League of Babies Week 7 Newsletter
Well, well, well. Look who’s returned. Three weeks ago you wrote a mediocre impersonation piece after the first presidential debate and tried to capitalize on a topical current event. Unfortunately, writing character impersonations comes about as easy to you as praising the high lord Satan comes to the Pope on Easter Sunday. So what’s your excuse? Why the two week absence? Too sad about being a total loser in fantasy football? Upset your zero-RB strat failed you almost as much as your strategy of creepily instant messaging girls late at night in middle school failed to score you any hot dates? Terrified you may have overreacted and overpaid by trading Jordy and Latavius Murray for what amounts to a two week rental of the C.Mike hype train before it crashes into Thomas Rawls station, destination Seahawks promised land, and Jerick McKinnon, who is a lot shittier than Adrian “Adrian “All Day” Peterson” Peterson?
You’re a little baby back bitch, you know that June? All this talk, all this purported knowledge, and what do you have to show for it? Who gave you supreme lordship over this league? Who gave you your membership card to the league of emotionally/anecdotally driven online sports analysts, and why the fuck do you want such a membership anyway? Everyone knows the new hot take these days belongs to the “I always say both sides of anything are shitty to avoid making any intellectual commitments” club. Put another way, there are two kinds of people in this world: Fernando Rodney’s, and Felix Hernandez’s. Rodney’s, they start hot. They get flashy and they get cocky, but spend enough time with them and eventually they’ll disappoint you so bad you don’t want to hear their god forsaken names ever again. A Fernando Rodney will take you out to a nice dinner, maybe the best dinner and dessert you’ve ever had in your life. But afterwards, when they try to sneak a kiss before you leave, you smell their major case of hallitosis and you end up throwing up a bit in your mouth. And no matter how hard you try to respond to their texts and calls, no matter how hard you try to focus on the expensive wine or extravagant setting, all you can think of is the taste of your seafood pasta sliding up your esophugus, and soon afterwards you delete their number and dread going back to work on Monday, since you have a coworker named Rodney, and the Lord have mercy if you have to relive experiencing your biley undercurrent ever again. Rodney’s finish limp and battered and covered in shit, if they finish at all.
Hernandez’s on the other hand, go through the struggle that is existence. They fight, and combine their seemingly endless font of talent and opportunity and produce results that everyone can see are amazing. If you walk down the street and somehow pass a Felix Hernandez, you can actually see how talented and dedicated to their work they are. If you believe in aura’s and energy fields, a Felix Hernandez has an aura that reminds you of your mother, and it probably blinds you with guilt at your feeble nature in comparison. And yet, still, they struggle. Their hands know not creation, only destruction, as they endlessly fight through the existential torment of building a tower with sand. A Felix Hernandez will pour their life and soul and blood and money and time into their craft, only to see it turn into a cheesy acoustic guitar song by Kansas. Hernandez’s are exploited. They constantly struggle with the eternal questions: does anything I do have any lasting impact? Does my work have any longevity? Do I matter? No matter how dedicated, how passionate, how skilled a Felix Hernandez may be, the reality is that we all die and the eventual entropic heat death of the universe means who cares about how many wasted seasons you pitched for the goddamn Seattle motherfucking Mariners.
The whole point of that exposition is to say this: You’re a Fernando Rodney, June. Eat shit.
Man fuck you, Straw Man.
How about instead, we talk about this? I missed two weeks of newsletters because I was coming out to my parents about being transgender, and then I came out to the motherfuckin’ world. You try taking that one-two punch and seeing how upright you’re standing.
How about instead we talk about how my first round pick of Odell Beckham Jr. finally paid off and my week 1 free agency acquisition of Spencer Ware is going to be the take of a lifetime? How about we talk about how excellent my win over The Adverb Nouns was, and that was with Cameron Meridith on the bench! How about we talk about how excellent my life is, Mr. Straw Man, now that I’m out to the world, and more importantly, now that I’ve secured my second win of the season. You’re not even real, and at least Fernando Rodney has a very real paycheck to offset the hate mail he must still be getting from the 206 after his final year in Seattle. How about we talk about how right I was about…okay before I get too carried away with this thought, I’m saving the “what I was right/wrong about” article until the halfway point of the season, and also I was right about like seriously 2 things all season so we all know that part of the article is going to be pretty sort.
Anyway, straw man, I reject your assertion that I am a “baby back bitch”. Let’s get on with the news.
First, can we talk about this Jets team? Holy shit if you’re a Matt Forte owner (Campbell) you must be weeping if you are watching these games. I know everyone who watches literally anything loves to be a backseat viewer, but I have to ask. How are you not using Forte, who has built his entire career on being an exceptional pass-catching dual threat back, in any of these short pass plays when you’re behind? I get it, Bilal Powell is the future or something (spoiler alert: he’s not), but Forte ain’t getting any younger, why isn’t Fitzpatrick throwing any of these passes out to him while he’s still able to run forwards?
