButTheseGoTo11 knows what I’m talking about.

Anyway, we’re only a third the way through the full season (including playoffs) and it’s been weird and will only get weirder.

CRAZY STUPID PREDICITONS WEEK 5

The Red Rocket defies all logic and scores high against Buffalo.

34, but I chickened out and went with Brisset, who also scored 34.

With Dalvin Cook and Chris Carson injured, Elijah McGuire becomes the new unsung RB hero.

No such luck.

McCoy outscores LeVeon Bell. (It’s really all I want this week).

No such luck.

Brady takes a knee during the National Anthem.

No such luck

McCown leads the Jets to another victory, because if I can’t win this season, then neither can the Browns.

Win 17-14. So is wasn’t Gangbusters Offensively. But take the win son, take the win.

CRAZY STUPID PREDICTIONS WEEK 6

Jets pull off the upset, Next week’s photo: Sad Brady

Niners beat the Redskins, or as I like to call it, The Santuary Cities beat The Drained Swamp.

Peterson gets injured on the third drive and Arizona calls Kaepernick to see if he’d like to play Running Back

The Colts vs Tennessee is watched only by me and the three other Frank Gore enthusiasts nation wide.

The Giants whomp the Broncos. McCadoo realizes all Manning needs is to get out of Jersey for some fresh air and a couple nibbles off a pot brownie.

Note: The last time the Giants beat the Broncos was in Week 7 2005. My newborn son was just about 5 weeks old and boy were my nipples sore.

Adam knows what I’m talking about.

All right . . . that’s enough for today. Have a good weekend folks . . . and whenever you read something terrible in the news, go out make a millennial register to vote. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.

The 40ft Post: The Knights Who Say Knee

I'm so terribly sorry for skipping last week.

Bringing the funny with so much global disaster seemed, I don't know how to put it, but it seemed like there was something I should be doing elsewhere.

Like writing up a bit on how glorious Eli Manning looked, while at the same time making ironic little jabs about how his receivers wouldn't have to work so hard if he were a better QB, which I would say with the full knowledge that he is a two time Super Bowl MVP and consistently creams "Brady/Belichick Reach Around" making them look awkward and unprepared.

Always prepare for the reach around.

Always.

Like . . . this morning I had a registered nurse . . . describe in detail . . . exactly how to shave my testicles to prepare for an upcoming procedure.

 She wasn't even awkward about it.

The word "shaft" was used and there wasn't any snickering.

All I'm saying is that when Ben McAddo preps Eli for the "Brady/Belichick Reach Around" I'll bet that Manning doesn't snicker either.

That's how much respect I have for him as an athlete.

The point is . . . funny is really difficult when you're feeling the ominous weight of serious shit happening all around you.

So serious, in fact, that an evenly shorn scrotum is like the least of my emotional concerns both globally and internally.

Anyway, I went into a kind of reality funk, and that's really not fair. I know for a fact this is the only thing my brother reads with any consistency that doesn’t have a recommended daily allowance listed on the back.

Food labels.

I'm saying that all he reads is food labels.

And this blog.

So much funnier when I have to explain things.

Just so you know, I am writing this on Tuesday evening, while still processing all the news from Monday.

So if I blow far passed what is appropriate (Trigger Warning), it's only because I envision Mike blowing a large chunk of snot out of his nose while trying to look dignified.

I live for that moment.

Tom Petty's death has been confirmed and I only have one thing to say about that:

Jeff Lynn was ALSO a member of The Traveling Wilburys.

It wasn't just Dylan, Orbison, and Harrison.

Lynn is always getting the well shorn shaft when it comes to name placement.

Why is that important in a Fantasy Football blog?

You ask?

It isn't . . . I just wanted an excuse to return to the penis metaphor so that Mike can envision me sitting in my bathroom with a razor and a worried look on my face.

It's what he lives for.

THE BIG NEWS

So, the National Anthem protests didn't really extend much beyond last week. I mean yeah, sure, there were demonstrations of unity, there a few mentions of who is sitting, who is linking arms, there are a f@#k-ton of think pieces written in every magazine and online blogs.

My favorite line so far is "America is so racist that when someone protests racism, people think they're protesting America."

Damn that's a good line.

Kaepernick still doesn't have a job, but the good people of Jacksonville are clamoring for Chad Henne to take the wheel.

I shit you not.

Allen Hurns and Marqis Lee are not sleepers.

Stop thinking they are Dad.

The other big news is that Cam Newton will only have a decent game if every single Fantasy Expert insists (beyond a shadow of a doubt) that it would be absolute, ridiculous, folly to put him in your line up when you have Stafford on your bench.

Damn Beers at Ten.

That shit had to hurt.

Losing by 32 points, while Cam goes off for 58, while sitting safely on your bench.

Oh . . . and you benched Powell too.

A piece of advice from my favorite RN . . . Instead of using ice packs on your man-berries, use frozen vegetables. Apparently they're lighter, more form fitting, and there's less of a risk of frost bite.

