Much to the detriment of my fragile, testosterone-fueled male ego, I am ashamed to admit that my annually recurring dream of hoisting the Team ALS Boy flag atop the Bay Area Fantasy Football mountaintop is officially over for yet another year. And we still have five games left to play. Oh, the humanity!
Here’s what went wrong: I blame my first round draft pick, Maurice Jones-Drew, for not doing points-wise what a fifth pick overall should be doing this year. One rushing touchdown in eight weeks is not exactly what I envisioned when I laser-pointed to MJD’s name on draft day back in early September.
Next, I will never again, for as long as I am allowed to play fantasy football, draft Randy Moss to be on my team. I hate having him on my team because if you put him in your lineup, he has a habit of not giving it his best effort and if you don’t put him in, that will be the week that he goes off and catches ten passes for 200 yards and scores three touchdowns. Never again, dude.
Thirdly, the two leaders in our division are both 7 – 2. Since only the top two teams make the playoffs, it doesn’t seem all that likely that my underachieving 2 – 7 squad will win the remaining five games while they will lose them all. And besides, I’ve already lost twice to each of them and interdivisional records are the first tiebreaker so even if the aforementioned scenario plays out, I still lose.
Not only is this more than a little rough on my man-pride to have been beaten down week after week and eliminated this early on in the season, now I have to answer to a higher authority and explain myself to Fehmeen. Every year she gives me the $200 entry fee out of the goodness of her heart and the generosity of her soul and asks me to win the league. All that I have been able to do during the time that we’ve been together is to finish in fourth place (which gets your money back).
I am sorry about letting us down this season but as I have alluded to above, it wasn’t entirely my fault. I promise to take it all next year and restore the good Picetti name — if you and your money let me.
Perhaps I should just take the advice that I gave my middle school students when I taught them how to play poker: If you’re sitting around the table and you can’t figure out who the patsy is, then the patsy is you.