At the Beaumont Rehabilitation and Skilled Nursing Center outside Worcester, a dozen seniors have joined the league, and attendance in the common room on Sunday afternoons has doubled. But with the youngest GM being 77, it's unlikely they know their PPR from their DNR (do not resuscitate). Wait, let's try that joke again without the implied death: none of them drafted receivers because they're not aware that the forward pass is now legal.

Basically, the league scoring is a little simplified.

The seniors took turns drafting entire teams, and points are based on those teams' wins. Ed Wallace wanted the Patriots in the first round, but had to settle for the Bears, who are steadily cutting his life expectancy with every Jay Cutler pick.

Wallace likes to tease [Phyllis] Patterson, a former Natick resident, about her management of the Pats and promises to buy a red Cadillac with his league "winnings.''

Barbara King, 87, of Quincy said she joined the house league because football was her favorite professional sport. "Baseball is too slow,'' she said.

She monitors her teams - the Cincinnati Bengals, the Houston Texans, and the Cleveland Browns - with a teddy bear named "Champ'' on her lap.

What are the odds of the league being ruined by the young (read: late-70's) lady who doesn't know anything about football, but drafted the Saints and Colts because she liked their uniforms?

In A League Of Their Own [Boston Globe]

A helpful reader forwarded along this Craigslist posting, with no further comments. None were needed. I present it to you in its entirety.

We are looking for height-challenged female(s) (as in midget, dwarf, munchkin, little person, just don't know the correct non-offensive terminology) to help run our fantasy football draft. We will be 10 males in a suite at the Mirage drafting for four hours on August 29th starting sometime in the late afternoon.

Your duties will be to make sure none of us run out of frosty beverages, to keep track of players taken on an oversized draft board (step stool included), and to wrestle under a glass table while either partially clothed or not clothed at all (this is why we would prefer more than one of you). Bonus points if you know something about football, know how to mix drinks, and enjoy making sure everyone is having a good time. We promise we will not degrade you by using your head for a coaster, nor will we expect any special favors as we value professionalism over anything.

Last year when I posted this ad we received an offer from a female who simply had no legs, which I determined to be cheating. So please, only true little people apply.

If interested, please respond by Friday. And don't worry about bringing anything as we will supply beverages, glass table, and rainbow with pot of gold.

Yes, obviously it's a joke. But imagine you were invited to this draft; you'd be pretty psyched, wouldn't you?

Wanted: Height-Challenged Female(s) for Fantasy Football Draft - mm4ww [Craigslist]

Two brokers at Long Island's (of course) Intermarket Insurance Agency are offering fantasy football indemnity plans. Drop a little extra coin on the side and if one of your top draft picks goes down to injury in real life, you can recoup your league fees, transactions fees, and even the cost of the 15 fantasy football magazines you've been wallpapering your bedroom with for the last two months. Sure, your own health isn't even covered under ObamaCare yet, but this is way more vital to your well-being.

I'm not anti-fantasy sports. In the right hands, they can be a lot fun—but it's a gamble, not a retirement plan. If you're investing more money than you can afford to lose on the outcome of Peyton Manning's passing yardage, then you're probably in a little too deep. Step back and ask yourself if running a fake football team is too much for you to handle at this point in your life. Maybe you should stick to pick 'em games or electric football. Get yourself healthy and then we'll worry about Tom Brady, okay?

Fantasy Football Insurance: A New Kind of Pocket Protection Against NFL Injuries [Wall Street Journal]

* * * * *

No need to cash in your policy for today. That was pretty painless and I think we even learned something. KOGOD comes home tomorrow, but for now enjoy your evening ...

That's right, it's the second half of our fantasy football preview. Last time around, we handled the AFC. This time, we go through the NFC, team by team, skill player by skill player. We tried to cram as much useful information into one hour as we possibly could, and I think you'll agree that we did a decent job of it. Behrens knows his shit. He's like Matthew Berry, if Matthew Berry wasn't a douchebag I'd like to beat to death with a claw hammer.

Behrens also offer a Super Bowl prediction: Eagles over Chargers. I suspect he won't be alone on that front.

This week's Deadcast is available for your listening pleasure right here. You can also find the new Deadcast in the iTunes Music Store here. Next week's Deadcast will be a full NFL preview with the Mighty MJD. Got a question you want read over the air for next week? Send it to me here. Special thanks to Liberated Syndication for hosting us. Now sit back, relax, and listen to a blissfully dog-free podcast.

Besides those two fine metropolises, the mayors of Green Bay, Oakland, Orlando, Kansas City, Minneapolis, Tampa, Oklahoma City, Pittsburgh, San Francisco and one to be named later will go head-to-head with $15,000 going to the local sports program of the winner, with another $15,000 to the town with the greatest fan support.

Is anyone shocked that most of the mayors have no idea what they're doing?

[OKC Mayor Mick] Cornett, who was a sports broadcaster before running for city council, said he has played more fantasy baseball than fantasy football, but he plays against his wife, kids and the family dog in a fantasy football league each year.

"I'm a four-time champion of the Cornett Family Football League," Cornett said.

Cornett will turn to his 30-year-old son, Michael, to help him run the team.

Meanwhile in Tampa, Mayor Pam Iorio is planning to take as many Bucs as possible for her team. So you might as well count her out.

The scoring looks pretty standard, except only one point is deducted per interception, rather than the usual two. That's good news for Oakland Mayor Ron Dellums, should he decide to take JaMarcus Russell.

OKC's Mick Cornett in Fantasy Battle With Other Mayors [The Oklahoman]

Iorio Eyes Bucs Players for Fantasy Football Charity League [Tampa Tribune]

Mayoral Face-Off [Yahoo!]

It's your official Deadspin Fantasy Football Preview. We're going to split this up into two parts. This week, we'll do the AFC, and then we'll get back to the NFC before the season rolls around. Behrens and I have both gone through all the summer fantasy guides and drafts, sifted out the bullshit, and created a whole NEW round of speculative bullshit about the upcoming season.

