Greatest Game No One Knew Took Place

In a surprise clash of the Titans where one team was 1 game over .500, one of the greatest fantasy playoff battles this league has ever known went down. It was a first-round square off between the Magical Unicorns and JohnClaytonsPonytail. The soiree ended 95.98 to 94.72 with the Magical Unicorns getting the right to advance in the bracket. But this would be one of those proverbial "much closer than the score indicates" games.
It all started last Thursday night. JCPT's Pierre Garcon has an amazing night catching 2 TD passes and jumps his master out to a 18.15 lead. Somewhere between this point and Sunday the white hefty bag that sat atop the Metrodome, you know, the one that Minnesottans thought could support a Northern winter, collapes and drops too much snow for the Sunday slated game between the Vikings and Giants, forcing it to be moved to Monday night. This rare circumstance only ratchets up the drama that would happen the very next night to immeasurable levels.
Heading into Monday night, the score was Maigical horny horses 61.73- JCPT 64.03. Here is the kicker, along with JCPT's 2 point lead, he also has 4 players going against the Magical Horny Horses 2. Baltimore defense, Mario Manningham, Arian Foster, and Ryan Longwell vs. Andre Johnson and Ahmad Bradshaw. This lead and those remaining players makes this lead seem insurmountable. Not so fast my friend.
Cue batshit crazy happening number one. After 297 straight career starts, Favre quits leaving Ryan Longwell's kicking possibilities in the inept hands of knee-knocker Tavaris Jackson. T-Jack manages to take out their starting RB and sitting out a few plays limiting Longwell's production to an abysmal 3 points. Kicker Neutralized.
Also in this game is Ahmad Bradshaw representing the MU. In the second quarter Bradsaw has a run that appears to have him go into the endzone only to have the guys in Foot Locker uniforms rule him down just short of the goal line. Next play, Big Black Behemoth Brandon pounds in the remaining 1 yard for the score. This apparent touchdown stolen from Bradshaw's owner costs him 6 points. Surely he would need all the help he could get to overcome the adversity he was faced with heading into the Monday night double-header.
Now over to the game where the real drama unfolded. Simple breakdown of why this game was so important. One team has the Texans biggest offensive threat, the other has the Raven's defense. Ravens start out crushing the red clad Texans and jump out to a 21-0 lead. Shutout intact, Andre Johnson rendered meaningless. 42 seconds to go in the half and the lifeless Texans manage to somehow get Andre Johnson behind the Raven's homeless safety and he scores a 46 yard touchdown. A huge lift going into the break, double whammy, big points for Johnson, negative points for Ravens' D. Could the gap be closing?
Once again, cue the Corso catch phrase. After halftime, the Ravens receive the kickoff and after 29 missed tackles, the ball is matriculated 103 yards down the field for a special team touchdown. In your face Andre Johnson, your score has now been washed. The game continues to progress with no big happenings taking place. Keep in mind that JCPT has Arian Foster, the league's leading rusher, sad part is that after all the smoke clears he turns out to be a non-factor.
Fast forward to 21 seconds left in the game. MU is now down by 1 point and needing a miracle from his only remaining player, Andre Johnson. After a pass that may have been intended for Jacoby Jones is caught in the back of the endzone by Mr. Johnson, 6 points and change are added to the herd of mythical equine and 3 points are taken from JCPT after his defense goes from the 21-27 point range to the 28-34 point range. This one play resulted in a 9 point swing. For those of you who don't feel like doing the math. The Corns are up about 8 points now. Since I knew what was at stake and my team had secured a 1st round bye because I'm awesome, I immediately started contemplating what it would take for this lead to be erased. The only two options left were Arain Foster and the Baltimore defense. Texan's get the ball back around their own 10 in overtime. Play one, incomplete pass. Play 2, Shaub drops back and throws a pick 6. 7 points for the owner of the Raven's defense!!! Could it be, after letting the MU back into the game the most improbable of all comebacks had happened. Nope, wait for it, it wasn't enough. JCPT comes up 1point short with all the lead changes coming in the final minutes of the fantasy week.
Epic.

Keeping the Buzz Alive

In an attempt keep their fans' interest piqued in the winter months, a lot of Major League Baseball clubs have come up with a few ideas to keep their teams in the spotlight year round. From documentaries to game shows and everything in between, fans get a look a little deeper into the lives of their favorite players in a few of these interspective pieces. I personally hope this sort of thing catches on because I enjoy seeing the real side of the people that have become drone-like creatures when a news camera is in front of them. Below are a few of the ideas that some of the more progressive clubs are marketing currently.

White Sox: “Juan and Dunn”. A reality show based on a the comedy that ensues when a fat white man from Texas shares a studio apartment with a skinny black kid from Louisiana. Set against the back drop of racism in the South

Phillies: “Roys will be Roys”. A documentary chronicling the joint venture between Roy Halladay and Roy Oswalt into the cutthroat market of crystal serving containers, the name of their company, Ace Pitchers

Nationals: “A Desmond in the Rough”. After star pitcher Stephen Strasburg couldn’t stay healthy long enough for a simple magazine article to be written about him, hot newcomer Ian Desmond was chosen as the title character in this piece. Catch-phrase from the error prone shortstop, “I play defense with my bat”

Rangers: “Line or Liquid”. Contestants are forced to choose between 2 answers, Line or Liquid, in this fun for all ages game show. In each round contestants are provided with everyday household items and they have to decide if it would be better to inject or snort that item. They write their answer on a tablet to see if they can match the two-man panel of experts consisting of Ron Washington and Josh Hamilton. Winner gets free fore-arm flame tattoos and a Kornheiser afro-puff.

