So as the Fantasy Football enters the postseason time for most people, and ends for others, I would like to take this time to ask one simple question:
Why the hell do I do this to myself every year?
You see, this year I missed making the playoffs in the two leagues I am in (I know, only 2 leagues right, some out there in like 20 a year) by literally the narrowest of margins, and it just breaks my heart. You fret and fuss and worry all season, managing your team, making roster moves, trades, pickups, for months. And for what? To have your best players get hurt or decide in the game you REALLY need them that they decide that they don't want to play.
F you Reggie Wayne. F you hard.
Or perhaps you were on the other side of the coin, like I was in week one of the season. There is nothing like going against a team that has scrubs, and those scrubs for that week, and that week only, decide that they are the greatest NFL players of all time.
Case in point, in Week 1 I went against some tight end from Seattle, who put up 21 points. 21 points. In a single game. I lost that matchup by like 8 points. I missed the playoffs by one game. You do the math. For the record, that guy didnt score 21 points *combined* the entire rest of the season.
Sigh.
I am going to let you in on a secret. Fantasy football has a small amount of skill involved, but really not that much. It's a whole lotta lotta lotta luck. Now you might say "but you have to know who to pick!" Oh really? Pretty sure I can pick up any one of the 1000 fantasy football magazines, go by their lists, and do just fine. You have to be lucky in that your players A.) don't get hurt and b.) actually remember how to play. Feh.
With that, I close out my fantasy football season (mercifully) and can now relax and not worry about every single minute of every single game today and tomorrow night. I actually won't have to stay up late on Sunday and Monday night, praying for and against certain players. In a way it's very liberating, like Cosmo Kramer slapping his money down on the table and yelling "I'm Out!" in the episode called The Contest. He slept like a baby that night while the others were miserable.
Enjoy your postseasons you bastards, and enjoy the stress levels, the tension, and being miserable. For as Kramer said:
I'm Out!
Comments? Feedback? Join in on the Bitching?
Email irishboon@aol.com and I will post all comments the following week.
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Take your pick ladies, these are true men here.
These are funny, and very, very true
And there is always some a-hole who would draft the Hulk's backup RB.
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