What I wanted to do here was go through each team and just highlight some of the changes that have taken place since last season, and how that'll affect where players net out in terms of overall value. What I realized while Behrens and I talked was that, good fucking Christ, the running back situation around the league this year is horrific. It's as if every team is now coached by Mike Shanahan. There are potential three and four man committees all over the place (Jets, Pats, Broncos, Steelers, and more) that offer you no hope. You'll end up more weeks than not having to play someone like Sammy Morris, who will rush for 100 yards and 2 TD's one week, then fall off the face of the earth the next week. It's terrifying. I'm not even sure I want to play anymore.

Anyway, we threw as much information as we possibly could into a tidy 50-minute presentation (Did you know Dwayne Bowe showed up to camp fat? You do now). I think you'll find that, unless you're one of those Norman Chad type fuckwits who still thinks fantasy football is all nerdy (they must live in their parents basements!), it makes for solid entertainment. Also, Behrens hates Cedric Benson. Hates his guts. Thinks he rapes babies. It's true.

This week's Deadcast is available for your listening pleasure right here. You can also find the new Deadcast in the iTunes Music Store here. Next week's Deadcast guest is Daulerio. Got a question you want read over the air next week? Send it to me here. Special thanks to Liberated Syndication for hosting us. Now sit back, relax, and listen to Behrens' stupid fucking dog barking at the end of the show.

Yes, here's the breakdown for Fantasy Football: The Musical, which will apparently be part of the 2009 New York Musical Theater festival. Please alert any of your thespian friends to make this production magically come to life:

Breakdown for

Close | Print

NYMF 7/2 EPA - FANTASY FOOTBALL: THE MUSICAL?

Kristin Johnson
New York, NY

Other

September 1991, NYC. An unemployed stats geek & a small-time bookie realize that their passion for sports is keeping them from holding a job or a girlfriend. Joining forces, they set out to create the ultimate sports fan experience-and in the process, pull their lives together-in this "bromantic comedy" of a musical.

Matthew Berry:
Mid–late 20s. Strong comic lead. Sports-obsessed guy who doesn't have much going for him in the career department; covers his lack of success w/sarcasm. Tenor to G.

Bill Simmons:
Mid–late 20s. Very funny leading man. Runs small underground gambling ring, but is looking for the next big thing to take him over the top. Has a fair amount of hubris when it comes to being caught by the law. Tenor to A.

Sarah:
Mid–late 20s. Leading lady. Up-and-coming singer-songwriter who sadly allows her boyfriend Bill to care more about sports than about her. Beautiful singing voice. Must accompany herself on guitar.

Stoner:
Mid–late 20s. Classic frat bro in every sense. Drinks beer, smokes weed, watches football, goes bowling. Creates tons of "would you rather" sports hypotheticals. Manly singer w/high G.

Jacko:
Mid–late 20s. Most successful former-bro of the group. Has become a lawyer and a bit square since college, but still knows how to loosen his tie & have a good time. Baritone.

J-Bug:
Mid–late 20s. Matthew's odious former rival from the college newspaper. Used nepotism to get a sweet job in sports; lords it over everyone at every opportunity. Just a jerk. Baritone.

Cousin Sal:
Mid – late 20s. The bro who doesn't speak because he's fixated on the TV. Has priceless tacit reactions to other events around him. Sings an epic hero song. Must be able to play an instrument.

Rebecca:
Mid – late 20s. The possibly-psychotic Christian activist who drives Stoner insane with her chirpy and peppy love for all things religious. Delightful soprano with patter song.

Becky:
Late teens – early 20s. Rebecca's younger cousin who is a supposed clone of her elder kin, but has a secret wild side: her love of sports and bro-culture that she reveals as soon as the other girls leave the room. Delightful soprano with patter song.

Skip Berry:
Late teens – early 20s. Matthew's nerdy younger brother, whose wholesome geekiness gives way to angsty punk rock when he bursts into song. Punk rock voice. Must be able to rap.

Mrs. Berry:
Jewish, 45 – 55. Loving single mother who cares deeply about her two sons, but is struggling to make ends meet. Powerful, soulful voice.

Mr. Bulgewater:
45 – 55. Eccentric billionaire who loves the sound of his own voice. Amused at his own ridiculous success, and feels the right to interrupt anyone. Baritone.

Officer Kilborn:
40 – 50. Policeman who is looking for that one big case to send his career to the next level. Thinks he lives in the real life "CSI". No singing required.

You can't say the producers of this didn't do their homework. By casting Simmons as a tenor, they'll definitely be able to pick up his distinct nasality. I hope this production also explores the origins of the Talented Mr. Roto's (alleged!) latent sexual deviance.

Fantasy Football: The Musical? [Actor's Equity]

How would you like to lose by .01 in the last minute of the Sunday night game? And of course, it's Eli Manning's fault:

"After another completion, I hit the refresh button and saw I was up by 1.99 points," says Estok. "But just as I was about to call over my girlfriend to brag, Mr. Super Bowl MVP heaves up a pass along the left sideline... right into a Cowboy defender's hands."

.01. If you're any sort of fantasy geek, you are highly encouraged to read the story. It's halfway down the page.

*****

TONIGHT: I believe there's some sort of holiday shindiggery going on somewhere, so go do that. Or you can stay here and talk about the Colts/Jaguars game.

Thank you for your continued support of Dead4chan.

Drew's Jamboroo runs every Thursday afternoon. Buy his book here. Email Drew here. Read him at KSK here.

Dear Jesus,

I know I do not write to you very often. I’d like to say this is the case because I am humble before You, and I know that part of Your gift to Man was giving us the gift of being able to solve our own problems.

But this is not true. No, the fact is, Jesus, that I have not written to You in a good long time because I am lacking in faith. Because You, good sir, never fucking follow through on SHIT.

Remember when I was ten, and begged You to help make more popular in school? I was lying in my bed, crying my eyes out, beseeching You to at least give me one friend. ONE friend! I wasn’t even being greedy. I just wanted one person to like me. And frankly, I thought I had laid out my case fairly well. Those were REAL tears, Jesus. No faking of any kind. But did You help me out? Noooo. No, instead You decided to give me windburn on my lips. So my mom made me put white Lycell paste on them, instead of Chap Stick like a regular parent. Then every kid on the bus thought I had herpes. Thanks for that.

