What the Deuce?

Here we are a whopping month into the fantasy baseball season and I'm already looking for what went so terribly wrong. My draft day preparation and state of mind was exactly on par with where it was last year when my team made an improbable playoff run, so that couldn't be where the problem was. That can only mean one thing, if it's not the manager's fault, the crime being committed here must fall squarely on the shoulders of his shitty players. (This is the part where David Caruso takes off his glasses and says something like "It looks like someone has....struck out"---cue Roger Daltry)
The leading suspect for the murder committed on my dreams is none other than, The Carcass of Carl Crawford. No I'm not referring to the lost Mark Twain volume in which Huck Finn pokes a dead bloated black man with a stick after finding him floating on the mighty Mississip, it's how the South Shreveport fantasy sports media is now referring to Red Sox left fielder. Why, because he smells like shit and there are always buzzards flying around him trying to see if they can get an easy meal off me (No I don't want anything involving 2014 draft picks Eric). The guy just signed a $142 million dollar contract and has a sperm tatooed on his neck, did I really think he would stay hungry? It's no secret that Crawford is from a real sketch neighborhood in Houston and is an inner-city kid to his core. To understand the complex life of someone who has been through such trials and tribulations as The Carcass of Carl Crawford, I think one must turn to a brilliant mind of our time that has also gone through such travesties himself. For that brilliance, I turned to the great Fiddy Cent who once said, "Get rich or die tryin." Well, The Carcass is now rich, I guess there is no longer a reason to try.
Another very substantial breakthrough I've had when studying the history of Tiger Bait fantasy baseball is this cutting edge theory. If you want your team to be good, you can't miss on any of your first 3 picks. Miss on one, you may make the playoffs as a low seed, miss on two pieces of your triumvirate and you'll be figuring out your next year keepers by May 3rd. I feel like if you've made it this far through this poorly written expose' that is being used to help me deflect personal thoughts of baseball shortcomings, you should know that as of today, The Carcass could be construed as a miss. Well let's take a look at the other fellas that comprise my triumvirate. First off, there is my rock, my northstar. His position in the night sky never waivers, it just pulls over to sober up and hope no cops find him before he can sleep it off. Miguel Cabrera, I thank you, scotch is in the mail my friend. Now, in order for this theory to hold true, the genius that created it said that if your team is in the basement, there must have been atleast 2 misses in the triumverate. Well since my team is now rooming with Anne Frank, I feel like I should back this theory up. My 3rd pick was Victor Martinez who decided to break up his uber slow start with what Al Michaels would refer to as a groin (I really fucking hate when he does this by the way, "Randy Moss is out with a knee." What the shit does that mean, and hopefully now you'll notice it and it will drive you nuts as well). Anyway, Victor Martinez apparrently has a groin and decided to sit out for a few weeks. Miss.
Well, that explains my lack of offensive prowess, let's see how I manage to re-write the Un-record book on the other side of the plate every week. Pitchers 1 and 2, same as last year's awesome staff. Pitcher 3, second year in a row has decided to personally aid his family after a Tornado destroyed their home. Excuse me Roy, you make millions of dollars, buy your family a steel encampment and get back to work. At the very least, send them a check that your employer so graciously gave you in return for your services. I once read an article where your father is a a fifty-something year-old logger that never missed a day of work in his life and refuses to retire although his son makes enough money for him to do so comfortably. Quit being such a disappointment to him Mr. Oswalt, get back to Philly and earn your check. Also, while I'm at it, why must every pitcher I touch lay an absolute turd for me. It's like somewhere between last year and this year I turned from King Midas to his evil twin brother that can magically turn things to shit just by touching them. Everytime I pick up someone for a spot-start they manage to post a solid 9.00 ERA. If Cole didn't make such an irate rant this offseason about changing your fantasy team name, I would have already changed mine to "5 IP, 5 ER's".
And there you have it folks. The explanation for what may be a truly monumental year. After looking a little closer, final verdict on this case is that there was no one murderer, it has been a real team effort. As I said in my opening paragraph and will now reiterate in my closing paragraph, because that's how Mr. Hurlbut taught me, it's not my fault, it's my team's fault. I've obviously done my part, they are all working toward a common goal as a true unit. Unfortunately, that goal is, Lord of Nations.....You have first choice, what position would you like to draft from?