Athletics: “Braden does Dallas: Dirty Sheets edition”. Sexcapade in which pitchers Dallas Braden and staff veteran Ben Sheets travel to the city of Dallas, Texas where the two of them chronicle their efforts to see who can shred the most trim in the offseason. Content not suitable for all viewers.

It just aint right

Enough of this Nicorette bullshit, I want a real smoke! -Any random A-hole that has tried to fill the void of getting off of the cigarettes

In this case, for me atleast, the Nicorette in that great allusion that I made above is fantasy fooseball and the sweet sweet tar that my lungs so badly need is that savory sensation produced by fantasy baseball. I swear I check the baseball message board as often as I do the football bored (see what I did there) just to remember the good ol' days. Maybe it's the new layout of the crappy football league board, maybe its the fact that we are one week away from playoff time and I've made a whopping 8 moves this year (I made 2 free agent moves the morning after our baseball draft, and boy did Milton Bradley make me feel smart), but I'm really not that interested. Tonight I sat down to watch a god awful Monday night game and after trying to figure out if Mike Singletary wears that cross because he is a devout Christian or if he is deathly afraid of a vampire attack, yes the game was that exciting (I decided I use a lot of parentheses so please appreciate that awesome comma separation I just threw at you and then explained inside these magical word hammocks that I love so much)-Now scan back to see how this sentence started....I decided it was a good time to type up a little motivational piece for my team and their great start. Here's the problem, I have no connection to my team. I actually had to look at my team to see if there was any sort of trend I could pick up on. It actually made me feel a little bit lonesome for....gulp...Chone Figgins. I remember reading an article where my friend first, employee second, was reunited with his old hitting coach when the Mariners played a weekend set at Anaheim. This was it! This was how Mr. Duct Tape (I'm trying this name out for him because he can do anything ***extremely scared handing out nicknames because I feel that the simple fact that I've been exposed to the name BamBam Braun for 3 years may have completely distorted my judgement for nicknames)would turn it around. Spoiler alert, he didnt, I kept him anyway and anxiously checked his box scores everyday with the same hope then sadness I have everytime Cam Newton lays on the ground that extra half second then hops up only to show off those giant white things he calls his teefs. My football team is named after Visanthe Shiancoe's gigantor love log, and the owner of that tram isn't even on my team. What the hell? I should be ashamed, truth is, gold jacket green jacket.

All I can say is, get here spring, I'm ready to start making extremely involved spreadsheets and reading everything I can, only to get shit-housed and drafting players that have cool names that can make great team names (Hoping for a rare double namer next year--Hawpe on Pap--Dr. Seuss reference, bit of a reach, I know, but it won't be the only one I make next draft-I'm talking to you Madison Square Bumgarner)

A Rose By Any Other Name....

With only 1 week remaining in "The Backstop Boys Fantasy Baseball League", I felt it was a time to do a small re-cap of the first season under the new league name, but also a solid continuation of the magic we had in the Tiger Bait Fantasy Baseball League.
First off, let me just say that it should be a constitutional mandate that every draft day/season kick-off should be held at a league member's house and that all other member's should have an uber valid excuse to not be there. I vote for some sort of penalty for not coming, i.e., league gets to name your team, you have to draft Aramis Ramirez before the 12th, etc. Simply by working my draft in person and protecting my entire lower half from jellyfish stings, I was able to clear my mind and assemble a team that jumped from the basement to the playoff pedestal. That's the Power of Urine (lesser known Huey Lewis diddy). Personal success stories aside, let's look at the jack offs that failed to come. T&B, "too far" he says, not as far as your fall from grace. Frank the Tank, "government runs my life", well maybe they can bail out your pour excuse for a team. Random Cardinal fan in our league, "My gam gam came over for my birthday", hope you enjoyed your time in the league a-hole. I believe my point has been made.
Second off, a huge change in the landscape this year. Pucketteer chieftain steps down as commish to be replaced by a Co-Commish tandem that is showing tremendous upside. Although only one person gets to wear the commissioner sash (should also be added to draft day festivities) he has partnered up with a real force behind the scenes. One meticulous, by the book, letter of the law type person. The other an off the cuff rant-ard that bitches about everything from Cy Young decision making to his favorite team losing a game just so that Rayburn fella doesnt get another AB, all peppered with expletives galore. I wish Paula would have gone with the names Oscar and Felix.
Third off, I want to reiterate how much I hate Yahoo! Fantasy Baseball App for totally fucking me with a herpes infested sandpaper condom. Ofcourse my team catches on fire for a playoff run but my affinity for drinking beer and tailgating and my confidence in today's technology lead only to me being ousted from bonus baseball. To all my players, I'm sorry. You did your part and I failed to do mine. Chone Figgins, I will never ever name my team after you again, but thanks for doubling your season average and hitting a rotund .250 in the postseason for me. Truly a sign the stars aligned when even you got in on the act.
ABOUT THE PHOTO: The above photo was taken to usher in the era of our fantasy league. A new millenium if you will. Taken against the backdrop of the famed boy band that is somewhat of a namesake, 5 key league members were chosen. In true boy band fashion, the new commish steps up to the forefront with a certan pzazz (his actual hair style, not airbrushed). Old commish is pushed aside, possibly looking to the past remembering when he used to be relevant, possibly looking to the future praying that things get better. Tankin Frank creepily occupying the back because thats what his team did all year (cue the Max Weinberg rim shot........now). To the left with a stare of confidence is the Bream Boss. A shroud of arrogance surrounds him leading into this championship match-up after womping through the regular season. But the Bream Boss's stare is no match for the Tourette's Team captain. Pulling on his extensive knowledge on how Jason avoided the stone-cold stare of Medusa, his downward stare yet forward posture shows he is stanced for battle but is not going to be shaken by the soul piercing pupils.