Or maybe, the problem there is the assumption that Ryan Fitzpatrick could hit a broadside of a barn if a broadside of a barn walked up to him and said, “Hey asshole, hit me! I’m a broadside of a barn!” Fitzmagic has regressed to Fitztragic. He hasn’t thrown a touchdown in the second half of a single game this year, and he has the 26th ranked pass rating of all active starting quarterbacks, out of 32. For all team WR1’s, The New York Jet’s own Brandon Marshall is the only one who isn’t catching more than half of his targets. I’m sure some of those are BMarsh’s fault, but if you’ve watched any of these Jet’s games, which I’m hoping you’re not doing because you could have more fun watching your own shit dissolve in the toilet, you’ll know that more often than not, it’s Fitz telegraphing and under/over-throwing that’s creating such efficiency problems. Last year the Jets were an astonishing 10–7 using the “feed Marshall until he pukes” strategy, but this year Fitz looks like he did too much LSD and doesn’t know where he is amidst the strawberry fields forever. His benching for perennial “how does he have this job?”-man Geno Smith this past week adds insult to injury. With Eric Decker being laid to rest, possibly past the start of next season, you have to wonder how the Jets are going to salvage any value for their team, which spells hard times for all Jets players.
Second, we should talk about this Pittsburg/Miami game. Big Ben came tumbling down this week, making this another season where the Steelers will have to go without the Ben/Antonio Brown connection for an extended duration of time. Backup quarterback Landry Jones will have another go, but the expectation is Antonio Brown’s ceiling will suffer because of this. Landry started just one game in 2015, on week 7, in which he made 16 completions on 29 attempts. Antonio Brown finished the day with 6 catches for 124 yards and no touchdowns, which would be 15.4 points in our league. Of course, this is much too small a sample size to make any conclusions, but anecdotally, it certainly seems Brown and Big Ben’s chemistry is unparalleled. Antonio Brown owners shudder when they think of the abysmal stretch that Michael Vick started in 2015 where Antonio Brown seemed borderline unstartable, but only time will tell what Landry Jones and Brown can do here. It is important to note that Roethlisberger’s injury is not season ending, and he will be back in a few weeks. The Steelers may need to rely on Le’Veon Bell more in the coming weeks, but last week’s game in Miami showed that gameflow might prohibit that. The Steeler’s defense utterly collapsed on Sunday, making Jay Ajayi, who started this season on the bench because of his bad attitude, look like a superstar out of nowhere. For the 10 owners in the entire fantasy football world who started him (including Nate!!), his performance was thrilling, but most people’s expectations going forward are still quite low, as he has never looked very good until this point. Still, we all know that Arian Foster loves that injury report, so his future usage as an every down back might be more a question of when rather than if, especially now that coach Gase has renounced his earlier strategy of the 4 person committee nightmare.
Speaking of Adam Gase, can we talk about how much of a fraud he is? They actually played very well on Sunday and looked like the team they probably always dreamed they could be if that offensive line could stay healthy, but I am mad salty about Arian Foster, who he later admitted was not totally healthy and was removed from the injury report because of his “leadership skills”. Fucking excuse me? The reason Foster was made active only to not see a single snap until halfway through the third quarter is because of his leadership skills? Are you prohibited from speaking when you’re on the bench? Foster was pretty ineffective last week since he apparently was actually still injured, and we already know the Dolphins have like an Uruk-Hai horde of eligible running backs waiting to come out and fuck around on the field like a bunch of imbeciles, because that’s literally what’s been happening while Foster has been injured until this week, so can someone explain again to me why he was taken off the injury report?
“But June,” I can already hear you saying, Straw Man. “You don’t have Arian Foster on your team! Allison does…” well let me just say that in my other league which I take very seriously, I was extremely hyped to pick up Foster off waivers as someone had dropped him, and he is definitely worth the roster space as a waiver wire add even if he only plays a handful of games, and now I’m beginning to think the owner who dropped him for a fucking kicker set me up with an extremely clever ruse and I feel very, very stupid.
Can we also talk about bye weeks? You all need to be switching players for bye weeks and injuries! You could be winning games if you didn’t have empty bench spots and players getting you 0’s because they’re vacationing in Cancun for the week! I know probably no one is taking fantasy football as seriously as I am, but the game is more fun when everyone is trying, minus perhaps Niki because she was way too far gone coming straight out of the draft. Even poor, poor Josh, at 1–5, can still make the playoffs on an outside chance. And that outside chance is pretty real considering the randomness of injuries and changes that can affect fantasy football.
Okay, I could talk about more bullshit, but I’m pretty tired and this needs to get posted soon. Good to be back in the swing of fantasy football bullshit, everyone. Best of luck to you all. Unless you’re playing me.