May 4, 2006I Know This Post Makes Me A Super Tool...But it's a red letter day, kids! Look, I know that any level of respect you may have had for me is now gone but you have to understand - my stranglehold on the top position is tenuous at best (I was in 7th place last night) and the likelihood that I'll see #1 again is slim. So forgive me for being a bleeding tart about this but I really need my day in the sun! 
Posted on 4 May 2006
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April 5, 2006Fire Joe Morgan! Fantasy League
Our league is called "Fire Joe Morgan!" -- I came up with the name myself (genius, right?) -- and as you can probably assume, things did not go according to plan. Truth be told, they went down the shitter the second the draft began. ESPN let me in the warroom but wouldn't load any buttons - a few other members of our league were victims as well but it was terribly vexing because it's not like I didn't take precautions. I'm such a psycho that I entered 7 mock drafts earlier in the day just to make sure my computer was in working order and then I restarted my computer just before draft time to make sure it was fresh and ready to rock. Needless to say, the malfunctions made little sense but I don't know what more I could expect when dealing with ESPN. As much as I bash them, this was probably a little karma coming back to kick me in the ass. While struggling to load and re-load the applet, I auto-picked Johan Santana (I can't complain) and later (ESPN magically decided to stop acting like the devil) squeaked into the room within 5 seconds of auto-picking again in round 2. I took the first player I saw - Chase Utley. If you were around here last year, you remember my pain when I picked up Utley as a sleeper only to see him platoon half the season away with Placido Polanco. Anyway, I made a decent go of things for the next few rounds -- Oswalt, Cantu, Giambi, Sizemore, Peralta.. things weren't great but they were solid. Then I realized I only had 1 outfielder, 2 pitchers, no catcher, no relievers - you get the idea - and things immediately went south. After a brief panic attack, I realized that everyone I wanted, everyone I needed was gone, and if a desired pick hung on the board long enough to excite me, the bleeding rotter two spots ahead of me would take him. And even though he was completely unaware that he was spinning me out, I cursed him anyway. The whole process was absolutely maddening and by the time the draft was done, all I could think to do, well, was find free agents and scour other rosters to think up trades. I didn't want a beer, I didn't want to relax, I didn't want to kick back with my man. Actually, I did, but my needs were secondary to the issue at hand. Being an obessive-compulsive, anal-retentive neurotic means that I'm mentally incapable of doing anything other than behaving like a cocksmoking tool when a task is at hand... this is a 6-month task... At least I'll have my Zantac.
Posted on 5 April 2006
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So baseball season is on! Let my ulcers begin. The fantasy draft for the pay league I'm in went down over the weekend and after having a look at my roster, I placed an order for a 2-month supply of Zantac that should last me until May. 
By the way... Am I the only one who thinks Michael Wilbon looks like Zacarias Moussaoui of Al Qaeda? :)
September 15, 2005Zantac Fantasy Baseball League, Part IIFUCK!Remember these days? So my fantasy team is in the shitter and it's like day 8. I know, I know - only a week has passed.. be patient.. it works out. Sod off. This sucks. My team's performance thus far is so abysmal that it actually hurts my feelings. How can they treat me this way? I mean... I had so much faith in them. I believed! Following painstaking research and analysis, I found these players to be the best candidates for my Team of 5x5 Dreams. Something about this is quite criminal... isn't it? Well they have returned. Once again, I've allowed fantasy baseball to lead me down the primrose path of hope and glory only to have it bash me in the face with disappointment and frustration. After the All-Star break, my prospects started to improve, the ulcer subsided, and I could log into the league page without crying. I shed dead-weight jerks like Adrian Beltre, swiped Johnny Damon and Dontrelle Willis in some solid trades, and made some nice pick-ups in free agency. By late August, I was in 2nd place and 5 points away from Plainville Penguins - the goon in the lead that has made 73 roster moves (20 in the last week) over the course of the season. As the days went by, my team slowly but surely chipped away at his lead and then out of nowhere, it all stopped. At first I didn't care. What's a negative .5 here or there when it's happening to everyone else? But after a few days, it wasn't everyone else. It was just me, as my peckerhead players threw me under the bus by conspiring to stop hitting for average. In the past 7 days, I have lost FIVE points in batting average. Somehow they're managing to produce in every other facet of baseball but God forbid they do better than 0/4 or 1/5 on any given night. I had one night last week where only 3 of my players actually hit the fucking pitch and Derek Lee wasn't even one of them! I'm in third place now and my position is only safe from 4th place because I have a 16 point