Okay, so retirement from the bully pulpit didn’t sit well with me. I thought it would. I thought I was done. I thought, “Hey dude, you’ve used every joke you know twice. Twitter has made you obsolete with its cast of a million “real time” critics. Maybe you should move out of the way. You are driving a 15 year old car in the fast lane. People are probably giving you the finger but you are too blind to see it.”

This is what I told myself. Yeah, that’s right. Not only am I paranoid, I’ve begun to talk to myself.

But alas, shutting down this weekly bile-fest was like trying to plug a volcano. The pressure blew out a few manhole covers here in the neighborhood. And the last thing we need is little Johnny getting his brains bashed in by a flying manhole cover on his way to school.

Like the NFL, I too am very concerned about head trauma (for obvious reasons). So in the name of public safety, I return.

If any of you are sick of hearing the mostly painful journey of my dynasty team, your health just improved. I was shut out of my dynasty league by the commish a few days before our rookie draft.

It seems that the same wry, sarcastic comments you Huddlers don’t want to live without, didn’t sit well with my former apparently estrogen-rich commissioner. When he still hadn’t even set up the Leaguesafe so teams could pay for the upcoming season just days before the draft, without a peep of any status updates, I got a bit grumpy. The hell you say? Believe it brother. Had to let off a little steam. Message board: “Well guys, we had a good run. Maybe we aren’t having a league this year.”

Okay, that’s pretty tame stuff. But it didn’t sit well with my procrastinating “League God” and was labeled my “retirement” from the league. Boom. Locked out. Done. Nothing I could do. If only I could learn to accept incompetence, bendable rules, and endless procrastination, I wouldn’t have these kind of problems.

Note to self: Don’t devote 6 years of your life to a project that can be taken from you on a whim.

Do you know how painful it is to lose a dynasty team? It’s like your child. I wanted to call the police and have the petty tyrant bastard arrested for kidnapping. Okay, I admit it, I did call the police station where he lives, but apparently the suits that write the laws in this country don’t give a damn about my fantasy team any more than the head coaches that casually shiv my teams and bleed them on a weekly basis.

So anyway, after a brief period of mourning, a series of wicked ass-ripping emails to Commissioner Gestapo, and narrowly staving off a stroke, I moved on.

As part of the healing process after the dingo ate my baby, I decided to give rebirth to my dynasty team through redraft. It’s the old lemons/lemonade bit. I was going to cash on this team one way or another. And no panty-waste little twit with control over the league console could stop me.
 
I drew the 5th pick in the draft in my FFPC format, and saw a roadmap to nearly replicate my team. Jimmy Graham, Julio Jones, Victor Cruz in the first 3 rounds. Done. Then Lamar Miller and Daryl Richardson in the 4th and 5th.

And then in round 6, moments before his IR inducing injury, Andre Brown. Of course.

If there is one thing in fantasy that might be worse than having your dynasty team stolen from you by a morally defective commissioner, it is drafting a player and having him suffer a serious injury within minutes. And I’m not kidding, we’re literally talking minutes.
 
Note to self: Don’t draft while games are being played ever again.

I tried to build two diversified redraft teams this year, but one of the few players that ended up on both teams? Yep. That’s what Brown can do for you.

Break out the party balloons, I’m loving me some 2013 fantasy football! Hell yes! And once again, another period of mourning. And we haven’t even kicked off yet.

Oh I had balls. I didn’t follow the crowd and spend the first 3 rounds of the draft on the RB treadmill. No. I had a plan. Blown all to hell. And yet, every year I still look forward to this. Mind-boggling.

Still though, Brown owners notched a bargain compared to the fate suffered by those that drafted David Wilson, and got roughly the same points for the first three weeks as I got from Brown as he sat on my bench. That’s just torture. Brown was like getting smashed by a piano. Wilson is like getting squeezed in a vice.

The only thing in fantasy football worse than having your dynasty team ripped by a sociopath dog turd of a commissioner, or drafting a player and having him get whacked moments later, is finding out your hunch about said player being a value pick was probably dead on. Well, aside from the fact that his leg is in a cast.

But this is fantasy football. We all lose players. Is it any better to lose your guy in week one or two, rather than 5 minutes after you draft him? No. I had the first jump on “plan B.” So if you really stand back and look at the situation, I’m really one lucky son of a MFC. (my former commissioner). I shouldn’t complain at all. No complaints. What? Me worry?

I was just the first casualty of the running back position. Others have followed me into the abyss. Many of you have joined me. Comfy? Everybody have those bye weeks covered? Everybody drafted running backs. Running backs. Running backs, and more running backs. Still, nobody has any running backs. Marcel Reece, come on down! You are next contestant on “Save My Season!“

I just had a clever thought. No seriously. Drafting running backs is like drinking ocean water. Oh yeah, that quenches your thirst for a minute. You got your throat wet. But now you are feeling queasy. Your vision blurs, and your breath is short as your trembling hands press send on the blind bid for Marcel Reece. Love them running backs. Yes sir.