A Rockie and a Rocker

After a few good seasons, and no longer being considered an up-and-comer, Colorado Rockies shortstop, Troy Tulowitzki, has decided to work on his image. "Now that I'm a mainstay on the club, I decided that I can afford to focus on being totally awesome and not worry so much about my two strike approach." It is this new philosophy that lead the all-star shortstop to seek the help of an unlikely mentor. That mentor is none other than Misfits founder, Glenn Danzig. Yes, that Glenn Danzig.
I then sat down with the student and teacher to dig a little deeper into their relationship. Turns out this rather unlikely pair made their connection in a rather unlikely way. "I was on my bi-monthly visit to my general practitioner when I saw the most unusual message on the sharps container in his office," recounted the now giddy shortstop recollecting the beginning of his relationship. "I watched the nurse dispose of the needle she used to give me my vaccinations and there it was." The "it" that Tulowitzki is referring to was a giant label that ordered all used needles be delivered to one, Glenn Danzig. After seeing this, Tulowitzki was puzzled. "What on Earth would a man want with used needles?" he asked the nurse. "He has his house servants place them in random articles of clothing that he may wear throughout the week," the nurse replied. "I don't get it," said the befuddled MLBer. "His house servants (aka black people) hide the needles everywhere from inside headbands to inside fingerless gloves." It turns out that Danzig thinks that the piercing of his skin with unexpected needles keeps him tough, and the fact that they are all used needles keeps his immune system tough. "How can I expect my immune system to beat the fuck out of disease if I let it become a pussy?", growled Danzig. "Thats it, that's the kind of stuff I want my brain to say!" Tulowitzki interjected.
For those of you that don't know, Glenn Danzig is quite the intimidating force. Imagine a grizzly bear that just knocked down 2 rails of coke and drank a case of Red Bull and you would have Danzig in his sleeping state. It is this shear intensity that drew the softspoken shortstop to the rocker for tutelage. "I was tired of the guys giving me doodoo in the clubhouse for my music selections, so I figured one offseason of work with a guy like Mr. Danzig might change all that for me." Each afternoon, the pair wakes up and starts their day gnawing on stainless steel construction grade chain. "This is how you weed out your pussy teeth," explained Danzig, sensing my confusion. After this breakfast, it's on to metal working. Armed with either a cutting torch or a metal grinder, the two cut/grind on re-bar for about an hour, no purpose in mind, just need to see sparks flying. "If your shirts still on at this point you fucked up during breakfast" adds the teacher. Following this warm-up, it's on to a game called cinder ball. For this game, "Mother" is blared from speakers while the two stand roughly 10 feet apart and exchange tosses of cinder blocks. No defense is allowed and hits below the neck don't count, first to receive 5 hits wins. The next part of the workout is where the Rockie had the hardest part adjusting. This part of the training takes place in what Danzig refers to as the "Rape Room". Inside this 30'x 30' room framed by, you guessed it, stainless steel walls, no beds can be found. Only empty stainless steel toolboxes, the kind you see in the back of pick-up trucks with Salt-Life stickers on the back windshield. The two bleeding men wait inside the Rape Room while the harem of the Rocker is injected with pure adrenaline. The women are then released in the room where they began to scatter like ants running out of a freshly kicked mound. "I understand the getting our dicks wet part, but wouldn't it be easier to just slip a little date rape in their morning coffee?" asks Tulowitzki. "T-Rex doesn't want to be fed, T-Rex wants to hunt," snaps back the furious mentor. This elaborate exercise goes on until the wee hours of the morning, the group sleeps, then repeats the regimen the very next day. 7 days a week, like clock-work.
"The only reason I granted this fucking interview is because a rumor started that I may want to walk up to the Biebs, thats bullshit!" snarled the now angry Tulowitzki. There is no doubt that his training is already shining through in the pupil. He appearred to be way more edgy and intense even as this interview took place. Look for a new brand of baseball out of the perennial MVP candidate. This year when you see Troy Tulowitzki break up a double-play or go into home standing up, don't feel sorry for the player that felt the brunt of Glenn Danzig's schooling, feel greateful for he was allowed to live. And if you are the opposing pitcher and #2 steps to the plate for the Rockies and you begin to hear "Mother" playing on the house system, remember, no defense and only hits to the head count.

