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Archive for the ‘Fantasy Life’ Category

Ah, the season is so young, and our Yahoo fantasy baseball stats are already screwed up. As everyone knows, the Phillies and Braves enjoyed a spirited game last night that ended when my little combustible Mikey Gonzalez struck out my free-swinging Raul Ibanez to end a 4-1 Braves victory.

Stats in a Yahoo-league are usually accrued and applied to teams by 6am the next morning. But this is Yahoo, the same people who bring you the delightfully malfunctioning STATTRACKER, a device single-handedly responsible for Jeff Mathis’ incredible 20 RBI game last season.

So, once again, thank you Yahoo for having free leagues. Just quit it with the, “Oh, there was a game last night? Stats? What are those?” shenanigans.

Games today! Woo hoo! KONERKO!

FACIAL HAIR

FACIAL HAIR

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Then you should go right ahead and visit this site, where a Barry Zito calculator will tell you how long you’ll have to work at your current profession to reach the zenith that is Barry’s 126 million dollar contract. I’d tell you my results, but a debilitating bout of depression and existential angst prevents me from doing so.

What in the hell in this bastard of a world could cheer me up? How about a picture of a screaming manager that is completely out of context with anything? Okay.

What’s wonderful about this picture? It looks as if Dusty Baker is being attacked by a swarm of invisible bees! What’s more, the umpire seems to have found a remedy to the crisis: By the angle of his leg kick, I think he’s decided to side-arm his scorecard directly in Dusty’s face. Awesome!!!

In other news, Slanch’s team is sticking to the top spot, obviously aided by a weak Monday schedule and a propensity to start his pitchers no matter what. What else could explain his gaudy KO numbers? How about the fact that he’s 50 IP over the limit already. Granted he can easily trade away one of his over-achievers (Olsen, Wolf, Maddux) or shitbag/strikeout maestro Chad Billingsely for some hitting, but whatevs.

I’m feeling for Eick right now. When I joined this league a bunch of years ago, he took the crown. Since then he hasn’t come even close to doing anything. From the start, we tried to prepare him mentally for such disappointment. He’s been in the cellar for quite some time now, and the way I see it, the best he’ll finish is 10th. So, if you have any down-time, check out his blog. At least he can watch his non-baseball hits grow.

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You’ve read all of the tired columns by fantasy sportswriters talking about how their wives/girlfriends/pets/inanimate objects HATE fantasy sports. Well, I’ll try to spice things up by, you know, doing the same thing. While one might argue that I am in fact “not spicing it up,” I’d like you to reflect on the idea of “spicing anything up.” It kind of makes me angrier everytime I type it.

Anyways, I do indeed have a girlfriend, and yes, we live together. To spice everything up to a point once though impossible in the realm of spiciness, she doesn’t relegate me to the basement and call me an asshole for my love of fantasy. We don’t have a basement, so no spice there. Presently, she is travelling in India, so no doubt we keep in contact over the phone. How about a conversation we had over the phone the other day, in shortened form.

Me: Holy crap I miss you.

GF: Yeah, me too? How’s your fantasy team doing?

Me: What?

GF: Your fantasy team? You know, the thing you won’t shut up about, ever?

Me: Who are you? Please put my girlfriend on the phone.

GF: I really am worried about how Edwin Encarnacion will pan out this…cough (voice lowers) this year.

Me: Hey, you’re not my girlfriend! Who in the name of all things spicy is this?!

GF: Sorry, it’s me, Pedro.

Me: Pedro Martinez?

GF: No, just Feliz. Please don’t drop me, my numbers will pick up…(I hang up)

All spiciness aside, my girlfriend is as tolerant as you can imagine. This takes into account the following:

1. I am aware of my shallow nature
2. In no way do I view my league as a bunch of ultra-hip-better-than-you dudes. We are all pathetic, equally (besides Eick).
3. If it ever came down to it, I would choose not severing a body part over fantasy baseball (unless the scenario was brought up in the movie Four Rooms, and Quentin Tarantino is going to chop my finger off)

So yeah, she’s down, but I think she wishes I studied for my GRE’s more than I tried to project Eric Brunlett’s 2008 numbers if he played all of his games on the Moon.

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