So I got a call from my dad a few days ago.
He sounded very concerned.
The reason he sounded concerned was because my book publisher just went out of business 12 weeks before my first novel was set to go to print.
I told him what I pretty much have said to everyone, which is that I'm at the bottom of a soul crushing existential crisis. No biggie.
You're probably wondering what any of that has to do with a fantasy football blog.
I'll get there . . . I promise.
See . . . the thing is . . . and remember that I'm still contractually obligated not to say anything nasty about my former firm . . . the thing is . . . I knew about four weeks after signing my contract, that there were going to be problems.
I legally can't say how I knew.
I just knew.
It was the same kind of feeling one might get in late September after drafting CJ Spiller in the first round of 2013. Or Monte Ball, who couldn't possibly suck with a QB like Peyton. Or the guy last year who grabbed Melvin Gordon with the third pick, or I with Eddie Lacy.
A running back who will now and forever be described by me as "The Jello Bowl of Rolling Sadness."
Then something occurred to me last night while watching "The JBoRS" against the Raiders in a preseason game.
He looked really good.
Like First Round Draft Pick, kinda good.
And then I felt a little guilty. The guy, after all, submarined my entire STD roster last year, because I knew going into the season "The JBoRS" is traditionally a slow starter, so I rolled with him about four weeks longer than I should have.
Couldn't help it. I have a particular fantasy man-crush on bruising running backs in high powered offenses.
The logic is sound.
I checked it twice.
But wise men say . . . only fools rush in.
(Note: that was both a football pun AND an Elvis reference. Or UB40 if you're my age, or Haley Reinhart if you're an American idol fan with your own Snapchat account.)
Point is . . . sometimes you just can't help falling in love.
Like for me, it's Arian Foster (whose jersey BTW is hanging as a sound baffle in my home studio).
I just love watching the guy play. It's like he's handed the ball, he reaches out, and then rides the wave of the defensive line like Patrick Swayze in Point Break.
Why did they have to remake that movie?
Leave my childhood alone you son-of-a-bitch.
And here's the thing . . . he's playing for the Dolphins this year. There's gotta be a water metaphor there but it's escaping me.
But they don't exactly have a lot of oomph when it comes to featuring a lead back.
(Okay . . . Ricky Williams . . . Reggie Bush 2012 . . . shush you)
Lamar Miller has been on the very edge of a break-out campaign since 2013.
That's gotta suck. Living on the edge like that.
And with Foster . . . I know . . . I know he's gonna tear some soft tissue early enough in the season that the person who drafted him is gonna wish they went with a kicker instead, but, I promise you this, when we get to the tail end of Round 4, I'm gonna be scrolling down the draft rankings and doing some quick calculations in my head.
It's just a thing I will do.
I won't necessarily draft him, but I'll be thinking about it. What I'm thinking is wrong, but I'll be doing it anyway.
And Foster isn't my only Achilles Heel. I was super high on Darren McFadden last year, grabbed him in both leagues, and when he started breaking my heart, I dropped him a few weeks later because I was saving roster space for Kniles Davis.
Had I only known.
Run DMC ended up being RB5 last year. So even if I didn't reap the benefits, I was at least half right.
Not so much with Kniles.
And, to strengthen my point, I'm not the only girl in the league who has certain proclivities when it comes to approaching draft day.
My brother's Inside Line-Backer Trigger Finger gets itchy at the back of Round 3.
Mr. Frank is a Jets fan whose signature move was to high five everyone in the bar every time Eric Decker got the ball last year.
Then he'd look over at his partner and say "See! I told you! That's MY decker right there, baby, yeah!"
I might have made that up.
Anyway,
If you want Drew Brees you better grab him in the first round, because Karen is gonna get him in the second. She's the nice lady with the filthy mouth I mentioned in the last blog. Again, she won last year, so I'm just gonna keep my mouth shut.
Grandpa Puddin' Pop stretches for Patriots, and you'll only hear him swear like a sailor if someone grabs Gronkowski before him in the first round. He will grab Brady in the 4th. (My first prediction for the year)
My buddy Peter has got a thing for old guys.
His dream roster would look like: Phillip Rivers, Steve Smith, Larry Fitzgerald, Matt Forte, Frank Gore, Antonio Gates, Phil Dawson, and the 1985 Bears Defense. And then his bench would be filled with NY Giants.
Actually, Rivers might be gang busters this year. It's the first time in a decade that his wife hasn't given birth to a new baby during the preseason.
Poor guy couldn't pull out of his own drive way.
But this year he might be getting a full 8 hours of sleep.
And Keenan Allen.
Which sort of leads me to the darker side of the spectrum.
The guys we hate.
For every Foster, Brees, Jet, Old Guy . . . there's that list of players that we wouldn't touch with Michael Phelps' torso.
Dude's got a long torso.
All I'm sayin'
For me . . . that guy is Eli Manning.
"Two time Super Bowl MVP Manning?" you say.
Yes, I reply.
"The QB you can draft in Round 12 and has a 95% chance to give you a Top 10 finish, Manning?" you say a little more smugly.
Yes, I say, but I'm now looking at my feet.
"Doesn't he play for the Giants?" Peter asks.
I guess, I murmur, as I go to the fridge looking for an unexpired Yoplait.
"Wait though!" you shout. "Doesn't he get to throw to Odell Beckham and pre-season darling Sterling Sheppard this year?!"
I'm now hiding behind my couch with the dust bunnies and sticky Otter Pop wrappers.
See . . . the thing is . . . I don't hate the player. I just hate the player in THIS game.
If you wanna roll with him this year. Do it. I ain't got no qualms against him.
But do not . . . I repeat . . . do not roll with him in a QB committee.
Every week he sits on your bench will be a 5 TD 372 yard barnstormer.
Every week he leads your roster will be a 7 interception blowout because the Giants are leading 7-0 and McAdoo wants the offense to slow down.
I'm not saying that could happen.
I'm saying that will happen.
Happens every year.
Take my word.
Rolling with Eli is like picking up a pretty girl at the bar, with long legs, a saucy mouth and just enough make-up to accentuate, only when you bring her home she tells you she is a born-again christian, and she's also a vegan who doesn't like to read and is covered in cat hair.
(I didn't mean "born again" as a terrible trait, I meant "chaste." Very, very, chaste.)
All I'm sayin'
Now, a savvy reader like yourself might think that this is some Inception level subterfuge. That I'm purposely writing bad things about the guy to push him further down the draft order so I can snatch him up. Maybe it will make me feel better after grabbing "The Jello Bowl of Rolling Sadness" in the second round.
Those that know me, know that ain't likely.
Or is it?
I might just be playing you like Kevin Costner played the Seattle Seahawks in "Draft Day"
Which, by the way, has a cameo of Arian Foster.
No comments:
Post a Comment