Draft Awards

Sadly, another draft has come and gone. Also, sadly our teams aren't posted and I can only remember about 6 of my players. Since there is nothing else to do and the fact that my body doesn't want me to do anything that involves me getting out of my chair, I want to take this time to borrow a page from The Academy and dole out some awards for this past weekend.

Stickiest shoes goes to: No brainer- Pucketteers
Best Artistry: Cowhide Joyride, a baseball diamond in the medium of highlighter
Most beers chugged: Bream Team, in a landslide
Most throwup in a toilet: Bream Team
Most throwup on Charles' Escalade: Bream Team
Most Green Liquid in the beaker that follows you around: Cowhide Joyride
Deepest V on a shirt: Re-Tods
Most outfit changes: Twinks & Bears
Largest rats this side of the Mason-Dixon Line: The bar we ended up at last night
Most times your phone number was given to an Asian Guy: Bream Team (1), 7 others tied at 0
Most food consumed during draft: Pucketteers (Pizza, 2 bags of stale baked cheetos, 3 bags of fresh regular cheetos, scorching hot sausage, a bowl of cool ranch and nacho cheese doritos, 1 hamburger......the fence never stood a chance
First guy topless: Somewhat of a Shocker, Seal Clubbers
Laser Frisbee launcher assassin: Business&Leather
Most well trained former Green Bay Packer: Shitface Dickfarts (Ray Nitschke didn't move an inch in 4 hours)
Best portrayal of a persona via outfit: Pinstripe Pirates (Yankee Jersey with Graybill on back, Frank the Tank undershirt, GoArmy backpack...If I drew a caricature of you, that is exactly what I'd draw)

And now our version of The Oscars' best picture......The award for best draft distraction.

Nominees are: Shitface Dickfarts (a crying baby), Business&Leather (taking forever on picks), Bream Team (wood glue shoe fill), Lord of Nations (pee pants and testicles)

And the winner is.....Lord of Nations....this is his second nomination and first win in this category


Please feel free to add other awards that I may have overlooked

Draft Week

It was the week of the draft and all through my day; I was doing nothing for which I receive pay.
Draft selection week was just enough to wet my tip; now my shaft is looking forward to take its own dip.
Injury reports, spreadsheets, and spring training games; all to get hammered and draft guys with cool names.
A bunch of grown dudes getting together and yelling out names; no doubt that shockers and reaches will take place on this day (just in case you missed it, the previous remark was gay)

Cole keeping 3 pitchers fucked everyone insane; then Wainright and Greinke made it a train.
Tod keeping 2 third sackers made that position thin; I pray to god I dont get stuck with A-Ram again.
Charles will no doubt go crazy when his new secret player is picked; look out secret player, Travis Hafner was once the muse for his dick.
Gerrad kept a team of all young men; never borrow his computer, you may be part of a federal investigation
Eric will no doubt reach for a Yank; new name won't help him, his team will always Tank
Cannon, 2 years 0 drafts, you should be ashamed; and while we're at, what the fuck is the meaning of your team name
Liv's draft day will again be bleak; because on draft day Jim Boeheim will be on vacation for the week

The more I type this the more lame it seems, so I will stop here because rhymes suck.

Venezuela Gets a Navy?