The End of an Era: 2005-2010

Over the last 5 years the former Tiger Bait Fantasy Baseball League, current Backstop Boys Fantasy Baseball League, was ruled by one man. His political views fall somewhere left of Mussolini and right of Atilla the Hun. He ushered in many changes during his reign as a tyrant. The introduction of divisions, inception of the franchise tag, adoption of the Puckett Buckett, and the gracious hosting of Draft Day 2010. This one man is none other than J. Charles Anderson, Jr.
Linked to countless scandals including some with his players, Anderson has chugged along as a force behind the scenes. Who can forget him offering up Pronk Bars only to have Travis Hafner have the first of his turdy seasons. $30 well worth it. Probably the only person in all the world that owns a Grienke and Braun jersey and definitely the only person in all the world that calls Ryan Braun "Bam Bam".
There is no doubt that the last 5 years have taken a heavy toll on the youthful exuberance as evidenced by the above photos. The jovial permanent pajama wearing cat enthusiast we all loved back in '05 is now a worn down slender Tony Siragusa that we all know and communicate with. The same person that years ago could make spreadsheets for 36 hours straight on a simple bottle of Aderral and a pack of Marlboro Lights now can barely manage to set his team daily. I personally saw the beginning of the end when the once proud and arrogant owner had the guile to ask me to co-manage a team with him this past offseason, (The Puckett Figs). What was happening, could it be? Oh how the mighty have fallen. Much like many great artists/entertainers of their respective times, they did too much too fast and their stars burned out long before their time. Maybe Anderson just couldnt handle being dethroned as the tour de force in the league that is now occupied by the Bream Team. Lets hope he manages to pull a Chevy Chase-esque comeback many years from now when his "Community" oppurtunity comes knocking. You will be relevant one day again "Big Cat", do as Jimmy V says, not as he does. I do and forever will love you. May God rest your soul.

A Real Case of Who Dunnit?

In what was originally construed as an accident, a few new pieces of evidence recently brought to light may suggest otherwise. On May 29th in Anaheim, California Angels slugger Kendry Morales hit a game winning grand-slam. A feat that provided massive amounts of jubilation amongst his team and their fans, albeit short lived. Upon his arrival at home plate, he placed his foot on the dish, only to have it slip off causing an awkward fall resulting in a broken leg which will also land him awkwardly on the disabled list. At first glance most people wrote it off as dumb luck, a mere continuation of the snake venom delivered to them every year in the playoffs if you will. But recently, Anaheim police chief Reinhold Goswick has alerted the media of 3 clues leading to 3 suspects in the case.
Exhibit A in the case was a banana peel found in the left handed batters box after the subdued dog pilers helped Morales off the field. This piece of Evidence points to an Italian plumber with suspected mob ties who plumbs and races as a laundering front. The plumber, simply known as Mario, has a long history of drug use, mostly hallucinogenic mushrooms, and an even longer history of other charged crimes which include: destruction to property (mostly bricks), arson, assault and battery of military officers including several troopas, excessive speeding, etc. Mario could not be reached for comment as he is strongly protected by his number 2 man known as Luigi, a toad, a donkey, a lizard thing with a spikey turtle shell and all of his footmen constantly parade around in an extremely intimidating go kart gang.
Exhibit B brought to light consisted of a pair of chopsticks and a batman-like tool belt. These clues were dusted and brought authorities to one, Richard "Data" Wang. Wang is considered somewhat of a Robin Hood figure in local communities, as he has a history of wrong doing for the good of the common man. In the past he was part of a misfit gang that single handedly nabbed an alarmingly bumbling group of criminals and stole, ahem, found, a large group of treasure and relics that were used to prevent an evil gang of entrepreneurs from bettering a community, but in the meantime, saving a crappy house with a gaudy contraption for opening the front gate. Most locals didn't care, but the story was a national phenomenom for quite some time.
Exhibit C in this caper is an empty bottle of baby oil that was found in the stadium with the finger prints of an Austin, Texas inhabitant. As of now the police are only scratching the surface of this suspect and are unwilling to release his name. All that has leaked out is the fact that the suspect has a few blips on his background check which include a minor examination thieving incident, an attempted BB gun assassination which resulted in a punk rock smurf falling off a roof, and tricking people to slip in baby oil. Apparently, suspect C's entourage finds people slipping among the funniest things in all the world. Video tapes of such events were also confiscated.
As of now there is still a lot of work to be done, but Chief Goswick is confident that the guilty party will be brought to light. Until then, I blame Brett Butler.