And remember the time I asked You for a better middle name than Schuyler? Again, You failed. God, that's one gay middle name.

And remember the time I asked You to help me stop eating? Again, I laid out my case in a very sincere and tearful manner. If Powerpoint had been around back then, surely I would have used it in my presentation. I even pledged to stop masturbating if you helped me out. Now, this was a lie, but only out of ignorance. I was still discovering the allure of my own body back then, so surely You cannot fault me for that. But did You help me? Noooooo. Instead, You helped food companies develop tasty new products by the hundreds. Like Pillsbury cinnamon rolls. Ever have those, Jesus? Holy fuck, they are good. Who needs Heaven?

And what about the time I asked You to help Katie Helmond fall in love with me? I loved her, man. I would have adored her and protected her like the precious newborn fawn she was. All I wanted was to hold her. To caress her and tell her how much she meant to me. Just one time. But You had to go and make her fall in love with Tim Schuster. YOU HEARTLESS FUCK! YOU KNOW DAMN WELL HE DIDN’T CARE FOR HER THE WAY I DID!

And let’s not even go into the ways You’ve let me down in the world of fantasy football. I asked you to give Jessica Simpson leprosy, and You failed. I asked You to kill Brandon Jacobs for me, and You failed. Eleven years, Jesus. Eleven years I have played this fucking idiotic role-playing game, and every year You have seen fit to fuck me over.

I am, once again, in my league championship game this year. Now, normally I would pray to You to help me win. I would pray to You that you give Marmalard the retard-level strength to throw another 3 TD passes this week. I would pray to You that Purple Jesus runs for 400 yards and 12 TD’s, even with Shiancoe’s cock blocking open running lanes.

I would also normally pray to You that the players representing my opponent, Dan Steinberg (whom Nazi Shark would remind you is a JEW), suffer from horrible travails. Perhaps you could use your Jesus heat vision to take them out. Perhaps Jason Witten could die from a sudden blood clot. Perhaps Deangelo Williams could go back to being Deangelo Williams.

Normally, I would pray to You for all those things. But I’m not gonna do that this year. Not when You’ve managed to let me down time and time again. I’m not here to pray to You today, Jesus. I’m here to tell You I don’t need to pray to you anymore. I don’t need You. I’m my own man now, Jesus. And I got here today not because of Your divine providence, but because I am a fucking badass and a half. You didn’t draft Anquan Boldin for me. THAT MOVE WAS ALL DREW.

If You couldn’t be bothered to help me when I needed you most, I say FUCK YOU JESUS. I DO IT MYSELF.

YEEEAAARGH!!!!!

The Games

All games in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms.

Five Throwgasms

Steelers at Ravens: God damn, Mike Tomlin is one cool motherfucker. I half expect the guy to moonlight as a bassist for the Robert Cray Band. I’ve seen me some stark contrasts in my day, but seeing Mike Tomlin rock a puffy jacket vs. seeing Wade Phillips rock a puffy jacket has to rank somewhere near the top. Tomlin looked like a member of the new guard of NFL coaching royalty. Phillips looked like he had arrived at an Arby’s juuust after it closed for the night.

Broncos at Panthers
Giants at Cowboys

Four Throwgasms

Vikings at Cardinals: If you haven’t been following the StarCaps case of late (and you’d have no reason to if you weren’t a fan of the Saints or Vikings), you should still know the general outline of the story. A number of players took a supplement that contained a banned substance: Bumetanide. BUT this substance wasn’t listed on the label. Not only that, the NFL knew that the supplement contained Bumetanide, but failed to warn the player’s union or the players themselves.

Yet, the league still wants to suspend Kevin Williams and company anyway, claiming they are responsible for what they put in their bodies. So, by the NFL’s logic, if some crazy asshole decided to sprinkle cocaine in cans of Spaghetti-O’s (a move I recommend), and every player who ate it then tested positive for coke as a result, that would warrant a suspension and losing a quarter of their yearly salary.

I know this argument gets a little shady because we’re dealing with supplements, and God only knows what they put in GNC Beef Gainer 75000 (BEEFCAKE!!!!!). And I’m clearly biased here due to my homerism for the Vikings (and for Pat Williams, who fucking rules). But give me a fucking break.

This is as dumb as Stern suspending Amare Stoudemire for stepping one foot onto the court a couple years back. Hey Goodell: I hope that you get sued, and that you fucking lose. Besides, the Vikings don’t need suspensions to choke away their division lead. Let them earn that chokejob on their own, the way they always do.

Bucs at Falcons:From Ufford comes the comedic gold mine that is the Inside Lacrosse 2009 All Name Team. You think Andrew Schuyler Magary is an elitist fuckwad name? It's got NOTHING on Ridge Flick or Thayer Damm. No Carson Carter or Carter Carson though, which disappoints me.

Three Throwgasms

Saints at Bears: I quite enjoy the NFL Network’s use of Cirque de Soleil performers who contort themselves into various NFL related shapes for their Thursday broadcasts. But I think it’s time to make them step up and take on more challenging shapes, like the shape of a drunken Orton splayed out on the bathroom floor, or the shape of Collinsworth’s enormous Adam’s apple, or the shape of league execs fisting a fan in the ass because no one gets their stupid fucking channel.

Two Throwgasms

Chargers at Chiefs: The Chiefs have a grand total of six sacks on the year. There are 21 individual players who have more sacks than the entire KC defense, including Parys Haralson, a player I did not even know existed until now. Way to trade Jared Allen, Carl Peterson. There’s no smarter way to rebuild a franchise than by trading away guys you can easily rebuild with.

Bills at Jets: The thing that pisses me off about those fucking Brett Favre Wrangler ads is that everyone is playing touch football in jeans in the spot. Who the fuck does this? Organized twenty man pickup touch football games between middle-aged men don’t just erupt spontaneously. Everyone needs to be notified in advance, so they can bring their all their touch football essentials: cleats, shorts or warmup pants, knee braces, arm braces, shoulder harnesses, water, neoprene elbow sleeves, college sweatshirts, gloves, end zone markers, Advil, and emergency adrenaline shots. Those ads are a microcosm of everything Brett Favre is: a manufactured, completely bullshit image of your average, football playing Joe. Fuck you, Brett Favre. Wranglers are fucking grandpa jeans.