cushion... who knows how long that will last. Why couldn't the season have ended last week when things were going well for me? Now I'm going to lose in shame. Thanks team. Losing was one thing back in June when I was fighting for 5th place and simply wanted to avoid failing the female species as the only representative in my league. But now that I've had a taste of the top, it's fuckin war! I'm not standing for this bullshit anymore. Johnny Damon, Edgar Renteria, Javy Lopez, Lance Berkman, Brian Giles.. I'm talkin to you. Pick your shit up! I'll be damned if Flash's Isotopes go down in flames to a team as fruity as the Plainville Penguins. Hopefully my anger will seep out to all the ballparks tonight and my players, sensing my impending wrath, will hit the ball like their asses are on fire and a .350 average is the cure. 18 days left. -------- Original Comments
Posted on 15 September 2005
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July 31, 2005Fantasy Balls Team So for the 3rd time in as many days, my nephew, Alejandro, has gotten me in trouble. The last time, he and I were playing baseball in front of the house. I made the pitch and he ripped a line drive right by my head, through the window, and directly into my mother's bum. When we heard her scream, I snatched him up and we made a run for it, luckily happening upon my dad as he left for the market. We were in the road by the time she came running outside in a rage. I got nailed upon returning home but I suppose I had it coming.So a couple hours ago, my nephew strolled into the living room, wide-eyed and ready for action. "Can we play?" "It's 3 am, sweetie, I don't think so." But I really did want to play. Besides, eventually he'd tire and I could put him back in bed. "Your mummy's gonna kill me." "Yes! And Mama, too!!" His acknowledgement that my sister and mum would take turns beating me for letting him stay up was a bit unnerving. So we started with basketball, but after he made 2 goals in a row, he started yipping and yelling about high fives. Next came war but after he thought he killed me, he again cheered for himself in high pitched tones. This pattern continued through 3 more activities, each ending when he screamed in excitement about his success. Thinking a drive would calm him down, I took him to Dunkin Donuts for a snack but only managed to get hit on by an unfortunate looking trucker with tourettes and a sticker on his rig that said, "Don't get mad, get naked." We got our donuts to go. After returning home, he wanted to play baseball but I told him I had a better game - fantasy baseball. "Do you know what OBP is?" "I don't have to potty." I marked that as no. "Do you know what saves are?" His little brow furrowed for a moment. "To not throw away." "Good. But do you know what saves are for baseball?" "Maronino Rivera." Without hesitation, the geek in me became overwhelmingly giddy. Where would I begin? Should I just talk to him about my fantasy team? Maybe just the Yankees? How much could we discuss and in how much detail? What does he already know? He associates Rivera with saves; clearly he has more knowledge. I put him on my lap and we started with my rise to 3rd place in my fantasy league [I'm gunnin for you Matt] and my recent trades, drops, and pickups. But after talking about drafting Derrick Lee like a genius and my most recent pickup of the still hot Jeff Francoeur, he said, "Why aren't you first?" "Well I'm trying." "I hope so Aunt Aminan... I hope so.... 3rd place... is not good." And then he shot me this look of concern, as if I need to get my shit together and straighten out my team. Momentarily offended, I asked him what he thought I ought to do. "Add me to your team. I'm dy-no-mite!." It was then that my mom, weary and still angry from the giant bruise on her arse, appeared and asked why we were up. "Mama, I'm going to be on Aunt Aminan's fantasy balls team! I'm dynomite, Mama! I'm hot!!" Then he clapped, marched around, and screamed about fantasy balls, being the fantasy balls, and being dynomite while my horrified mother held her hands over her mouth. Knowing that no amount of explanation could ever counteract "fantasy balls team" at this time of night, I hung my head in shame and prayed for the moment to pass. "Fantasy balls, Amjan? What in--The nerve of you using such language with him!! We'll discuss this in the morning, young lady." Of course. -------- Original Comments
Posted on 31 July 2005
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April 13, 2005Zantac Fantasy Baseball LeagueSo my fantasy team is in the shitter and it's like day 8. I know, I know - only a week has passed.. be patient.. it works out. Sod off. This sucks. My team's performance thus far is so abysmal that it actually hurts my feelings. How can they treat me this way? I mean... I had so much faith in them. I believed! Following painstaking research and analysis, I found these players to be the best candidates for my Team of 5x5 Dreams. Something about this is quite criminal... isn't it? Hell if I know.The thing is, I can get over the hurt feelings, bruised and damaged though they may be, but what about my pride? My opportunities to gain respect? As the only girl in my league, I represent the whole of female-dom .. from our butch, East German counterparts to the complaining, whining, non-sports-understanding twats that have the nerve