Trading Block or Chopping Block

In a still young season, many teams are finding themselves in unfamiliar places and are undoubtedly looking for answers. Well may I serve up a little observation that may lead to a solution. The last 4 teams to place specific players on the chop....ahem, trading block are as follows: Twinks and Bears, Pucketteers, Re-Tods, and Frank the Tank. Their current places are as follows: 7,8,9, and 10. Gross, I know.
One could only imagine the pressures an employee feels when he finds out that his services are no longer appreciated by the bossman. Imagine being told in the early morning meeting that you would be laid off at the end of the day, how hard would you work? I'm not sure what I'd do, but I would never have to buy staplers or those awesome rubber page turners again. And I'm not talking about mailroom workers being told they are disposable, some of these players are perennial all-stars. Some of which include: Matt Holliday, Jake Peavy, John Lackey, Alfonso Soriano, hot new comer Kelly Johnson, and many others. Some of the convicted are not seasoned vets like Lackey or Soriano. One of the victims with his neck stretched across the stump is rookie phenom Gordon Beckham. Beckham refused comment for this story as he finds it to painful to acknoqledge. There are reports from the Pucketeers clubhouse that he hasn't shaved for days and that he was seen taping up razor blades to swallow. Why was he taping them you ask, because the poor basterd felt he didn't even deserve the dignity of a totally successful suicide. There is no doubt that this public display of disinterest may be contributing to his earthworm testicle low batting average. "He was so excited to be drafted by a team that comes with as much clout as The Pucketteers," said Gordon's father, Baxter. "As soon as he realized his name was Gordon at the age of 4 he went into a 5 year funk, but as depressed as he was then, we atleast found him with undiluted bleach and a funnel, atleast then he felt worthy of a real suicide."
Fortunately, not everyone is as fragile as the young Beckham. Veteran Jorge Posada of the Frank the Tank army is not happy with the decision, but he gets it. "I swear I thought this guy had a man-crush, or even a straight up crush, on me and then I see this splattered on the league message board." "I mean c'mon, I've atleast earned some respect after all the years I've given to this club." Upon completion of the interview, I tried to have the rusty right shouldered catcher crack a smile. I gave him the obligatory "Hip Hip" and eagerly awaited the response. Blamo, middle-finger to the face. No way a catcher with complete job security does that, no way.
There are many players having sub-par seasons thus far, but its hard to ignore the facts facing these annual power-houses. These are humans we are dealing with. Act accordingly.

Middle-School Fad Hits Fantasy Locker Room

It is all too often said that America's athletes are role models for America's youth, but in one special case in New Orleans, Louisiana, America's youth have been copied by some of America's athletes. A past time across the country's school yards that has been around for years has recently swept through the locker room of one of the Backstop Boys New Orleans affiliates. The past time I am referring to is a practice that many national media publications are calling "The Choking Game" and the locker room I am referring to is that of the aptly named Re-Tods. In this "game" a person either chokes himself or has a friend choke him until he loses consciousness. The person being choked then wakes up in a breif state of euphoria that some compare to being high. It is a free high that will never test positive in baseball's expansive drug testing. It is this fact that makes it almost inevitable to catch on across the league.
Only 2 weeks into the season, the Re-Tods were essentially the walking wounded with numerous tennants on the Disabled List. The Re-Tods General Manager doubted that he could have this many baseball related injuries this early in the season and soon began an internal investigation. There was one person in his locker room he knew he could count on to tattle if there was any foul play amongst the athletes. It took only an offer of +5 mana and a character attack bonus of +3 and Hunter Pence ratted out all the guilty parties. "I saw Mr. Rollins place his hands around Ian's neck untill he went night night, I told them it was wrong, but they didn't stop," said the "Avatar" fan as he was applying blue face paint in a mirror. "Ian fell down and his foot twisted under him, I knew it was a big owie, but he didn't cry." "Shut-up you little bitch!" said veteran Cliff Lee as he overheard Pence giving this interview. Pence stated that Lee was the ring leader of "The Chokers", the name the group addicted to asphyxiation has given themselves. Pence later told me that Lee himself was a victim of a pass out when he fell down awkwardly and strained his abdomen. As of now the only two confirmed choke related injuries are Lee and Kinsler, but suspected "Chokers" also on the DL include: the aforementioned Jimmy Rollins and Astro veteran Lance Berkman, bringing the alarming total to 4. One can only suspect that this epidemic is much more widely spread, not only in this particular locker room, but throughout the entire BBFBL. "How do you test for something like this?" said another BBFBL GM that requested he remain anonymous. It has been reported by numerous media outlets that some people even masturbate while being choked to heighten the experience of ejaculating. When I asked Pence if he had any information on this subject, he giggled for minutes before he was able to reply. "I'm only into one of those things, teehee, but I'm not telling which." "Oh shit yeah, choking while choking is badass!" said Re-Tod'er Magglio Ordonez as he placed astonishing amounts of jheri curl juice in his locker, way more than one could ever imagine he could use on just his hair in one season.
Is this a case of art imitating life or life imitating art? Whatever the case, why can't America's youth just go back to shooting up with HGH. Atleast that produced a superior product on the field. Either that or have cameras placed in locker rooms because people passing out is funny shit.

