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With August just around the corner, it's time for me to decide if I'm going to play fantasy football this season. Yes, that is me on the left. I am tanned, ripped like a Greek God and hung like a killer whale.
Either way, I took a break from fantasy last year because I suck at it and I could not handle the brutal humping that my team would get every week. One of the many raging character flaws that I have is that I can't handle failure, which makes losing every week pretty tough to handle. (I also suffer from Tourettes and social anxiety, which makes me absolutely awesome to be around in public places)
Before the age of fantasy sports, I was a snobby douche that thought he knew it all when it came to sports. Like most of you, I started following sports at a young age as my family force fed it down my throat since the moment I could walk. I learned to read through my uncle's SI subscription, I spent every evening watching whatever sport there was on tv (this included women's ping pong and midget bunjee jumping), my entire video game collection from Gameboy through Playstation 2 consisted of sports and one sportsbook famously hired me because my knowledge of the games was through the roof.
So, I'd be good at fantasy sports right? Wrong. I am horrible. I once drafted Edgerrin James with the fourth overall pick. And that was not Colts era Edgerrin James, that was the sad, rotting corpse Arizona Cardinal Edgerrin James who was running behind a line that could not even block dead kittens.
I once drafted Troy Williamson, with hope that he'd put up some decent numbers. Drafting Troy Williamson should get you banned from the league. I once traded Chad Johnson in return for Warrick Dunn and Eric Moulds. Not Chad Ochocinco, but Chad Johnson, during the period when he could actually get open and catch a fucking football. The man set an NFL record a few weeks after I traded him away.
I once picked up Samkon Gado. No one should pick up Samkon Gado, not even at gun point. I am basically to fantasy sports what Peter King is to life. And what makes it all so much worse is how addicted and obsessed we become with fantasy sports.
We want to do well at it, we need to do well. It's like fantasy sports can prove that we are actually good at the one thing that we think we are good at. Work sucks, life sucks, the wife looks like this, you root for the Browns and suicide is only a few moments away at any given time. But fantasy sports is that escape. You're in control, you can pull the strings, you can be better than other people. That's what we all want out of life, to be better than other people.
You'd be a good GM right? You could draft better than Matt Millen right? You knew that Steve Slaton was going to be good since he was at West Virginia right? You knew that Mike Williams (the receiver and the tackle) was going to be a bust right? And that is basically when fantasy sports rapes you in the ass. You don't know shit. You think you know but eventually you know as much about these players as you do about heart surgery.
Hey, Jon Kitna is going against a poor pass defense and the Lions like to throw the ball! He's going to put up great numbers! No, no he's not. He's Jon Kitna and they are the Lions. Fuck you in the throat. Go hang with these guys...
Nothing is worse than stressing all week long about if you are going to play Maurice Jones-Drew against team A or Ronnie Brown against team B. You'll wake up Sunday morning drenched in sweat with a pounding headache and you'll make a gut decision. You'll pick MJD because of some flimsy statistic and you'll promptly watch as Brown has the bigger day. But rest assured, if you had picked Brown, he would have injured himself during pre-game warm-ups while MJD would go on to set team records in rushing. You are bound to lose...that's just the way it is.
The more I think about it, the bigger the chances are that I'll just join a random league and just wing it. I won't do research, I won't play the numbers and I won't stress about match-ups or any of that shit. I'll just set my rosters and stay out of the way. I won't care what happened the week before, I won't care what trade I am offered, I won't make any plays on the waiver wire and I won't care about the result.
I'm pretty sure that that will be more fun and it probably explains how Eli Manning has a Super Bowl ring. I'll also put very little effort in thinking of a team name and I'll chronicle my weekly progress here for you to read. And trust me, I'll end up doing better than all those times that I spent pulling my hair out at the sight of Brandon Jacobs taking goal-line carries and Td's away from Tiki Barber.
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