So Week 11 is upon us folks.
Not that I need to tell you that, though there is a certain Packer Fan in one of my leagues that has refused to drop Eddie Lacy.
It's time brother . . . it's time.
Christine Michael will be grabable tomorrow morning. Go get him.
This time last year I was staring down the long road of play-off ineligibility, hoping to retrieve at least some dignity, and maybe pull off an upset that will hurt the chances of my arch nemesis(s).
If you do not have at least several arch nemesis(s) in this game, you are not playing the right way at all.
Like at all at all.
You should be growing enemies the way my brother grows butter-nut squash.
Large, tasteless, and prolific.
I have hoped that I would grow my enemy base with this blog alone, though from the reports, I think I've only truly offended Peter, who is very sensitive about his Giants, and let's face it . . . that's low hanging fruit.
Uncle Frankie is unflappable when I tease the Jets. Steve is pricing Cowboys jerseys but won't pull the trigger until 2018 where he'll know once and for all if Dak is the real deal. Adam's love for the Texans is ethereal, and Dad hinted that he might be rooting for the Jaguars this season, but hasn't mentioned it since August, and he has yet to pick Victor Cruz off the waiver wire.
There's not much pain and vitriol I can stir with any of that.
I've tried to elicit some hate mail from Mike, but I have this sinking suspicion that he's rather above the fray. You can envision him in a smoking jacket, on a leather chair reading the Wall Street Journal, and possibly using a monogrammed handkerchief to clean the smudges off his monocle.
I really wanna go after Grandpa Pudding Pop and his undying love for the Patriots, but they keep winning and there's nothing more important in the life of a Patriot Fan than being able to say "I told you so."
They're those kinds of people. Every match is a grudge match.
I'm going up against him this week, while he and the family, no kidding, will be at the Patriot-Niner Game in Santa Clara tomorrow. The point projection looks pretty even, but there are a hell of a lot of game time decisions I gotta make and I'm feeling a little nervous about the pure magic of my UC Davis Tank Top.
Not quite as nervous as my brother who is going to be sitting next to rowdy Patriots fans at a Niner game, but nervous none-the-less.
Which brings me to the sorta point I was going to start with, which is where we are now at in the Season 2016.
See, in the first few weeks, you're just kinda hoping that all that research has paid off and your first few picks are doing what they're supposed to. It's kind of the evaluation portion of our fake little game. Those that are waiver wire savvy love this part.
In the mid-weeks, you're dealing with injuries, bye weeks, shoring up your weaknesses, crossing your fingers that you're strengths are what they seem to be, and the tough decisions really fall when you have to admit that your guy isn't pulling his weight (for me it was Marvin Jones and Jerrick McKinnon.) You're not thinking about playoffs.
But now, I'm afraid to say, you fall in one of three categories. Top of the charts with a full head of steam, middle of the pack with the taste of glory and defeat making a sort of beef lemon stew in your mouth, or down at the bottom where the best you can hope for is the pain and aguish on the faces of those you're drinking with.
And in each of those categories, you've got too many options. Your team is all healthy, the waiver wire is empty, no one's on a Bye Week, and you've got some decisions to make at the line of scrimmage.
One little mistake, one little QB controversy, one little zig where you probably shoulda zagged, and the ghost of Grandpa Pudding Pop is going to send you automated texts from now until the Super Bowl that says just one thing:
"I told you so."
Like, is it time for a Marvin Jones resurgence? Probably not, but who knows. Both Jennings and Prosise showered me with quite a lot of love last week, but which one is gonna be my best flex option this week? Jennings has got some pedigree as a late season bloomer, and Prosise can't seem to be covered anywhere on the field, but Seattle felt so comfortable with a healed Rawls that they threw away a perfectly good running back.
And the projections are not helping at all.
How many times have you screamed at the TV because ESPN says Fleener is not on the fantasy radar when he goes off for 60 yards and a TD, while Lance Kendricks lines up like a flaccid penis?
The LA Rams really need a metaphorical fluffer to help with half-time adjustments.
Hell . . . maybe they need a literal fluffer.
Keenum's adorable wife might not like that, but it's not like he's ever going to see the field again.
Wait . . . where was I?
Oh yeah . . . projections . . .
It's really hard to make projections, and it's even really harder not to buy into the professional expertise. There are people who are paid actual money to pretend to do that.
They are the people who constantly tell you that Gronk is a good buy in the first round. That Beckham is a better pick than David Johnson. That Brees in the 4th round is a bad idea when you can get Bortles in the 10th.
Predicting the future is no easy thing.
Like, if you were to predict what I'm going to be doing for Thanksgiving break, and you DIDN'T include shopping for fencing gear, teaching my son how to play Bad Religion songs on the bass guitar, and narrating a four hour audiobook using my best Johnny Cash impersonation . . . well . . . you'd be wrong.
