There are a few things I feel I need to get off my chest as the fantasy football season comes to an end. Mainly, just as in real football, the regular season means very little. Teams start anew once the playoffs begin, as evidence by Sho Nuff and myself, numbers 1 and 2 in the regular season, battling for third place.
Secondly, my team really, really shit the bed in the semifinal. This is more than just your average bed-shitting. You can't take these sheets to the dry cleaner, hoping to salvage them. You can't even wash them and give them away to the homeless. No, this is the type of bed-shitting where you simply ball up your 500 thread count Linens N Things sheets, throw them in the dumpster, and count your losses. Hats off to In The Zone and his players, who all decided they wanted to have career days against me. Well played, sirs.
With that said, I'd like to give a few shouts to those who made this fantasy season memorable.
Matt Ryan - a valuable and worthy mid-season pickup
Tony Romo - i hate you and i hate the cowboys. thanks a lot for getting injured. i hope T.O. ruins yours and Jerry Jones' life, you both deserve it
Roddy White - you were everything i ever hoped for, and more
Marques Colston - fuck you
Lance Moore - if it wasn't for you, i would hate marques colston even more. you broke out like acne on a teenagers upper back. thanks.
Steve Breaston - your name has "breast" in it. neat.
Marshawn Lynch - you stayed consistent with your consistently inconsistent team
Frank Gore - i like you, but you got injured for the semifinal...not cool
Chris Johnson and Lendale White - i hated having to choose which one of you to start. oh, what a joy it could be if you were just one person. Chrisdale Whiteson perhaps, or WhiteJohn Dalish. either way, i never expected either of you to do anything, at all
Jason Elam - you singlefootedly beat GB at Lambeau, Chicago, and Tampa Bay. well done.
Chicago's Defense - a monster, as always.
And finally, Kurt Warner, my MVP. this poem is for you
You started on the season on the bench, your future looking dim
But then, Whats this? A second chance! when news of Leinart banging fat chicks caught wind
I grabbed you from the waiver wire, hoping for a bit of luck
After one game, I saw what you did, and thought, "hey, this guy doesn't suck"
And then, from there, you defied all odds, passing 40 times a game
With no running back, and 3 stud receivers, you regained the look of fame
Week after week, you made defenses look meek, and made me look like a pro
Until the semifinal, when you shit the bed, and looked like an average joe
But I won't hate, I'll celebrate, because of the times that we had
So this poem is for you, my MVP, isn't it fucking rad?
Thursday, December 18, 2008
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