A funny thing happened on the way to the gallows. I have spent an undue amount of time whining in this column about my underachieving redraft teams, declaring them both dead in the past weeks, verbally thrashing them for being the losers they were. Actually, what a loser I was.
But I got an interesting surprise on Sunday. My 1-5 team that had lost by .4 points in week 6 was the benefactor of a scoring change while I was busy ignoring it. and unbeknownst to me, had been awarded a win instead. So the team was actually 2-4 going into Sunday, and lo and behold pulled out a victory in week 7 pushing the record to 3-4. I hadn’t even noticed the scoring change until after the Sunday games were over. It is a landslide move from 1-5 to 3-4.
So my formerly flat line team is resurrected and back in the hunt. Kind of. And my 3-3 team finally kicked the 0-3 losing streak and notched a close win on Sunday at the expense of one of my readers. Sorry about that bud. But a big thanks to Darren Sproles and Sean Payton for mercilessly repeatedly violating the Colts defense on national television.
Hope. Hope crushed. An emotional burying of my teams. And then unexpected resurrection. Granted, I still have a big mountain to climb in both leagues, but hope has returned. So now I have the opportunity to suffer a second round of gut-wrenching funerals this season. Hey, I’m a gamer. Sign me up!
The old girlfriend shows up second button undone and no bra. And suddenly she isn’t such a loser bitch any more. Men are such suckers.
And the dynasty and keeper teams won as well. Mike Wallace and Jimmy Graham are worth their weight in gold. It was a clean sweep of wins on Sunday. On a day where there was so much misery in fantasy circles in general I remained above the fray. How in the hell did that happen? I’ll tell you how. Tim Tebow.
You see friends, I have traveled down that road of degradation. I have seen the pain and sorrow that evil brings to people's lives. I have felt the icy grip of the dark master, and been a prisoner of his ghastly deeds. I have suffered horrors in the kingdom of gridiron I dare not speak of.
But on this Sunday I put my trust in the chosen one. I followed the masses of enlightened ones to the ticket window and bet a collection plate full of money on the chosen one.
Oh. I was tested. I watched the Broncos flounder and flop about like the very fish they trying to vanquish. The chosen one was beaten, stoned and scorned. A mere mortal’s will would have crumbled. When halftime arrived I was tempted with a pick ‘em second half line. But no, I still believed. My faith held strong. There would be one set of footprints to the end of this game.
Oh yea, in the darkest hour (late in the 4th quarter) I dropped to my knees and cried out, “Timmy, have you forsaken me? How shall I buy groceries next week?
Where art thou Tebow?” And soon the answer was known. One set of footprints. All the way to the ticket window. Thank you Jesus. Thank you Lord. I am considering using some of those winnings to buy a Tebow jersey which will become my official “casino-gear.” A desperate ploy of a degenerate, or a stroke of other-worldly genius?
Don’t doubt what I am saying brothers and sisters. I didn’t face Arian Foster or Drew Brees, and I ended up 4-0 on a day when I started the likes of Earnest Graham, Damian Williams, Vincent Jackson, Eric Decker, Maurice Morris, Reggie Bush and Mohammad freaking Massoqui.
I survived a “Falcons connection” disaster when Matt Ryan got his ankle stomped on bent in a gruesome fashion yet not broketh. My wife survived the loud stream of expletives I yelled when I saw it and immediately declared my season over, while simultaneously successfully holding down an egg sandwich.
I had no choice due to byes but to start Antonio Brown for the first time, on the first week he was fantasy relevant.
I started Antonio freaking Gates and he made it healthy through an entire game while scoring fantasy points.
My opponent who has been a typically active owner for a team in contention inexplicably forgot to acquire a replacement bye week defense.
Yes Al Michaels, I do believe in miracles.
Brothers and sisters the football Gods have grabbed me by the hand in my darkest hour and they are a gonna drag me kicking and screaming to salvation in the promised land. Let me hear hallelujah! Can I hear it again?
And all ya have to do brothers. All you have to do and sisters. Is just believe in the Tebow.
I’ll tell you what I really believe in, and that is good refereeing. I happened to be watching that Chargers Jets game and I can tell you that I was stunned when I watched the refs march the Jets down the field on phantom penalties. Nice job stripes. Almost touching someone is now an interference penalty. Got it. Even the mighty Tebow couldn’t shield me from those hallucinating zebra's.
I heard all the ESPN stuff about the woman referee coming up the ladder. Hell, get her up here, she couldn’t be any worse than those bozo’s. No way. Stunningly bad calls. Note to self: Don’t bet any games played in New Jersey or officiated by Mike Carey. I don’t keep track, but I’m pretty sure his crew has gang-raped my wallet more than the rest over the years. If that crew ends up anywhere near the playoffs the league has some serious issues in the area of performance grades. I give that crew a big FU. Hopefully when the bath salt ban takes effect those guys can pull it together.
That being said, the Chargers still should have won the game and they didn’t. So here’s the thing. I’m officially off the band-wagon. It’s been fun, but you guys are like a trip down the yellow brick road. You’ve got no heart, no courage, and no brains. Me and Toto are checking out.
Philip Rivers looks like an expensive version of Tim Tebow right now, sans the running ability. Their passing numbers were very similar. Except Tebow won. Rivers threw the last 4th down pass out of bounds with time running out. OUT OF FREAKING BOUNDS. Do you know how many good things can happen when you throw a ball 10 yards out of bounds? Zero.