Lions at Colts: Last week, in a promo for their BCS Selection Show, Curt Menefee teased the show thusly: “Who will play for the national title? Will it be Texas? Will it be Oklahoma? Will it be Florida? Find out tonight!” This was when everyone already knew Florida and Oklahoma were playing each other. I fucking hate this shit. Hey FOX, we weren’t born yesterday. Don’t try and build up suspense for some bullshit program that doesn’t contain a goddamn trace of it. Same goes for “The Sarah Connor Chronicles”. The only stunning thing about that show is the fact that Brian Austin Green doesn’t look like a complete queerbag anymore.

Packers at Jaguars: No more Saturday December day games again this year. GRRRRRR. Time to break out the Pakistani Beef Jerky.

49ers at Dolphins

One Throwgasm

Redskins at Bengals: Reader Nick P. sent me the following email: “You kinda look like Ryan Plackemeier. But your name isn’t as hard to Google.” Oh well, I’m sure Ryan is a handsome young buck with captivating eyes and flawless facial bone structure…

Fuck you, Nick. Fuck you very much.

Titans at Texans: I’ve been seeing a lot of ads for the “Dark Knight” Blu-Ray lately. One of the cool new functions they tout as part of the Blu-Ray experience is the chance to create your own picture-in-picture commentary for the flick:

Using a Web camera, users can record their own comments and play them back as a Picture-in-Picture feature over the film scene they have chosen. Users can then post the commentary on BD-Live, share it with whom they select and receive a rating on their videos.

In the hands of Kige Ramsey, this feature could prove more artistically valuable than the original film itself. If I had Blu-Ray, I’d do commentary for that movie dressed as the ghost of Heath Ledger. “And here’s the scene where I storm into the cocktail party. God damn, I was good here. I really would like to have been alive to win an Oscar for this role, BUT THEN THAT FUCKING ALIEN CUNT MARY-KATE HAD TO GO AND SWITCH THE LABELS ON MY FUCKING BOTTLE OF TYLENOL PM! YOU BITCH! YOU COST ME MY GOLDEN MOMENT! I HOPE YOU FALL THROUGH A SUBWAY GRATE, YOU WHORE!!!!”

Browns at Eagles: Chris Mortensen reported this week that the Browns COULD pursue Marty Schottenheimer IF Romeo Crennel ends up being fired. Note the use of “could”. You know who else they could pursue, Mort? FUCKING ANYONE! Holy shit. He could have reported the team COULD try and court fucking Hoyt Axton for the job and it would have been just as legitimate. Hey kids, want to be an ace journalist like Mort? Just follow these steps:

1. Think of possible scenario
2. Think of possible scenario resulting from possible scenario
3. “Report” that possible second scenario could take place

Now, you might be saying to yourself, “Wait a second. That’s not reporting. That’s just a giant pile of speculative bullshit.” Ah, true. But now that Mort has reported it, that speculation is OFFICIAL. It’s not just some dipshit blogger pulling shit out of his ass. It’s a seasoned reporter pulling shit out of his ass. You see how much more credibility the speculation has now that it has the backing of a lazy corporate monolith that’s given up on having any remote semblance of journalistic standards?

Jesus fucking Christ.

Seahawks at Rams: I watched the Charlie Brown Christmas Special earlier this week. I have no clue why, but pretty much anything Peanuts-related makes me want to kill myself. Christ, it’s so stark and depressing. Especially in the Great Pumpkin special, when Snoopy is pretending he’s the Red Baron. Ever seen the first Peanuts strip?

Jesus. That isn’t funny. That’s just fucking bleak. I’d could go to a wake and find myself in a cheerier mood. Charles Schultz, you were one gloomy asshole.

Patriots at Raiders: Ufford pointed this out a while back: I fucking hate it when Yahoo’s fantasy football StatTracker gives your defense an automatic 10 point headstart, because they’re technically “pitching a shutout,” even if only two minutes have elapsed in the game. Stupid Yahoo. STOP GETTING MY HOPES UP LIKE THAT!

Pregame Song That Makes Me Want To Run Through A Goddamn Brick Wall

“Aces High,” by Iron Maiden. “We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the aaaaair, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender!!!”

By the way, more rock bands need to have undead mascots, like Iron Maiden does. Iron Maiden’s mascot is Eddie the Head, and Eddie fucking rocks.

According to Wiki, Eddie is an unlockable character in Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 4. I will buy that game.

Embarassing Album I Once Owned That Will Not Fire You Up
“Peter and The Wolf,” performed by Wendy Carlos and narrated by Weird Al Yankovic. Wendy Carlos is best known for doing the music for Clockwork Orange. Oh, and for being born a man.

If You Don’t Like The “All Nightmare Long” Video, You Can Eat A Bag Of Shit

Bad. Ass. It feels good to have Metallica back. At last, they are a shit-stomping behemoth again. Grab your lobos, men. Zack has arrived. And he’s speakin’ Russian.

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Marshawn Lynch. Way to tank when everyone needed you, asshole. Beast Mode, my ass. That was Pussywillow Mode. If it don’t get no better than solid, then you are a puddle of warm piss, my friend.

Five Potential Key Injuries
-Frank Gore (ankle)
-JaMarcus Russell (buffet)
-Aaron Rodgers (kinda shitty)
-Peyton Manning (mushroom ear)
-Tommy Kelly (anal corns)

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week’s suicide pick of the Minnesota was, amazingly, correct, which makes me 11-3 for the year. Off the board now are the Jets, the Giants, Minnesota, Tennessee, Tampa, Carolina, Arizona, Chicago, Jacksonville, Green Bay, Pittsburgh, San Diego, Buffalo, and Detroit. We again choose both a team for your suicide pool and an actual way of committing suicide. This week’s pick? New England, and allowing Jay Leno to occupy five hours of prime-time programming every week. Oh, like I’ll chime in to THAT. Fucktasters.

