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)