Media Stuff

A few years ago I remember racking up Scott Van Pelt for racking up fantasy players on his radio show. Some rant about us being “geeks” or “losers” or something of the sort. He despised the whole notion. But lo’ and behold before the season started, I heard him admit to being hooked on mock drafts in anticipation of his real drafts. Huh? I guess the tide finally washes over all that stand near it. Welcome aboard SVP. Enjoy your stay here in Loserville.

Ray Lewis joined an already crowded cast at ESPN Countdown. But hey, they let everybody on somewhere. Housh and Tomlinson found a paycheck at NFL network, and both those guys make Lewis look like the second coming of Tom Jackson. I guess I just figured Ray-Ray, being such a spiritual and deeply religious man would have taken a different path on the day of the Sabbath, now that his playing days are over. But nope, there he is. On my TV with his spray painted hair saying words. Inspirational indeed. Truly blessed are we.

All my favorite players end up on TV. Rodney Harrison. Keyshawn Johnson. Warren Sapp. I hope Ndamukong Suh doesn’t play much longer. I can’t wait to listen to him say words all Sunday morning too. Perhaps Ray-Ray can petition the Lord to take me sometime just before Johnny Manziel scores an analyst gig.

What I just can’t figure out is how the TV folks have missed the boat on Bill Romanowski. He is just as despised as anybody else. Why aren’t we hearing his words of wisdom? I have heard him speak. And I am reasonably sure he can read a teleprompter. What? Did he get some face tats or something? I don’t get it. I mean, yeah, he slobbers and drools a bit when he talks, but Michael Irvin has been working “wet” for years. Big deal! What gives?

Misery Index

10a)  49ers: Yeah. We’ve all been young and dumb. I spent the occasional night at the age of 23 drinking and smoking all night, knowing I had to go to work the next day. Of course my job was menial, as was the pay and consequences if I was “a little off.” I didn’t have the hopes and dreams of a million followers hinging on my success. The way the Colts ran these guys ragged on Sunday I have to wonder if the whole team hasn’t gone “North Dallas Forty” on us.

10) Browns:  So apparently the whole problem revolved around the starting QB and RB. Once you Weeden those guys out, it’s full steam ahead. Uh huh. Here is a business tip. Announcing you have a huge stiffie for a pending free agent probably isn’t the most solid move from a bargaining position standpoint. What next? Show up at Tate’s house in a Brinks truck, holding a brown and orange colored boom box over your head belting out “You’re The One That I Want?”

9) Titans:  Did you see that play where Kenny Britt went airborne and landed on his head? I was thinking to myself, “Good thing he didn’t land on a body part he actually uses.” I’m anxiously awaiting his run as a TV analyst.

8)  Vikings:  When you get your ass kicked at your place by a team that just threw in the towel on the season, I guess that puts you in your place, which is right about here.

7) Eagles:  Philly fans are widely considered the most boorish in all the NFL. The national media loves to remind us how they threw snowballs at Santa Claus, and cheered while Michael Irvin lay injured on the turf. All true. But they showed remarkable class and restraint upon the return of Andy Reid and Donovan McNabb. Of course, after 8-10 beverages, and a piss-poor showing from the Eagles “defense” they instead turned on one another in a series of stadium fights. And the legend grows. But let’s get real. These fans are not even in the same league as soccer hooligans. The problem with soccer is that there are long periods between scores. Too much time to fall prey to the lure of busting someone’s face, or filling a condom with urine. Philly fans will never have that much down-time with this defense that Chip Kelly apparently thought he wouldn’t need.

6) Panthers:  Go win a game when the other team actually shows up and get back to me.

5) Buccaneers:  The 0-3 start is depressing, yet not surprising. The really tragic news out of Tampa was the revelation that the cream sickle throw-backs are no more due to the league’s new safety regs. Man. Is there anything we love that lawyers haven’t screwed us out of yet? What next? Cheerleader camel toe?

4) Redskins:  You know what? I really should tread lightly here. I mean, we had this soap opera all summer, for the second coming of the savior of the franchise. And the faithful were in such a frenzy. And they believed, oh yes they believed. And it came to pass, that the savior and his disinterested minions handed out to each, one giant brown egg on every Sabbath. And it was not good. 

3) Steelers:   A few weeks ago I saw a woman I dated briefly a long, long time ago. I barely recognized her. I was once again struck by how eventually, time ravages all beautiful creatures. I immediately wished I hadn’t seen her. I wanted to remember her as she was. Steelers fans can probably relate.

2)  Giants:  Considering this team was never viewed during the preseason as the biggest dung pile on cleats this side of the Mississippi, they probably deserve to be number one this week. I mean, the Jags hung 17 on Seattle. They are still trying. They give the appearance of giving a crap. Of having a clue. I can tell they want to win. They just suck too much to pull it off. It is only for the shred of hope that you are just playing possum, as has been your M.O. in recent years that I give you the tiniest benefit of a doubt.
  
1)  Jaguars: It is emasculating as a franchise to be tagged a nearly 3 touchdown underdog. But it must be an absolute scrotum scraper to prove it justified.