You might predict I will drink beer, watch football, and eat turkey, but that's not where championships are won.
Take for instance my epic match with Grandpa Pudding Pop (BullyDOG)
The projection says it is my 202 to his 204. If I go with Prosise instead of Jennings, I drop a point, maybe no big deal, but still. And if I load up a Tennessee Line Backer and bench Lavonte David (who has been sadly killing me softly) I drop another three. A few little tweaks like that and the projections will be something more like 195 to 204, and though its really not that scary . . . it sure feels scary.
But you have to run the read-option. Walk up to the line of scrimmage like a man (or woman . . . whatever your ideal image of confidence is), look at what your opponent is set up to do and make a decision.
Some will be right . . . some will be wrong . . . and sometimes it rains.
All right, this has gone on a little long so we'll short note the usual segments:
THE BIG NEWS:
Christine Michael is as welcome in Seattle as Mike Pence was at a Broadway show.
(If you missed that reference, our VP Elect went to see Hamilton and was booed at. Apparently he's not popular with homosexuals, black people, women, non-christians, and white people who read things)
INJURIES AND BAD DECISIONS
Gronk will not be making the trip to Santa Clara. I will be deleting any Fantasy Football Ap that puts him in Top Ten next year.
FANTASYLAND:
Teddy's Stump Speech (8-2) 2nd place.
Trump's Twitter Game (7-3) 1st place.
Cheney's Shotgun (6-4) 5th place.
Odd couple of games last week. None of my teams did badly, in fact, none of them came under the projections, I just happened to go against teams that lit up the scoreboard. Except the Frankie/Steve love connection. Them I beat fair and square, just not enough to move the needle.
Teddy is only three points from the Top Spot. Every win counts, but it will take some serious suckage to push me out of the playoffs.
Cheney is holding on by a thread, but unlike the real Cheney, his heart is strong, and unlike Iraq, loaded with weapons of mass destruction.
Trump's an enigma. (Go figure) He packs the one-two punch with Brees and David Johnson, but everywhere else it's a coin toss.
The problem with him is that he's won too much. (Oh, the irony). Which means Waiver Wire priority has been super low (I don't get who I want no matter how fast I pull the trigger), there's a seven player bench, so the waiver wire was slim to begin with, and the league is set up in divisions, so even though he's top dog, he could statistically fall from grace in a single game.
Though spiritually, I'm very excited that the REAL Trump has been given his Twitter privileges back.
That shit is gold.
Or whatever substitute they use for gold on those casino bannisters.
For instance, after his running mate was booed, Trump tweeted that the cast of Hamilton should show more respect.
Yeah. Read that again.
So much rad right there.
Unless of course if you're gay, black, female, non-christian, or a white guy who knows the definition of irony.
All y'all are screwed. That's my projection.
(Imagine me saying that in my best Johnny Cash impersonation.)
Here's some other projections:
CRAZY STUPID PREDICTIONS WEEK 10
Russell Wilson gives me a 40 point game.
48.52 to be exact. The QB controversy continues.
Rashad Jennings proves his back half is his best half and I leave that without commenting further.
Not for three quarters, but then BAM, he may be a keeper.
David Johnson leaves the field 10 minutes into the 49er game, not because of injury, but because he's already ran for 207 yards and 3 touchdowns.
Chip and Company held him down pretty well to 101 all purpose yards and a single TD. Which . . . I don't know why that could possibly sound sad, but it does.
The Muscle Hamster returns to glory and I make chinchilla jokes with mouthfuls of spicy bird flesh.
Not a lot of room to run, but you don't need room on first and goal. 2 TDS, 33 yards. But if you're looking for a good time, Buffalo Wild Wings has great staff, decent hot wings, and the Elysium Space Dust was very tasty.
One of you catches yourself singing "Put on a Happy Face" in the shower . . . Mike.
We'll probably never know, unless someone cares to admit it . . . Frank.
Just remember though, if you are going to sing show-tunes, make sure you pay some respect to a man who thinks you can pray the gay away.
You can't BTW. You can't pray the gay away.
But it's finally nice seeing Trump come to the aid of the mentally disabled.
CRAZY STUPID PREDICTIONS WEEK 11
Cameron Meredith unleashes the Garbage Time Cutler Kraken.
The Packers drop Christine Michael because he looked so much taller on his Facebook Page.
Frank Gore makes me proud to be a believer.
Ken Dixon becomes the lead man in Baltimore.
Out of the three major lineup decisions I make this week (QB, RB, LB), I will be right on two of them and the third won't cost me the game.
All right . . . that's enough for me . . . may you finish Week 11 with hope, confidence, a capable fluffer, show tunes in your heart, and that you're too drunk for the existential crisis to sink in.
Goodnight, and good luck.
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