Texas Catcher has Giant Honor Bestowed

In what would turn out to be a bitter sweet day, Texas Rangers catcher Jarrod Saltalamacchia received a bit of good news following the bad bit he received upon hearing that he made it to the disabled list. "I was sitting on the trainer's table when my cell phone rang, it was my agent" said the beat up backstop. "To have an award named after me at such a young age is quite the honor." The award the journeyman catcher is referring to is the "Salty", an award given out in the Backstop Boys Fantasy Baseball League. In what turned out to be a draft day memory that shall live forever in infamy, Saltalamacchia was drafted by Nacho Daddy in the first 5 rounds, all despite the fact that he was the signal caller for the Rangers AAA affiliate. "I'm pretty pumped, I heard some retard (beefeater 2.0) drafted Eric Byrnes in the 3rd that year and he tore both of his hamstrings." The award is the brain-child of a brilliant man who blames his early hair loss on the fact that the only realization his head could make based upon the wisdom it houses is that any man with such cranial capacity must be infinitely old and should resemble such. (The award creator was contacted but refused comment due to being absolutely humble when dealing with his wonderful idea.) Each year, a "Salty" will be voted on by the members of the league and a plaque/trophy which will be unveiled later will be given to the lucky GM who selected the newly annointed. The purpose of the award is to find the highest/most disappointing pick of a draft. Please vote for 2009's "Salty" award winner to the right.

Bud Light Lime Sales Soar in South Louisiana

A weekend recap for those who couldn't make it and those like me that were there but some things are still a little blurry. Friday night I arrive at the commish's house and he immediately shows me an ice chest of beer with about 3 cases of beer in it and asks me if I think it will be enough for the weekend. Earlier on in the week he told me he split about 26 cases of beer with someone and that was what we'd be drinking for the weekend. So ofcourse, I figured the quantity was fine, but the absurd amounts of Bud Light Lime in the cooler was ridiculous. He then tries to sell me on the scurvy preventer by saying it tastes like Froot Loops. Yeah, thats what I want beer to taste like. We arrive at the fine facilities of Copper Mill Golf Course where the commish gives us all a reminder that this is his place of employment and that there is a big tourney going on and we need to remember our manners. Five minutes later, as we are all standing around admiring the "2010 Fantasy Convention (you guys are cool)" welcome sign, the commish asks Christian to show his tennis ball-sized testicle to his boss. Remember manners, check.
After divvying up the beer among the 7 drinkers and watching the Lime get avoided like the plague, a round of golf kicked off. After what started as a competitive round, ended up with no more beer and a failed covert piss on 18 fairway resulting in urine all over yours truly. It was this moment that defined my day. The golf round ended and the moment I have been losing sleep over for weeks commenced. It started off with Liv staying true to form and getting Mr. Wright. Things pretty much went as scheduled untill 1st bomb drop of the draft went off. If you had Ben Zobrist in your office pool as first completely unexpected selection, congrats. My first 3 rounds pretty much went as I rehearsed, but by round 6, beer kicked in and I drafted Herniated Roberts. Second base. Baltimore Orioles. Although I did manage to redeem myself in Round 8 by allowing myself the option to change my team name to "kickem in denards". My personal highlight of the draft was when Jon Lester was taken and the commish kicked a folding chair only to crumple and hit the ground like a wet rag, then was beaten with a ice chest lid a la WWE. Round 10 a minor miracle happened and something that I think should be added to the Constitution occurred. Fantasy magic touched us all when the Keith Law fournicater selected Ian "Shotgun" Stewart. A wonderful follow-up to the shotgun was made in the 12th when Andrew Bailey was drafted, then Soria....could it be... then Heath Bell......do I smell.....Francisco Rodriguez.... a closer run!!! New owners of Heath Bell and Soria celebrate by humping in front of the draft board with what I think should be our league logo, suck it Jerry West. Way to go SFDF for climaxing the run with K-Rod without even being present to feel the suspense.
6 hours into the draft and we are reaching the rounds of the early teens, I become antsy and start rushing everyone along (apologies to all those present and all those I called to rush). Mr. Brad Hawpe joins the ranks with Ian Stewart and the rest is a blur. Apparently Ben Sheets was named Mr. Irrelevant and a new league name was born (I nominate Joey Fatone as the name of our MVP trophy). Post draft celebrations kicked off with some frisbee game and a trip to the appropriately named "Happy's". I offer to buy the birthday boy (the relevant one) a shot as the soothsayer promises regurge. One car bomb later, our good ol' friend Papa John's makes a second appearance. A few bar shenanigans and a taxi ride with the uber-talkative Mike (sarcasm font necessary for the preceeding) and we called it a day around 4. The next day as I prayed for an I.V. drip on my cross country journey, I could only hope that the previous day is an inkling of the festivities to come this season.

Wright Steals a Page from Hollywood

After an injury plagued season in 2009 and a rough spring, David Wright received a great piece of news this morning and a great piece of ass this afternoon. In a fantasy league yet to be named, Wright got word that he is all but assured to be selected 1st overall in the upcoming draft. "I was a little worried that people would doubt my abilities, but I have a lot of faith that my projections are going to live up to all the hype," said a confident albeit exhausted Wright. The New York Mets 3rd sacker immediately went out to cruise the evening scene in Florida since there is really no significant nightlife being that most of the residents in the state go to bed around 5:30 pm.
Wright soon saddled up to the bar and ordered himself and his entourage a round of strawberry daiquiris and demanded that each be served with a "crazy straw". A bystander overheard the bout of cockiness and took exception. Following his strawberry daiquiri apparrently Wright wasn't done, he then proceeded to knock down a white russian. The bystander that happened to over hear the outlandish demand just so happened to be the new Oakland Athletic, Kevin Kouzmanoff. In an attempt to bring the newly ordained "1st overall" back to earth, or maybe a good ol' fashioned attempt to pull a robbery on the females swooning over Wright, Kouzmanoff mentioned to the young ladies that they "should not cream your panties just yet". "I am well aware of the announcement, and it turns out that the league already has 30 keepers, so you are hoping to fuck the 31st pick overall," said the cock-blocking Russian. "Better than hoping to fuck a Jake Fox platoon partner, and I do mean partner," quipped a fist clenching Wright as he seemed to have life being breathed into his bowed chest. Before another word could be said, Wright delivered a left and communism was again defeated a la Balboa vs. Drago. "Frenchy Francouer and I just watched Bull Durham, and the scene where a drunk Costner gives Tim Robbins the lesson in the bar to always punch with your non-throwing hand was still fresh on my brain," said the now handsy Wright as he groped his prize. I know it is early in the year, but there seems to be a lot of fight in young David Wright.