Nazi Shark’s Vegas Lock Of The Week
Lots of sports sites, to demonstrate the arbitrary nature of gambling, like to have animals like monkeys pick games to see if they can outwit their human counterparts. There’s no reason we at Deadspin can’t also get in on the fun. So we’ve asked National Socialist German Workers’ Party member Rolf, who also happens to be a shark, to pick one game a week. Take it away, Nazi shark.

“This week, I like Cincy getting 6.5 points at home against the Skins. Hey Drew, I hope you beat the shit out of Steinberg.”

Oh, that’s very nice of you to wish me luck in my fantasy football matchup, Rolf.

“You play fantasy football?”

2008 Nazi Shark Record: 3-9

Great Moments In Sports Poop History
I’m out of good sports poop stories for the time being. Got one? Hit me up. Nothing makes my day like a good poop. Bonus points for brevity.

In the meantime, I’ll tell you one story I’ve told before. A friend of mine is at work. He goes to the john. His boss comes out of the stall. He asks his boss, “How’d it go?” And his boss says, “It was a two-beacher. With NO paperwork.” And then he walks out. Best sounding dump I’ve heard of yet.

Fire This Asshole!
Is there anything more exciting than a coach losing his job? All year long, we’ll keep track of which coaches will almost certainly get fired at year’s end or sooner. And now, your updated chopping block:

Jim Haslett
Tom Cable
Rod Marinelli
Herm Edwards
Norv Turner
Romeo Crennel
Gary Kubiak
Jack Del Rio
Mike McCarthy
Lovie Smith
Marvin Lewis
Jim Zorn

I’m bringing back Marvin Lewis strictly because it just seems wrong to not have him up there. Mike Singletary is off for the time being, until he decides to start a bonfire in the middle of the locker room next week. We welcome to the chopping block this week Jimmy Zorn. Odds the Skins fire him, assuming they can land Cowher, only to then fail to land Cowher? About 85%.

Gametime Snack Of The Week

Cupcakes! Fun fact: 90% of all Manhattan investment banker wives open a cupcake store at some point in their lives. “Hmm. How can I waste my husband’s money the fastest? Well, I can’t cook. But I can read the back of a Duncan Hines box! EVERYONE LOVES CUPCAKES!”

I find cupcakes annoying in many ways. First off, many cupcakes are not evenly frosted. You need a solid half-inch layer of the shit across the entire top of the cake. And if the cake is too fucking high, then you have to unhinge your jaw just to take a proper bite. Also, ever try to set half a cup cake down on a plate so you can take a swig of milk? Falls right the fuck down, doesn’t it? That’s the dirty little secret of the cupcake. They may look like a convenient delivery method for cakiness, but in truth they are a huge pain in the ass. Hey rich lady, make me a real fucking cake. And give me a fucking fork. Otherwise, I’m goin’ Hostess.

(By the way, a hearty fuck you to muffins. Muffins are just cupcakes without icing. That’s buillshit.)

One-Sentence Excerpt From Men With Balls
"To my mom and dad, who taught me never to say inappropriate things. Which is why I wrote them all down instead."

Gametime Beer Of The Week

Oskar Blues Old Chub Scottish Ale. I could drink 47 of these while taking another 32 in rectally. Holy shit, that is good beer.

Random FKS-Style Tidbit
Here’s another fun fact for you: at least 99% of all divorce cases originate from some kind of argument over holiday decorations. Here’s a sample argument for you:

Husband: These lights look good?

Wife: The lights are too far in. Bring them out onto the branches a little.

Husband: Okay. How’s this?

Wife: No, now I can see the wires. I don’t want to see the wires.

Husband: Well, the wires are ATTACHED. I can’t bring the lights out without the wires showing, because they are all connected. If I could bring the lights out without showing the wires, then I’d be David Copperfield.

Wife: Just push the wires back. I don’t see what’s so hard about that.

Husband: THEN THE FUCKING LIGHTS GO BACK! SEE?

Wife: I don’t know. I think you have to do it all over again. Also, I think you bought the wrong lights. Also, I want to move the tree over there.

Husband: GAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

Robert Evans’ MVP Watch!
Time to start thinking about who the leaders are for the NFL’s MVP award. So every week, legendary Hollywood producer Robert Evans will join us to give us his assessment. Take it away, Mr. Evans.

“Baby, your front-runner for the NFL’s MVP thus far is James Harrison of the Steelers. Savvy? You know it! Reckless? Oh, yes. He reminds me of a young Joan Collins in a way. My, what a body that woman had. She liked show jumping horses while drunk, and nude. One day, we made love right in the stable. On top of Lavender, her prize jumper. Ever make love to a woman on top of a horse? Evans finished in the money that day!”

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Lions Fans

Shaun Of The Dead. Keeping with this week’s zombie theme. I know a lot of people have a thing for Jenna Fischer. But people also need to be made aware of Lucy Davis, who plays Dawn, the “Pam” character in the UK version of “The Office.” Lucy is also in this movie. Like Fischer, she is definitely not unattractive.

I liked this movie. But I really didn’t need to see the part where the uppity guy gets his insides ripped open by the horde. That image stayed with me longer than the jokes did.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
“My Homer is NOT a communist. He may be a liar, a pig, an idiot, a communist, but he is NOT a porn star.”

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Victoria’s Secret model Miranda Kerr. Miranda is currently dating Orlando Bloom. The world sheds a tear.
-For the gals: Lost star Josh Holloway. Why is he wearing jeans in the ocean? THIS IS NOT A WRANGLER AD, JERKY.

Your Motivational Pregame Quote For The Weekend
“Are you quitting on me? Well, are you? Then quit, you slimy fucking walrus-looking piece of shit! Get the fuck off of my obstacle! Get the fuck down off of my obstacle! NOW! MOVE IT! Or I'm going to rip your balls off, so you cannot contaminate the rest of the world! I will motivate you, Private Pyle, IF IT SHORT-DICKS EVERY CANNIBAL ON THE CONGO!”
-Sgt. Hartman

Enjoy the games, everyone.

Heat vision Jesus photoshop by 289.