She didn't use man-berries (that was my addition), but THE MORE YOU KNOW.

Am I right?

Anyway, I'm gonna skip the Injuries and Bad Decisions part of this week's blog because I was watching live when Chris Carson got his leg bent back and the image is still burned in my retina.

It was nowhere near the most awful thing I've seen in the last 48 hours.

(I am going to say, that right here, used to be one of the most terrible things I've ever said in my entire existence. And yet, I laughed for five straight minutes, tears streaming down my face, but I'm still going to delete it, because it was that horrible.)

FANTASYLAND

Buy My Book 0-4 (11th place)

Trump's Twitter Game 2-2 (5th place)

Daily Fantasy 7,500th out of 149,944

It's serious overhaul time with Buy My Book. I lost my last match by less than a point.

Not that I'm complaining.

It's not like I had Cam on my bench.

But this team just ain't taking off like it should.

I still don't have a good name for her.

I need something spunky. Something underdoggy but with a comfortable Disney outcome. No Bad News Bears, no Rocky 1; winning sloppily is still far more interesting than losing cute.

Maybe I'll get my son to name the team. He just went undefeated in his third fencing tournament in a row. He knows a thing or two about being small, delicate, and f@#king savage when it comes to stabbing bitches in the chest.

Trump is still pretty savage. Though there are cracks in the facade. In the thin veil between real life and Fantasy Football, I can only root for what is best for everyone.

Though Melvin Gordon was really disappointing last week.

So sad . . . Tough game . . . #littlehands

As for Daily Fantasy, I’m not really sure how I feel about it.

You need to make it to the Top 5 to score any cash, and so far, I’ve been hanging around the Top 20ish.

I keep going into each weekend with like my favorite line-up, but come Sunday morning, I pretty much forget who it is on my team.

I’ll keep up with it . . . I mean come on . . . it’s free . . . but maybe next year I’ll drop some bones on the table to make it a little more interesting. Maybe I’ll do that this year if I’ve got anything left in the porn stash after paying off Steve Burge.

Oh . . . if you’re new to this blog . . . I narrate audio books and work primarily with Romance Fiction, so whenever my wife and I refer to the money in my business bank account . . . we call it the Porn Stash.

Not Porn Stache.

Porn Stash.

It’s a pun.

See . . . so much funnier when I explain things.

CRAZY STUPID PREDICTIONS WEEK 3

Niners get their first win, but Gurley goes off.

Niners lose . . . Gurley Goes OFF

I get my first win because Gurley goes off

Winner!

Cousins starts to rev up his game, but not enough to suggest I wouldn’t be better with Stafford.

Cousins comes through.

Cutler throws for 350 and 2 TDs.

Not even close

Six Teams in each league outscore their projections.

Four. Four lousy Teams beat projections.

CRAZY STUPID PREDICITONS WEEK 5

The Red Rocket defies all logic and scores high against Buffalo

With Dalvin Cook and Chris Carson injured, Elijah McGuire becomes the new unsung RB hero.

McCoy outscores LeVeon Bell. (It’s really all I want this week).

Brady takes a knee during the National Anthem.

McCown leads the Jets to another victory, because if I can’t win this season, then neither can the Browns.

All right. It’s late. There’s stuff not being done. Good luck everybody.

The 40ft Post: Sad Russell Wilson

I don't like the term surreal.

I don't think you should use it unless you are actually standing in front of a painting that happens to have dripping clocks on it.

No dripping clocks, no surrealism.

You can't have it.

I feel the same way about people who point to their nit-pickyness and say that it's their OCD.

Those who suffer from OCD are TERRIFIED of being caught exhibiting obsessive behaviors. So, in reality, you're not suffering from OCD, you're just kind of an asshole.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, just man up and own it. When you’re at someone’s house and you have the need to straighten one of their wall photos, don’t say; “Sorry, it’s just my OCD.” say: “Sorry, I’m just an asshole.”

Anyway,

So, the point is, last week was surreal.

Dripping clocks and all.

The only bankable things that happened was the Brady grudge match against the world . . . and sad face Eli.

I thought he couldn't get any sadder after that Marshall drop, but then Beckham loses the hot-potato game and poor Manning's iris' swelled up like a dog watching people eat.

All I'm saying is that nothing is sadder than a dog watching someone eat.

Except maybe those who drafted Russell Wilson.

Nobody is sadder than those folks.

Me . . . I'm pointing to me . . . and I did the same thing last  year to similar results, because i don't learn things.

Of the thirteen players on my "Buy My Book" Team, only Frank Gore and Phil Dawson beat their projections.

I came seriously close to dropping everyone and loading that entire team up with old folks. I need to get my hands on Larry Fitzgerald and either Jason Witten or Antonio Gates. I'm not sure.

I'd love to point to any guys my team and blame them, but since it seems to be all of them, I've only myself to blame.