Texas Dealership has Odd Injuries

-Special to the AP from Paul Macintosh of San Antonio, TX- In what has to be one of the oddest epidemics to ever sweep through any office place, Colton Lane Ford dealership of San Antonio is minus upwards of 7 employees due to a condition known as Erupted Reticulum of Intestinal Cutaneous, or more commonly known as "ERIC". Persons affected by this extremely painful condition suffer a rupture of the side wall in there intestines due to any number of activities, but in this particular case, laughter. Apparently, on March 3rd, a middle-aged Army nurse who would not release his name for this story walked into Colton Lane Ford with the thoughts of making a deal for a new vehicle. The confident nurse strolls into the dealership and immediately asks if the dealership accepts trades for new vehicles. Upon finding out that the dealership did in fact accept trades, the annonymous nurse pulls up a chair and boldly proposed an offer to Ryan Tugwell, the unfortunate salesman that was stuck working with the hopeful wheeler dealer. For a 2009 Ford Escape, the nurse offered his banged up '96 civic he referred to as "Cindy", a ball of twine he has collected since he was 19, and then had the gile to ask the salesman if he could also get first right of refusal for the 3rd car received in the dealership's next shipment. While trying to remain professional, young Mr. Tugwell asked to be excused from the make-shift negotiation and walked back to the employee breakroom where he repeated the nurse's offer to his fellow employees. It was at this point that the breakroom exploded into laughter causing 7 employees to come down with the aforementioned "ERIC". "I am just a young man trying to work my way through college and then this happens," said a wincing Tugwell through the beeps and drips of the hopital apparatuses that coursed through his veins. It is unknown at this time if the nurse is being investigated for 2nd degree assault, but one can only assume some recourse will be pursued being that his offer was so ludicrous. As I sat in his hospital room for this story, Mr. Tugwell managed to crack a meager smile and say, "I guess the only positive here is that last week I signed up for the Army Reserves and now all of my medical expenses are covered under their care." Just then a cotton-topped nurse pokes his head in the door to deliver the agonizing patient his lunch. "I'll offer you a gum wrapper and a crouton for this meatloaf and mashed potato platter," said the orderly. Young Tugwell shrieked and then this reporter had to make a break for the door clutching his gut, praying that he is able to avoid the dredded pain that Tugwell and his co-workers are currently experiencing, "ERIC".

Young Rookie Shows Business Smarts

In what may be the wave of the future, young rookie phenom, Steven Strasburg, has signed an endorsement deal based on his fantasy baseball stock. With the help of super agent Scott Boras, Strasburg inked a deal over the weekend with North American toothbrush giant, Oral-B. Franklin McCourt, Oral-B vice president of advertising, said that the company is planning on re-introducing one of their most famous toothbrush models, "the Reach", to the American public. "Steven just seemed to be the perfect fit for us due to the fact that I know in almost every fantasy baseball league out there, some moron will reach for the unproven rookie about 8 rounds too early, and you know who you are out there." The terms of the deal remain undisclosed, but since Scott Boras was involved, one can only assume it was very client friendly. Boras has managed to put even more of a spotlight onto what teammates are referring to as "Jesus". Without even throwing a pitch this season, young Strasburg has the weight of a city and his team on his shoulders. Now if only Adam Dunn would sign a deal with Jenny Craig.

Brewers Camp A Stir!!

Ryan Braun, along with many other members of the Brewers, showed up to spring training this week in Arizona. But most of the buzz surrounding the perennial all-star wasn't regarding his talents on the field, but rather the happiness he's found outside the lines. Ryan Braun has been spotted out on the town with an anonymous male suitor who can only be described as "tall and handsy". Numerous pictures of the mystery man and Braun have been snapped, including this one attained from TMZ.com. When asked about his new found beau, Braun paused momentarily, then couldn't help but grin from ear to ear as his unibrow came to resemble a small child's rendition of a seagull in flight. "I met him on Eharmony.com," says a befuddled Braun. "His profile said he was looking for an athletic Hebrew, and I knew there were not too many of us out here, so I contacted him immediately," gushed the Brewers outfielder. After talking to a few of the other Brewers who have shown up to begin preparations for the upcoming season, I heard only positive reviews.
I caught up with the hefty first sacker for the Brew Crew, Prince Fielder, and he offered this piece of advice for the newly infatuated Braun, "I hope his new relationship doesn't affect the chemistry the two of us share during our homo-erotic punch-punch-duck celebration, but whatever makes him happy." As I was walking through the facilites, I ran into an equipment manager who was overcome with laughter. I followed him to what looked to be the source of the attention stealer in the clubhouse and caught the tail end of a story. "Tell us what you heard Annual Injury" said a giddy Corey Hart to Rickie Weeks as 8 to 10 members of the Brewers organization huddled around the perputual "breakout year" second baseman. "I missed most of dey conversation yo, but I's pretty sure I heard da dude on da other end of dat phone call Braun "Bam Bam"". Just then, veteran Doug Davis walks by and says "Just when I thought nothing was gayer than two dudes in love, I hear their pet names." At that exact moment, as the make-shift audience exploded into laughter, this lucky reporter saw a team come together.
Now I'm not usually one for predictions, but based on the positive attitude coming from the left fielder, one can only assume it's going to be contagious throughout the team. Look for big things from the Brewers this year, and I'm not talking about Prince Fielder's grocery bill.