to schedule a wedding in the middle of the Final Four [Alexa Kellogg: I'm speaking to you] and every girl in between. I had high hopes... my draft went well, I got the majority of players that I wanted from my lists, and my final round fillers were solid. But then the comedy of errors and unforeseen madness began. Lance Berkman and Eric Gagne went straight to DL-town, followed soon by the dizzy, discombobulated, Justin Morneau. Chase Utley was moved into a platoon with a $4.6 million contract drain whose name sounds more fitting for Desi Arnez's band at the Tropicana than 2nd base. Johan Santana and Joe Nathan did well while Mark Mulder and David Wells got shelled like a bushel of peas. Edgar Renteria started the season 0/8 and has since managed to improve to a mere 5/28, batting .179 with 1 run and 4 RBIs. Thanks, Edgar. Ass. Adrian Beltre is picking things up, as is Javy Lopez, but JD Drew? I think you might find his skills outside Turner Field, having fallen out of his arse somewhere between the Braves clubhouse and his car. Nice .074, big guy. AAHH!! Needless to say, I'm bitter. I'm angry. I want justice. But having gone through multiple Serenity Nows and chi harnessing routines, I know that I must remain calm. It is only week 2, after all, and my team is comprised of players sure to prove themselves worthy over the long haul. (right?) I should remember to have faith. I should remember that this is a marathon, not a sprint. I should remember any other applicable cliches that you've thought of and I have not. Besides, this whole rage thing probably isn't too attractive anyway. This is a fitting moment for a sigh. Not one one of the melodramatic, all-hope-is-lost sighs.. just the kind where you tip your head back, shout a powerful obscenity or two, scowl at the heavens (ceiling, whatever), and go back to watching tv. I think the best thing for me to do right now is to take a walk to CVS and fill that Zantac prescription. 23 weeks left. -------- Original Comments
Posted on 13 April 2005
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March 14, 2005Spider-man's Greatest Bible Stories
In other news, I'm now in a fantasy baseball league, which means that I'm now developing an ulcer. I've played in many fantasy leagues but all were for football and futbol, two topics of which I have a large amount of knowledge. Fantasy baseball, however, always seemed like the venture of the ultimate stathead... the guy that could not only name the starting lineup for every club in the game but the hot AAA prospects ready to receive the call; the guy that understands why on base percentage trumps batting average; the guy that was willing to commit 6 months of his life to the daily ins and outs of Major League Baseball because he loves the game that much. I was certainly not that guy. But Matt prodded me a little and in time, I agreed to join up. In doing so, however, I failed to consider how much this decision would change my life. As most of you know, I have a frightful case of OCD and an addictive personality. I'm not Monk... I'm functional in regular society. But all the same, I have some issues. For those of you who alphabetize your cds and dvds and therefore think you can identify with me, just put it away... you can't compete. In any case, Matt explained everything that I need to do in preparation for MLB draft day, the most intense of all fantasy experiences. I listened intently, developed a written plan of attack, and then immersed myself in the game with maniacal researching, examining, organizing, and compiling information on nearly 550 baseball players and the sleepers in their midst. I rank ordered the players by position and then again by every applicable category before creating an overall wish list. These 20 sheets were printed, 3-hole punched, and placed in a binder. I was going to own this 25 round draft... I mean, all of that should have been enough, right? When I snapped the clasps shut late Saturday night, I felt exhilerated. It was like having a great week of practice before a huge game. But as I kicked back with my Coke and Cheez-Its, fear and doubt crept in. When have any of you had a great week of practice that fully translated into results that weekend? How many times have we heard our coaches excited about the upcoming game simply because we had a great week getting ready only to watch the basketball team or the football team embarrassed to no end. Who knows why it happens. Maybe things go so well in preparation that you get too comfortable and fail to get in the right frame of mind for competition... maybe the week wasn't as good as you thought. Either way, too much success in practice seems to often result in a mediocre product on the playing field. I remember a week of practice before the Classic junior year that was easily our best to date. Everything was fluid and crisp, the flow was strong, and frankly, I thought I'd been infused with a bit of The Force. But when the game started that Friday night, we had our arses handed to us in a shutout that still causes my brain to swell. Could this happen to me in the draft? Surely there were factors that I missed. Had I prepared long enough? Was there a website that I didn't see? A mock draft whose results I'd failed to consider? Needless to say, I spun out. Cheers!
Posted on 14 March 2005
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