Or . . . 

Or . . .

We remain calm and blame reality.

THE BIG NEWS

Offenses have been terrible.

So terrible.

In one of my fantasy leagues, only one team out of twelve exceeded expectations. Beat projections. Didn't look foolish. Well . . . I guess half of them won . . . So not so foolish, but not pretty.

Compare, for example, Russell Wilson in preseason versus Russell Wilson in reality.

I don't have the direct statistics (they'd be meaningless anyway), but preseason Wilson looked off-the-hook sharp, his receivers two steps ahead of their coverage, his offensive line so ominous John Williams begged to compose their theme song.

(If you don't get that reference, John Williams composed the music for Jaws and Darth Vader)

(He's no slouch when it comes to creating ominous atmospheres)

However, the season begins, and reality steps up and says . . . "Nah"

The Seahawk Offense made Hoyer look dangerous in comparison.

They were so bad I'm considering streaming defenses against them.

(Not really. Between the Browns and the Jets and the Bears and the Niners and the Bengals and the Giants, there are just way too many Pick-6's out there.)

It's like harvest season.

It is harvest season.

And I just read a report that California is in serious agricultural trouble because there aren't enough migrant farm workers. Two million people this year are going to die of famine, and we've got fruit rotting on the vine.

Excellent.

INJURIES AND BAD DECISIONS

Bradford has got a bruised bone.

(I've been staring at the screen for twenty minutes trying to think of the appropriate dick joke . . . But nothing's coming.)

Read that last sentence again.

Everybody is otherwise questionable. Except B.J. Goodson, one of my starting linebackers from Monday night's game. He'll definitely be out.

Which is kinda funny, because he was good to go about ten minutes prior to the game when I checked my line-up, and yet the announcer said he was being replaced by a rookie about two minutes into the game.

Yahoo was kind enough to send me an email to notify me of Goodson's OUT status at about 6:00 am Tuesday morning.

Not sure what kind of algorithm they're using, but it is slower to see trouble than the Giants' offensive line.

Six sacks, bro, they might as well put in a turnstyle and add a cover charge to enter the pocket.

The bouncer at a Chuck E. Cheese is harder to get past.

I could go on, but Steve is getting a text from Peter right now.

"Why can't he leave my Giants alone?!"

Because, and this is the honest truth, I'm a Niners fan, and I'm a sad petty little man.

My bone however, is delightfully unbruised.

FANTASYLAND

Buy My Book 0-2 11th place

Trump's Twitter Game 0-2 10th place

Daily 114k out of 301k

I have nothing really to say about any of this, I'm as unsurprised as you are.

Buy My Book was a terrible idea.

And Trump’s Twitter Game, so funny this time last year, now is literally picking fights with Nuclear Powers across the Globe.

I thought Buy My Book was fun and pithy and on message while I run the marketing portion of my life. The one where I get people to pay me to let them read words.

Not like the free lolz you're getting here.

The professional lolz.

But funny thing happened on the way to the forum; sales tanked right along with my tanking fantasy team.

That's none of your problem (though it is a little funny), however, as well as being small and petty, I'm also curiously superstitious. I don't freak out about black cats or nothing, but when you tie your real life and your fantasy life together . . . maybe they actually do get tied.

Maybe sales dropped because I drafted a bunch of crappy teams.

Maybe my teams are crap because literary fiction by an unknown author is a gamble even when you have a marketing budget and a blurb from Stephen King on the cover.

I have no such blurb.

I could make one up, but that would be dishonest.

And Trumps actual Twitter hasn’t killed anyone yet, but you KNOW it’s only a matter of time.

I'll give it two more weeks.

Then an entire overhaul will be required. Teams, Names, wardrobe choices, hell . . . I might switch from IPAs to something disgusting like Bud Light.

I don't know what that will look like, but there will absolutely be a time when I put Eli in my line-up because he is waaaaaaaaaaay overdue for a killer game.

And so am I.

CRAZY/STUPID PREDICTIONS WEEK 2

Bradford is once again a Top 5 QB.

Sticks and stones may break his bones, but words only bruise.

49er's beat the Seahawks.

It was a moral victory, which they say is the worst kind.

Kaepernick is hired.

No, but there's an amazing piece on him in the Bleacher Report.

Burkhead out-scores Gore, I don't play him but have no regrets.

Actually Gore was my best RB last week . . . No regrets.

Steve and I make it through the afternoon unscathed.

We're both alive, so it's a moral victory, which they say is the best kind.

CRAZY/STUPID PREDICTIONS WEEK 3

Niners get their first win, but Gurley goes off.

I get my first win because Gurley goes off

Cousins starts to rev up his game, but not enough to suggest I wouldn’t be better with Stafford.

Cutler throws for 350 and 2 TDs.

Six Teams in each league outscore their projections.

Allright, that’s enough pandering this week. May your Newtons fig out, may your Cutlers slice and dice, may your Russells be more terrier than jack.