After signing a 7 year/$80.5 million contract, Rockies speedy outfielder is still not happy. Taking cue from last year's Stephen Strasburg and Oral-B coalition, Gonzalez has partnered with the most unlikely of counterparts. "My agent came to me with this propasal and I just couldn't pass it up," a hardly bilingual Gonzalez said through horrible english with a heapin helpin of thick Venezuelan mixed in. Now that the ink has dried on the deal, one thing is for sure, Carlos now has plenty of pockets to put all of his cash in.
The deal that Carlos Gonzalez is speaking of is his partnership with American clothes outfitter Old Navy. "When we were approached by their people for Carlos to help promote their summer line of cargo shorts, we knew it was a homerun!," said an almost giddy Lester Murdoch, agent for the newly inked spokesman. Terms for the deal remain undisclosed, although one can only speculate that it is quite a hefty sum.
As the softspoken centerfielder stepped up to the podium at his recent press conference, he mumbled into the mic "I love them, they have tons of room for stuff." "We'll have to work on that," said the giggling Murdoch. At the recent photo shoot to launch the new campaign, the photographer realized very quickly that serious was out as an option. "The kid's a, how you say, goofy moron toddler?" quipped Hans Van Persie, the photog tagged with capturing the youngster modeling his newly sponsored apparrel. "But all in all, that's exactly who I feel the company is marketing towards, so I feel we captured the essence of the campaign." Look for many more ads like the one above to hit bus benches and billboards this summer.
Last spring, young Mr. Strasburg may have started a trend, and not the one Adam Wainright followed yesterday. The flamethrower opened up new doors in the cross-promotiional world. No longer are athletes relegated to promoting sporting good stores or car dealerships. Now through marketing genius, they can help push all sorts of products. Without a doubt, there will be plenty more to follow.

Backstop Boys Team Logos

In preparation of the upcoming 2011 fantasy baseball season, Backstop Boys owners are tasked with creating a team logo that truly represents what each team is all about (shitty Microsoft Paint skills required). Unfortunately, several of the team owners are either 1)a nancy boy, 2)have no self confidence, or 3)simply suck at fantasy baseball, thus causing said owners to oft change his (hopefully none of you are categorized as her) team name. Perhaps the changing of one's team name is just the boost a team needs to kick start a run for the playoffs, after all, I myself have finished 2nd and 1st over the last 2 years since changing my team name to the now permanent, ever popular team name to be revealed later on in this blog post. Clearly by demeaning the players on my team, I have motivated them to excel and bring championships where they belong. It reminds me of the time Wes Welker did a little too much talking about some guy's foot fetish and said foot fetish guy proceeded to send Wes Welker home for the remainder of the season. It was such a great moment, it seemed like it was just yesterday, but I digress.

So without further ado, I present to you the team logo for the (Land)Man, the Myth, the Legend, the creator and owner of this blog, The Grand Punctuator:

Team Name: beefeaters (Not to be confused with beefeeders, b-feeters or anything else that sounds like a combination of the words beef and eaters)

___________________________________________________________________________________
And for the moment we've all been waiting for, my hours and hours of Google Images searching and Microsoft Paint expertise have resulted in the following masterpiece:

Team Name: Shitface Dickfarts

And there you have it, the first 2 Backstop Boys team logos for 2011. Stay tuned for more shitty displays of Microsoft Paint at its finest. Good day sirs.

__________________________________________________________________________________
And the latest entrant into the Backstop Boys Logo game...its the Pucketteers Owner with his rendition of a portly African-American in a European Hat biting a knife because his limbs were amputated due to his diabetes....I present to you...

Team Name: The Pucketteers

__________________________________________________________________________________
Here's the first effort at the Re-Tods logo. Not too creative, but it is what it is. When you other slack asses figure out your logos, send them to us and we'll post them.

Team Name: The Re-Tods


___________________________________________________________________________________
Sorry for the okie doke that I had to pull. The previous beefeaters image is in homage to my first 4 years of destitute performances with that moniker. A cleansing of demons if you will. I needed a new moniker with no previous baggage so I called upon my made up title that usually only goes on bachelor party emails or wedding gifts and stuff. I present to you, C.M., LoN. (Its a little disturbing how much Florida looks like the flaccid penis in all anatomy books)

Team Name: Lord of Nations




_____________________________________________________________________________________

I have this wonderful image of the huge scoreboard at the All Valley Karate Tournament where Daniel LaRusso's name along with the picture of the banzai tree in front of the sunset advancing in the bracket against the evil cobra pictures.....I can't help but feel that I need to be part of this magical 80's americana. I want my logo next to other logos on some sort of display board thing. With my dream in mind, can everyone please get a logo made so our draft board can also have these amazing works of art next to our team names?>

Rock the Vote

Pick one. They are labeled as follows Top=1 Bottom=4. Hopefully you turds can figure out the other 2.