Over the next few minutes you will ingest trade talk, power rankings of sorts, roster analysis, player performance, team management, feuds, various stories of triumph, and, at times, entire seasons reduced to nothing more than a few sorrowful words. But I have to beg of you one thing. It’s just one. Do not read. Digest. Savor. Relish. Consider every morsel that you glance over with your eyes. Be mindful. But do not read. The WSJ is too precious for that. And look around you. Here we are on in this league. Accept. Accept all of it. And forgive (okay, maybe not that).
You represent the ruin of my art and my life, and now you get to be a part of it. Part of what I hope is my… masterpiece. See this post as nothing more than a playful twist on a comfort classic. The Weekly Round Up. The most offensive assault on the human eye ever contrived. Unethically sourced information and lesser grade structured writing imprisoned by shoddy blogging websites. It’s everything wrong with us, and yet we associate it with innocence. With childhood. Mom and Dad. But what transforms this monstrosity is fire. The purifying flame. It nourishes us, warms us, reinvents us, forges and destroys us. We must embrace the flame. We must be cleansed. Made clean. Like martyrs or heretics, we can be subsumed… and made anew. I Love you all! Let’s dive into….. The Mess:
I’d like to present your first course, “The Mess”. Gault didn’t attend any prestigious podcasts, radio shows, or read articles to create a hypothesis for what a complete roster ought to look like. His goal was to win the coveted league trophy. Isn’t that right, salty Gaulty? Gault is talented. He’s good. He’s very good. But he’s not great. He’ll never be great. He desperately wants my prestige, my job, my talent. He aspires to greatness, but he’ll never achieve it. Correct, Austin? Season isn’t over but by golly, being 1 game out from last place at this stage in the season is near damning. You’ll be placing a gun in your mouth now and decorating the decorative back drop with your brains.
The Mess:
1 – Cooked Roster with zero depth
2 oz. – Frustration and disbelief that he’s at this point
5 – Games left against better teams
23 – % chance of making the playoffs
27 – Missed calls
Our second course is a favorite amongst our loyal regulars. I offered a chance at redeeming your season. Daily contact with a plethora of trade offers, all of which you swatted away as if they were a meaningless cod. It wasn’t cod, you donkey. It was halibut. Rare, fucking spotted halibut. And it matters to the trader, not the tradee, who’s work turns to shit because you won’t make deal. Now your shit roster with the 2nd lowers PF is in disarray and you’ll keep telling yourself “I’ll ride this out with my squad” “I haven’t lost the locker room” “I’ll get a decent RB for Daniels”. Wake up! FF 101: Never trust your season to a rookie QB. Cya next year, “Killa”. Only thing you killed is that overcooked roster. Nobody eatin’ that!
Rare Spotted Halibut:
17 – Trade offers rejected
1 – Yet another wasted season
0 – “Decent” RB’s you’re getting for Daniels
2 – Worthwhile players on your roster who’s stocks are plummeting
Our next dish is a classic. It survives the test of time and everyone loves it. The story of an underdog making a comeback. Luke demolished Gault last week in a public sodomizing and is now poised to make a playoff run. What’s that, Luke? You’re still hungry? You want more? *Audible gasp* You want a….a….a cheeseburger?! A real cheeseburger. Not some fancy, deconstructed, affluent bullshit, a *real* cheeseburger? Well, I’ll make you a very good, very traditional cheeseburger. I’ll make you feel as if you’re eating the first cheeseburger you ever ate. The cheap one your parents could barely afford. Would you like crinkle-cut fries, or julienne? How about a side of making a run for the playoffs?
Cheeseburger:
6 – Players scoring over 20 points last week
2 – Potential players on borrowed time in Taylor and Dobbins (see advanced analytics)
6 oz. – Hope
This next excerpt isn’t so much of a dish, but a punishment. A punishment fit for a movie lover. Do you wanna know why you’re being punished? I saw the film Calling Doctor Sunshine and I did not enjoy it. I saw this movie last week. I’ve made 2 trades that easily could have netted me a loss in those respective weeks, but I timed it against bad rosters and I figured I could weather the storm. You were one of those teams where I made an untimely trade that could have cost me, but you’re roster really isn’t that good and I figured I’d win any ways. Well, I was right. And now you’ve lost 3 straight games and your crown jewel is Ladd McConkey and a CMC with arthritis in 2 achilles tending on a 49ers team who’s dead last in their division. The memory of your face in that film, and seeing you again now haunts me. Drives me. What happens to an artist when he loses his purpose? It’s pitiful. Cya, Dave.
The next course is called Memory. And that is what it’s meant to evoke. A memory. So, let me tell you a memory of mine. When I was growing up, a child in Cleveland, Ohio, Tuesday was taco night. Taco Tuesday! And this, here, this lady here. This is the team I gave an ass whooping to last week and stapled a scarlet letter to my chest. As you can see, he was rather drunk last weekend and was sending me coded texts about being the godfather to his fictitious child. This is not unusual. I digress. When I was accumulating the pieces for a super team, one Tuesday I decided to shit talk Bryon. Really bad. Also, not unusual. Bryon grew angry and that anger stewed as he took it out on Taran matching a league high for points in a game with 204. You remember that, Bryon, don’t you? It was, as you can imagine, as a very memorable taco night last week for Bryon and he channeled that anger into what should lead him atop the power rankings.
Tacos:
204 – points in a game matching a league high for the year
32 – staples used to attach a scarlet letter to my chest
1 – mountain top that he won’t welcome me to (see last weeks post)
WE LOVE YOU TOO CHEF!
