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See, I wouldn't give a shit this season. Look at me, I'm edgy and trendy. I'll play an entire season and not give a fuck. What, Carson Palmer lost both arms while arm wrestling a crocodile? Take it easy Alice, he's still my starting qb! No gay trading and waiver wire action for me!
I tend to be a pretty competitive person and I take my fantasy sports rather seriously. Mix in the fact that I suck like a white house intern during the Clinton administration, it makes for very depressing Sunday afternoons as I see my team get raped in the ribs. I sit, I stress, I destroy my brain while trying to decide if I'm going to start Donald Driver or Roy Williams and in the end it doesn't even matter. Whoever I pick will crap the bed. It's the law and you just have to respect it.
So then I had a brilliant idea. A lofty idea.
Why not just join a random league, select players at random and not give a shit about anything. Wouldn't that be much more fun than stressing and getting neck raped anyways? Well, we're going to find out.
I joined a random 10-team league that starts 1 qb, 2 wr, 2 rb, 1 te, 1 flex, 1 kicker, 1 defense and 1 defensive player. The bench goes 6 deep.
Either way, we drafted about 10 days ago and I acted like the cool kid in class. I showed up a minute before the start, wasn't prepared, didn't have a plan and when it was my turn, I just clicked whatever felt right. No strategy, no plan, no nothing. Basically like the Oakland Raiders do.
In the end, team Moneyline Loser looks like this...
QB: Aaron Rodgers, Eli Manning RB: DeAngelo Williams, Marion Barber, Felix Jones, Cedric Benson WR: Andre Johnson, Marques Qolston, Santonio Holmes TE: Chris Cooley, Anthony Fasano K: Jason Hanson Def: Baltimore, San Diego Def. player: Ed Reed, Adrian Wilson
Usually I would be walking around naked, telling everyone how awesome my team is and how I'm going to conquer a small European nation, but now I'm like Norm MacDonald. I'm just casually playing along. Whatever. I wear long sleeved shirts under short sleeved shirts under long sleeved shirts.
This is the definition of winging it folks. Marques Colston could grow trees for arms and I wouldn't even blink. Ah, Sundays will be fun again. Finally...
* image courtesy of I-Am-Bored
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