As the New York Jets were on a bye this past week, I’m going to use this space to talk briefly about my other team. That is, my fantasy football team, which is having a season much like many predicted the Jets would have.
Let’s put things in perspective: Last year, I was the champion, okay? Just let that sink in a moment; the champion. They gave me a trophy to commemorate it. They raised a banner to the rafters of the Internet in my honor, for god’s sake. The perseverance and triumphs of my team, Robert MINEKRAFT, went down in history among some of the all-time greats. Now look at me. My team, Gold Diggers of 2013, is 2-8 and in dead last.
I feel I need to explain the name here. If not immediately clear, Gold Diggers of 2013 is a take on the 1933 musical “Gold Diggers of 1933” (it features the song “We’re in the Money,” among others.) Why name my team something so basic as replacing a number in the title of some other form of media? Well, a lot of players got big contracts this year (which, for those keeping score, is 2013) that they may or may not have deserved. Hence, gold diggers. So, I took an old poster for the movie and replaced all the actor’s heads (Joan Blondell got a pass,) with the heads of some of the NFL’s biggest gold diggers. The end result was a logo that will be remembered for years to come. A clever and relevant team name? Check. A team logo to end all team logos? Check. You would think this team would be good to go, ready to take me on a second consecutive championship run.
Unfortunately, this team has been more of a group of bronze diggers, except they’re grabbing at something severely lesser than bronze, because they’re 2-8 and in dead last. I mean, things are bad. As it stands my team is third worst (in a ten team league) in total fantasy points scored. On their current six game losing streak, the Gold Diggers of 2013 are only averaging 77.8 points a game. Even when my team scores 103.5 points, it’s not enough to notch a win. And if that weren’t enough, it’s starting to affect my non-fantasy life. Hair is falling out of my head in chunks. I’m listening to Hawthorne Heights un-ironically. My girlfriend left me for her ex (though frankly, I can’t blame her; he’s got Calvin Johnson AND Drew Brees on his team.) I’ve even sunk as low as to start picking up guys like Dexter McCluster to start at wide receiver. Seriously, this is quite the tailspin.
But, as much as I want to blame my players and write nasty things to them on twitter for not playing at a level that help a guy they’ll never meet win a game that only has meaning to a small group of people, the weight of my team’s failures ultimately falls on my shoulders. I was the one who started Tavon Austin instead of Shane Vereen in Week One, who started Julian Edelman over Alshon Jeffrey in Week Five, who started Nick Foles/Mike Williams/Joseph Randle over Andrew Luck/Zac Stacy/Jacquizz Rodgers in Week Seven and… wait a minute, am I unlucky? Is… is that all this is? Oh, what a relief! For a minute there, I thought my whole life was falling apart because of fantasy football.