Hope Springs Eternal

First off, after last fall when I was debating quitting this fantasy baseball thing all together, then briefly considering a co-manager role with Charles (which have undoubtedly relegated me to a "poster-only role" while Charles did whatever he wanted), this is the most excited about a season that I can remember being. Not because I am confident that I will build a juggernaut, but because I think we have change we can believe in.
I am really excited about the "3 year and done" rule. I think this will open up a huge barrage of blockbuster deals throughout the season. Mimmicking real life trade relations when clubs trade expiring contracts knowing that if they trade the star, they are sure to get something in return rather than just lose them in off-season free agency with nothing to show for it. Also, knowing that certain players will be available to me next year may well be just what I need to get me through what may be another cellar dwelling year. I am just giddy with joy when the day comes that Frank the Tank has to part with his man-crush (my hybrid nemesis), perennial media love toy Derek Jeter.
Another dimension added to our ever increasing dorkiness, is the franchise tag. A brain-child of one of the greatest minds of our time, I believe this option will add a new level of thinking to the already excruciating process of designating keepers. People are going to drool over finding a worthy franchise tag like NFL teams cream themselves over attaining a franchise QB. Although it may not happen this year, I know that soon all 10 teams in the league will have a very solid franchise player, which will allow for a little more parity, all while not completely squashing the chances of a dynasty.
Finally, the one thing that I believe should have almost everyone in the league confident, the fact that last year the 5th and 6th place teams met in the finals with the 6th place team ultimately earning its place on the grail we battle for every spring, the hallowed Puckett Bucket. Although teams may not be full of powerhouses, with a few breaks here and there, any team can be 6th place quality, then get hot in the playoffs.
We are still months away from opening day, but slowly and steadily this hobby that I will be cursing in September, seems to be occupying my thoughts more and more. Happy pondering a-holes, may your draft preparations lead you all astray.

Eauxver Leauxd

Time for a little rant. Now I'm just as big of a Saints fan as the next guy, but the "eaux" thing has gone to an alarming level. I get it, its part of the Cajun heritage, but c'mon cher, this has gotten a bit ridiculous. I can accept geaux, but I think the line should stop there. I died a little each week that the Saints would win and I'd have to read 9,10,11 - eaux as facebook statuses. Wear does it say that in order to get your official ticket to hop on the bandwagon you must abuse a particular common ending in Cajun French. No more "Black and Geauxld", "Heauxly Meauxly", "Super Beauxl". Stick with the awesome outfits that have nothing to do with the Saints whatsoever. Can I get some more whistle man, clowns painted in black and gold, black and gold storm troopers, maybe even a little bit of those guys that dress up as gladiators. Saints fans already have one cheesy phrase associated with the team, and as a member of Who Dat nation, I just want to put it on record that I'm cool with that being the only one.

For a little diversity a musical post....that has no audio

A glimpse of Rock Gods? (get it, a statue of a god) Decide for yourself.


After a recent trip to the musical hub of southeast East Baton Rouge Parish, I experienced a musical euphoria simply dubbed, The Last Chalaron. Below is my brief yet thorough description of each piston that drives this V-6.