This week, we're holding the second annual KsK Kares Kharity Drive for Fisher House, which helps build temp housing for disabled veterans and their families. We've already raised over $2,500. You can donate directly to FH here.

According to a report from the Charlotte County Sheriff's Office, Chester Marcial "Chet" Ward, of the 4500 block of Duncan Road in Punta Gorda, allegedly sliced pages in the book his roommate was reading before holding a knife to his roommate's neck and threatening to kill him.

The report stated the roommate, who "was in fear of his life," went to a neighbor's home and called 911.

When deputies arrived, Ward admitted to being upset over points from his fantasy football league and that he asked his roommate to move out of the residence. Because the roommate was ignoring him, Ward told the deputies that he pulled out his knife and cut the book as a joke.

Just guessing, but it's a good bet that book had pictures.

Upset Fantasy Football Player Arrested For Allegedly Threatening To Kill Roomate [Charlotte Sun Herald]
Advice: Don't Take Fantasy Football Too Seriously [The Hazean]

But honestly, I'm not surprised to learn that so few blacks are among the 30 million people who participate in fantasy sports. I've always thought that a lot of these guys (and 96% of them are guys) are nerds desperately in need of more sociable leisure-time activities. Leisure time for black folks historically consists of direct interaction, the kind of experience you get at a family barbecue or hanging out with friends. Sitting in front of a computer screen pretending to be Bill Parcells? Sounds like work to me.

To sum up:

Blacks: like family barbecues and interacting with friends.
Whites: like sitting in front of a computer screen playing fantasy football pretending to be Bill Parcells. (Actually, I pretend to be Ozzie Newsome. Take that, Stephen A.)

But Stephen A finds out his impressions about fantasy football are a little off ,as he tracks down one of the most devoted FFB freaks in the country, comedian GuyTorry, who apparently gets enough loot from his brother's "Poetic Justice" residuals to spend most of his time playing fantasy sports. Good to know.

Also? Stephen A. finds out another reason why black folks aren't crashing the server at RotoWorld every day courtesy of a man named Kim Beason, associate professor at Ole Miss and also the CEO of the "Fantasy Sport Research Specialists" — the socio-economic factor:

[P]eople who have well-paying jobs with fast Internet connections are more likely to play fantasy sports. "When you break it down, it appears the disparity has to do with a critical mass of individuals who are together discussing fantasy sports," he tells me. "Up to now, that has mostly occurred in the white workplace. And a lot of time, it's on the Internet."

As if spending so much time participating in live drafts and scouring the waiver wires didn't give you enough to feel guilty about already.

Up Front [ESPN]

If there is one saving grace about August, which is a fucking hot waste of a month, it is that August is the month in which we begin to prepare for the delight that is fall. We buy school supplies. We leaf through fall TV and movie previews (Pacino! DeNiro! Together! Three decades too late!). We buy fall clothing. I know I love heading out to Old Navy, picking out two new shirts, getting excited about wearing them, and then growing sick to death of them within a week.

And, of course, we prepare for football. A long time ago, I used to get jazzed for football by leafing through special NFL editions of SI Presents. They don’t publish SI Presents anymore, which baffles me to no end. Those annuals were the fucking SHIT. But now, my main preoccupation in getting ready for the NFL season comes through fantasy football, and prepping for fantasy drafts.

Now, there are still some old school people (COUGH*Wilbon*COUGH) who hate fantasy football. They’ll tell you it’s lame because it’s all about stats. Or, worst of all, that’s it’s NERDY. Even SI’s Don Banks, who I usually really like, once got all haughty talking about fantasy football.

Sorry, but we have a name for people whose primary source of entertainment stems from stuff that didn't really happen. They're called Trekkies.

In the immortal words of William Shatner, playing himself at a Star Trek convention on Saturday Night Live, sometimes I'd like to shake a couple of the fantasy players in my midst and say, "Look at you people. Did you ever kiss a girl?''

Oooh, no! I like to devote a couple hours a week to fantasy football! That makes me a DORK! Almost as dorky as a BLOGGER! I better look out. Ogre could come give me an atomic wedgie any time now! I better take out my slide rule and round up all my nerd friends to help formulate a zany plan to thwart his unyielding persecution. We shall use all our crazy math powers to devise a Rube Goldbergian contraption that will coat Ogre in liquified dog feces right in front of everyone at assembly! Huzzah!

This is a fucking retarded mentality. Tens of millions of people play fantasy football every year, and the number grows annually. Fantasy football fans aren’t dorks. They’re just, you know, regular ass fans. Fantasy football makes people like me fans of the ENTIRE NFL, and not just my favorite team, which is why the league is such a cultural behemoth. It also helps me learn more about players, coaches, and all other parties involved. It helps me feel closer to the sport. I love football more than I ever have, and fantasy football is one of the reasons why. So suck my nerdy balls, Donnie boy.

Best of all, fantasy football gives me something to do right now in August. Because, without that, there is fucking NOTHING out there. What’s that? I should watch the Olympics? Yeah well, the Olympics are the Tony Awards of sports. Fuck that shit. It’s time to gear up for fantasy season. So let’s break down your fantasy draft and draft planning, THROWGASM-STYLE.

All elements of fantasy drafting are evaluated for sheer awesomeness on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms.

Five Throwgasms

Drafting Live: The majority of my fantasy drafts in my life have been online. And while that makes for a very well-organized and smoothly run draft, it kind of ruins the whole point of having a fantasy league.

The main goal of a good fantasy draft is not to pick good players, or to ensure timely, orderly selections. It’s to fucking DRINK. A lot. My life is nothing more than a constant search for finding good reasons to drink. I was excited to graduate college, because it was a good excuse to drink. I was excited when I got married, because it was a good excuse to drink. And I am fucking jazzed for my keeper league’s live draft, because it means I get to get out of the house for once and go completely poison my insides with beer and rum. Did I just draft Eli Manning in Round 3? Who cares? I’m not wearing any pants! WHEE!

