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.