Christian Crawford- Simply put, worth the price of admission alone. If there were one person to be counted on to bring 110% intensity to the stage every night, Crawford is your man. He is a cocoon of talent simply waiting for the spotlight to shine upon him to release the beautiful gifts he veils inside. For those of you who simply can not be bought off with supreme artistry and majesty, the one thing that can top the treat your eyes are in for is the delight that will be delivered upon your ears. His highly honed pipes would make the likes of Pan himself jealous. Prepare to laugh, to cry, feel extreme warmth, and at times fear. You are in for a harmonic journey that is worthy of note for generations to come.
Ross Loftin- Just one take of this guy and the phrase “intestinal fortitude” will overcome your thoughts in a matter of seconds. Loftin is what a scholar would refer to as the proverbial man’s man. The boldness he uses to attack and control his elegant and graceful tool of the trade is a conundrum in itself. With each lick he aggressively caresses his guitar with, he seems to be making personal connections with anyone and everyone in earshot making it impossible for anyone to leave without feeling that they have been ravaged and altered for life. Having the fortunate experience myself to simply sit in on a personal jam session, I left the room with a disturbing yet peaceful grip on reality. Blues seemed bluer, reds were redder, and at the same time, the absence of light seemed exponentially more evil. As you will see for yourself after only a short time in his presence, Mr. Loftin sharpens all ends of the spectrum and everything in between. An experience which no human on this Earth should deprive themselves of.
Matt Dawson- Dawson is a widely revered intellect amongst the community of the extremely talented. His witty rhetoric is ever present in every song that the band has ever decided to deliver upon the chosen few who have had the incomparable experience of letting this man’s audible thoughts wash over their bodies. Dawson has the unique ability of demanding attention from the depths of shadows, for this reason among others, I’ve heard many reference him as a silent and stealthy assassin. A pillar of constant focus and demand of his craft, the common man can only hope to grasp the surface of the many layers that are so intricately woven into the bass lines that he supplies as the foundation for every musical note that is produced by the whole. If ever I were forced to compare the being that is Matthew Dawson to a historical landmark, it would most undoubtedly be the Parthenon atop the Acropolis that can be found in Athens. He is as sound and solid as the magnificent columns that frame the structure and he also is one of the few mortals that can claim the notoriety of sharing the same magnitude of overwhelming thoughts inside their walls.
Paul Buller- Or, as I prefer to think of him, El Matador. The name should make complete sense to anyone that has the intellectual capacity to muster up a decent pile of drool, and if you think it has something to do with his last name, you need to check on your salivary glands my friend. Buller is able to take something as powerful and destructive as the music that bellows from his guitar and make it follow his every command to create something as beautiful and flowing as an early morning dew drop making its way to the fresh soil that pillows beneath. He is able to take his audience through breath taking experiences, coaxing them into believing that he will lose control of this powerful force at any minute, only to see him string together near death sounds that come together like a wonderfully choreographed ballet. If you are lucky enough to witness the phenomenon that sometimes occurs when Buller decides to add to the vocals, sometimes even leading them, consider it the coup de gras, but trust that you have been done in by one of the best.
Chad Townsend- Known in many circles as the GQ timekeeper, Townsend is a myriad of talents. The great Gene Siskel is once quoted as saying when asked to describe the image that Townsend displays on some of the quicker paced songs that the band delivers “Chadwick appears to resemble an octopus falling out of a tree, there are limbs everywhere.” Siskel then followed that quote with “pun intended”. That Gene Siskel was a cheeky bastard, but I digress. Townsend has the claim of fame for being the iconic idea behind the idea for Rolex. After only a short interview, the fine gentlemen at Rolex soon realized that Townsend is the epitome of a classy time piece and decided they should never surrender in the pursuit of excellence in time keeping. The previous is only one of the many realizations that he has spawned over the course of his enlightening musical career. Often being accused of having extra appendages, it is truly a testament to the musical Gods that such a rhythmic sound can be produced by a man granted only the standard number of extremities. Despite several requests, the band has constantly rejected my idea of a revolving stage, for it is my belief that every band member deserves his share of time in the forefront of the viewers eye, this man in particular commands it. He often has a plethora of eyes seeking him amidst the pageantry that he resides behind. Deservedly so, deservedly so.


Todd Williams-He is what the author refers to as "Calm Chaos". Always assuming the power stance with his wiry frame, his digits dance along his keyboard like a Russian ballerina wearing cottenelle shoes tip-toeing on clouds of marshmallows. Like a fine merlot, Williams is enjoyed by all that experience him, but only truly appreciated by those with the most refined pallette. A wonderful addition to the band, he takes the phenomenon to a whole new level. If the band were Super Mario, Williams would without a doubt be Mario's ability to fly with the racoon suit. The band would be great without him, but I wouldn't want to even think about it. I like to think of him as the Samson of electronic ivories. If I am correct and his power resides in his lustrous locks, consider wearing a kickboxing helmet to their next show, for you will face a barrage of blows that would weaken the knees of any man.

Get out the engraver........a new team enters Kirby's Dreamland

Well my friends, its that time of year when one lucky team gets to reach immortality and get their name added to the hallowed Puckett Bucket. Susan's Boil came out of the gates with a pedestrian 72.5 points per week average and managed to eek out a 2-1 record. He then rattled off 6 straight W's with a herculean 84.77 weekly point average over that span. In the final week of the season, society was given a preview of the league finals, and speaking on behalf of society, we were severely disappointed. In their week 13 battle royale, Susan's Boil managed to outlast Frank the Tank in a very meager 56.57-48.11 victory. Two scores that every team in the league except one (Child Please) would have destroyed that week. After limping into the postseason, Susan's Boil would have little trouble on its way atop the grand pedestal, barring a slight scare from Tony Homo in the semis.

We did have a few records set this season. Tony Homo managed to put up the highest regular season point total ever (1095.44) . Second place for points during a regular season goes to the 2006 Lazer Wolves (1089.34), but the Lazer Wolves did it all in the dead bonus point era. Another interesting tidbit, Child Please is the only team ever in the history of the TBFFL to start a season 4-0 and not make the playoffs. *Note*: Only 3 other teams have started 4-0 and amazingly enough all 3 did in 2008 (Fuck Bernard Pollard, Frank Dux, and Steven Segal).

After another disappointing season of not making the playoffs for the Grand Punctuator while owning the 1st and 4th ranked player in all of the world, I am only left to wonder where and what it was that I ever did to offend Kirby Puckett. Maybe he disagrees with the phrase "climb the wall" that was attributed to him. I'm sorry Kirby, please let it go. Anyway, this morning I saw a majestic robin crap out 3 beautiful blue eggs which can only mean one thing......spring is near and keeper decisions need to be made. Cliff Lee, you better not fuck me.