Throwing the ball in the field of play on the last play is all upside. It is the only choice. Out of bounds isn’t even an option. A Revis interception is no worse than an incompletion when you are 4th and dying. Is this concept too confusing Mr. Rivers? Sheesh! And I spent the pre-season pimping this guy. MVP? Seriously? I guess so if MVP stands for most violent penetration, because that is what Rivers does to me every time I put him in the lineup.
Bonehead play of the week: Here is a stunning development. I wrote the entire column up to this point under the assumption that Ray Rice would get me the 13+ points I needed to sew up that victory, make me 3-4 and actually put me back in the hunt. 11 points later in an unforgivable primetime sleepwalk by the Ravens, and my entire column is now built on a lie. And it is late Monday night as I write this and I am thinking I am screwed. Too late for a re-write. However, you have to admit, that is one monster bonehead play. And while the column may now be defective, bordering on total BS, the Bonehead Play of the Week which looked in peril was saved. And yeah. I’m going to give this whole Tebow thing a re-think after all. I mean, I just poked some good natured fun at him and I was immediately struck down. Scary. Smart-ass heretic burns in fantasy hell, film at eleven.
10) Raiders: Al may be gone, but his spirit and his will live on. The Palmer trade was exactly the kind of deal Al would have made. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t scribbled on notepads he left behind. Or even included in his will. So, welcome to the Raiders Carson. You were named the starter before you thumbed through the playbook the first time even though you hadn’t taken the field in almost a year. The coach unwittingly undermined the confidence of the one QB on the roster that actually knew how to run the offense, then afterward realized that Palmer breathing was not all that would be necessary to start him. Then, when Boller stunk it up as one might have predicted you were thrown to the wolves after halftime down 21 points and with your stud running back out of the game. The good news is you weren’t killed, and it will probably only take another year of beat-downs like this before you realize you changed uniforms but are still on the same team you just retired from. The Raiders will be haunted for the next decade when they realize they could have traded for the rights to Andrew Luck for probably just a bit more than they paid for Palmer. But Al would have wanted it that way…
9) Broncos: Okay, all fun aside. That was seriously 55 minutes of the worst football in the history of the league. I mean, I’m a Chiefs fan and I actually felt pity for the Broncos. Look, I know all Tebow does is win games. Fine. Could you put in Orton for the first 55 minutes of every game. It is a much more palatable brand of “ugly” than Tebow provides and may allow other players on the team besides Tebow the ability to score fantasy points. Because as long as Tebow is in there? This place is a fantasy cemetery.
8) Eagles: Hey the Eagles actually didn’t look too bad on Sunday. As a matter of fact, that was the best they have looked all season. No doubt about it. Nicely done guys.
7) Seahawks: That game against the Browns was one of the most gruesome displays of “football” I have ever seen. I mean, you replace either of those teams with the ‘76 Buccaneers at halftime and nobody notices a thing. Well, other than the overall 50% loss of body mass across the board and all the gray hair. “Wow, That was one tough halftime!” Hey, guess what? The 49ers stole the division while you were dressed up for Halloween as the ’76 Buccaneers. Maybe that wacky Pete Carroll will motivate the team by T-P’ing everybody’s house and then reveal his guilt for the practical joke during the pre-game speech. Man that schtick would have killed at USC.
6) Ravens: Hey, I’m sorry, but when you play one of your worst games in franchise history (no small feat) against a limp team like the Jags, and if front of a horrified national television audience I have no choice but to reward your prime time defecation proclamation. I only wonder how long it will take the Ravens to realize what the Steelers already seem to know. The Ravens will never win a championship with Joe Flacco. Their defense is simply not good enough to overcome the ineptitude of Flacco and the offense. Especially against a powerhouse like the Jaguars.
5) Cardinals: I have to admit, I thought these guys might show some life against an unsuspecting Steelers team, but instead they got 4 quarters of the Gaddafi treatment. Thanks for coming.
4) Vikings: If you can’t beat ‘em, kick ‘em in the crotch? I mean, really? A grape-crusher? With spikes on? Ya’ know what? There are certain things men don’t do to other men. For instance, it is in poor taste to tell a man the details of your sexual exploits with his sister. You never hook up with your friends ex-girlfriend unless you are sure he is cool with it. You never ask another dude about his feelings. You always give up the apartment, or occupy the ugly friend if your roommate has a chance to get laid. But possibly the biggest guy rule of all is you don’t go around kicking other guys in the nuts. The only exceptions are if you are obviously about to get your ass kicked by somebody twice your size, stabbed or shot otherwise. What is this, third freaking grade recess?
3) Rams: Giving up junk-time touchdowns are what the Cowboys do. Yet the Rams stood there on the one yard line like a drunk that couldn’t jam the key in the lock with 4 tries. Don’t laugh at these kinds of people. They need help.
2) Colts: Apparently Sean Payton gets even ornerier when he has a busted up leg and sits up in the booth. And the Colts couldn’t do a damn thing about it. This is way deeper than Peyton Manning. This is a team in rapid decay. And I fear the upcoming chill of winter will not be sufficient to keep down the stench emitting from this pile of dead ponies.
1) Dolphins: There is something special happening here. Losing games is losing games, but the Dolphins yanking defeat from the grasp of victory against of the Denver Tebows was a work of art. Much like one of those still-life nightmares they used to show before the old Night Gallery, or maybe more like a Marilyn Manson complete with the androgyny. Yeah, more like that.