The question that lies before you when drafting live is really a matter of setting. Do you hold your draft at a house? Or do you head to the bar? Does the bar have internet access? Will the bar be too noisy? Can you find that bar that allows you to be able to hear each other during the draft, but is still busy enough to have lots of hot chicks parading around for you to glance at? Of course not. No bar like that exists. A bar is either a fucking dead zone, or packed so tightly you commit unintentional frottage several times over. Hot women don’t like bars that have ample space and comfortable seating. Everyone knows that.

I say go with the wide-open, dead-crowd bar. You’re gonna have a laptop in front of you anyway. No one looks sexy in front of a laptop.

See? That picture will never get old.

Snacks: Snacks by thousands! Each one more full of transfats than the last! Your unofficial snack of this fantasy football season is nachos. Every go to a high-end Mexican joint and gotten nachos that are individually dressed?

Awesome. That is one thoughtful nacho. Like a very small tostada. Adorable.

The Five Minutes Before Your Draft: Holy shit! It’s about to start! Who’s gonna go first? So excited! Can… barely… breathe…

Surprise Picks By Other People: You picked Joseph Addai first?! HOLY FUCK, THAT’S SOME CRAZY SHIT!

Naming Your Team: It’s “The Purple Jesuits” for me this year.

Drawing A Middle Round Pick: No long dead spaces for you, my friend.

The Moment You Realize A Player You Like Will Fall To You: If the next three guys just DON’T draft Alge Crumpler, the he’s all mine! Then my plan shall be complete! No one will be able to stop me! I AM DR. CLAW! MWAHAHAHAHA!

Four Throwgasms

Showing Up At The Draft With Your Draft Sheet Fully Prepared: That’s right. I study for my draft. The actual studying isn’t so much fun. But showing up at the draft with a fully prepared draft board, a board that is solely a product of my own irrational thinking, it lends a real air of authority to my drafting. COWER BEFORE MY PROFESSIONALISM! I don’t make my retarded picks willy nilly. I want to look like I put some real thought into drafting Lee Evans that high. He can’t get any SHITTIER, am I right? Huh?

Putting LaDainian Tomlinson At The Top Of Your Board: I love Adrian Peterson, but he still comes out of the game every three series for Chester Taylor. He’ll also tear his knee apart by Week 5, at which point I’ll start snorting pure Freon.

Drafting Players On Your Favorite Team: Yeah, yeah, you’re never supposed to do this. But there’s a reason people do it anyway. Because it makes watching your team interesting, even if they’re awful. And that’s important, especially if you’re a Texans fan.

Three Throwgasms

Scheduling Your Draft Late: I usually try and schedule league drafts right before either the last preseason game or before the Week 1. It helps avoid injuries, plus position battles often shake out by then. The only drawback? Waiting that long for your draft. Waiting ALL of August for that draft day is like waiting for your parole hearing.

Scheduling Your Draft Early: Nice! We’re drafting RIGHT NOW! But what do I do with myself when we’re done? There’s still a month until the season starts. How many Ambien can I take without overdosing? Are comas technically bad for you?

Drafting First: Congratulations. You got Tomlinson. Now go watch “Once Upon A Time In America”. You should be back on the clock by the time DeNiro rapes Elizabeth McGovern. Good scene to miss.

Finding Out A Player Is With A Different Team Than You Thought: Wait, Kevin Jones is a Bear now? Hmm. Perhaps a change of scenery will do him good. No, no it won’t. He’s awful.

The Draft After About Round 4: The talent dropoff in the middle of the draft is really quite astonishing. One second, you’re drafting Roy Williams. Ten minutes later, you’re looking at the rest of your board and saying, “Really? Ted Ginn’s the best guy left? Jesus.” You can still find some gems late, but Ted Ginn isn’t going to be one of them.

Overvaluing/Undervaluing Secondary Nuggets Of Information: Did Alex Smith suck last year? Did he ever! But Mike Martz is the coordinator now, and he really likes to air it out! That could increase his value. I think. Maybe. Eh, probably not. But still, just look at what Martz did for Jon Kitna. That wasn’t Jesus helping Jon become a 4,000-yard pick machine! That was all Martz, baby!

Two Throwgasms

Drafting Running Backs With Your First Two Picks: This strategy is wrong, wrong, wrong. Take it from someone who’s never won a fantasy league. It’s bullshit. Especially this year. One of the untold subplots of last spring’s draft was just how insanely deep the class at RB was. Guys like Mike Hart (Colts), Felix Jones (Cowboys), Steve Slaton (Texans), and Ray Rice (Ravens) all have the potential to get playing time right away and fuck with your rotation. Every down backs like Larry Johnson and LT2 have become rarities. In fact, in the case of Johnson, frequent use becomes more of a worry than a relief. More often than not, backs come in pairs now, just like wideouts do. So the idea of taking a second tier RB like Jamal Lewis over a first tier WR like Reggie Wayne is fucking stupid. You win with studs, regardless of position. That’s right. I just laid down the fucking LAW.

Drafting Last: All the waiting of drafting first, without the pesky marquee player! Whee!

Drafting Handcuffs: Oh, looks who’s being Mister-Play-It-Safe! I bet you order chicken when you go out to restaurants. Pussy.

Drafting Rookies: For every Purple Jesus, there are about thirty Brandon Jacksons. Remember him? The end zone sure as fuck doesn’t.

Drafting A Player That Fucked You Over The Year Before: You can never win with this. Did you get fucked over by Steven Jackson last year? Well, I can guarantee you two things. One: if you draft him again, he will fuck you again. Two: if you DON’T draft him, he will run for 5,000 yards and score 87 TD’s. He’ll also somehow score 13 safeties. Once a player screws you, he will always find a way to screw you.

Compiling Your Draft Board: It’s like choosing baby names. It’s exciting for the first five minutes. After that, it starts to turn into a real fucking slog. Should Santonio Holmes go above Brandon Marshall? Or should it be the other way around? Oh, fuck! What about Chris Chambers? I completely forgot about him! Should he go between them? What do their schedules look like? Errrrr… fuck it! I need to go eat a box of Nilla Wafers.

Selecting A Draft Date And Time: Does 9/1 work for everyone? What’s that? Tommy’s got a conference then? Can he do it by phone? What about 8/26? No? What’s that, Jim? You can only do it today at 4:35 AM? Does that work with everyone else? No? I give up. Event planning blows.

Trash Talking Picks: What are you, in grade school? Grow up. Real adults don’t badmouth their friend’s picks. They just make fun of them for general queerness.

Hyping Up Players Who Did Well In The Preseason: Happens on message boards all the time. ZOMG!!111!! DARIUS WATTS IZ THA NXT COLSTON!!!11!!

One Throwgasm

Wearing A Jersey To Your Fantasy Draft: Do you ever see Bill Polian wearing a Colts jersey when his team drafts? No. You’re pretending to be a GM, not a player. Fucking dress like it.

Not Realizing You Drafted Two Players With The Same Bye Week: Actually, the only thing worse than that is when you’re about to draft a guy you really like, only you realize that he’s got the same bye week as your other guy, so you end up having to draft Laveranues Coles instead. NOOOOOOOOO!

Being In More Than Two Leagues: Well, I need to Romo throw three touchdowns. But I also need him to throw NO touchdowns and four interceptions. Can he do that?

Inviting Charles Haley To Your Draft: Unless you like your popcorn extra buttery.

Drafting Kickers And Defense Anywhere But In The Final Rounds

Getting Everyone To Pay: No good freeloaders.

Waiting For Your Turn To Draft: This is especially agonizing if you’re in a league with Dan Shanoff. Holy fuck Shanoff, WHILE WE’RE YOUNG! Is he even at his computer? I think he’s auto-drafting. Varsity dad? More like Varsity ASSHOLE.

And there’s your 2008 Fantasy preview. Happy drafting, everyone.

Brad Evans:

So many different angles to go with this, but here's my take:
Jackson's bowel flush lends a whole new meaning to being "light on your feet." That kind of dedication must be rewarded. Based on his intestinal fart-itude, Jackson supplants Brian Westbrook as the Noise's third-best overall pick this year in standard drafts. Where's your colon at, Tom Brady?

Brandon Funston:

An "oil change" can only be good for the system, and it's nice to know that S-Jax is willing to take one for the team. But I have to question the timing. The season is still more than two months away. It's seems like a late August, early September cleansing would have a more impactful carry over into the season. Unless he's willing to step up to the mic again in a couple months, I see his value as unchanged.

Andy Behrens:

First of all, I don't speak for the Big Board. Only Brandon does.

But if I did, I'd have to wonder how significant the poop-letting was. Was it two pounds? Three? Eight? The guy's listed at 231 lbs., and we might feel differently if he slips to 223. That seems a little light.

Advantage, Westbrook.

So one of the glaring inequities I've thought about is that when one assumes such a daunting task as trying to manage a dozen post-adolescent males and their make-believe experience, you are required—by law—to work for free. And it is work, as anyone who has ever been the commish can attest.

However, if I decide to enroll our league in a premium service (which I would never do, since Fleaficker is the absolute balls), I would be required to pay for that service. This, conversely, would be totally legal.

So if one person is doing all the work and actually documenting things and is answering emails at all hours, then it's gambling...but when some other facility is doing the work and charging me for it...it's a service?

Paging Deadspin LLC...

So one of the glaring inequities I've thought about is that when one assumes such a daunting task as trying to manage a dozen post-adolescent males and their make-believe experience, you are required—by law—to work for free. And it is work, as anyone who has ever been the commish can attest.

However, if I decide to enroll our league in a premium service (which I would never do, since Fleaficker is the absolute balls), I would be required to pay for that service. This, conversely, would be totally legal.

So if one person is doing all the work and actually documenting things and is answering emails at all hours, then it's gambling...but when some other facility is doing the work and charging me for it...it's a service?

Paging Deadspin LLC...

Witness this very special Craig's List advertisement in Louisville.

10-20 professional men, ages 24-30, looking for a couple young ladies to serve and entertain us during our FFL Draft party (non-pro's please). Your boundaries will be respected and any ground rules you require will be set before the party starts. $100-$200 an hour each, plus tips for the 3-4 hour event. (pay will depend on attire and is negotiable) If you would like to offer any other services, you will be compensated accordingly. Attire is negotiable, and you are not required to be nude at any time. Please send your age, stats, picture and tell me what type of attire you are willing to work in and anything else you'd be willing to discuss. The party will begin around 6p and go until 10p Tuesday September 4, 2007.

"Pay will depend on attire." So, the helmet and shoulder pads are out?

Waitress/Bartender For FFL Draft Party [Craig's List]

Literally, the funniness cannot be described. Right now there's an email exchange taking place between league members that's both amusing and almost entirely un-publishable. Here's a sampling ...

Unsilent Majority wrote: Fantasy football without (unspeakable subject) would be like (repulsive criminal act) without a (graphic verb).

Big Daddy Drew wrote: (Repulsive criminal act)? That's how Westbrook convinced Daulerio to take him third, no?

AJ Daulerio wrote: Ouchy. I'm surprised you could even notice my unconventional drafting methods since your Big Board is most likely (disgusting subject). Do you and (respected fantasy writer at rival website) ever (disgusting subject)?

Will Leitch wrote: Behrens, if you cut this, you're a (expletive). Yahoo! Sports has no spine!

Indeed.

Oh shit, we're gonna have to start watching our motherfuckin' mouths.

Since telling you how great my draft was would be overbearing and presumptuous I'm going to let Andy do it for me. Check out his article for a breakdown of each team along with some first-rate analysis from my new BFF.

Y! Tank Johnson Desert Classic Draft Recap

For the second consecutive year, ESPN is having serious problems with its fantasy games. The above message, which anyone who tries to get in the fantasy game gets right now, has, obviously, perfect timing: If there's one time of the year when people aren't thinking about fantasy football, it's totally right now.

ESPN's Commodore 64 Not Working Today [Deadspin]

(By the way, by pointing this out, we're fairly certain we're doomed to a day full of tech problems here. We'll have it coming.)

I've always wondered if NFL players had fantasy teams, and if so, how seriously they took them. Cooley was serious enough about it to be in four leagues last year, but not quite serious enough to drop a touchdown pass in the endzone to keep his season alive. He's cutting it back to two leagues this year.

And if you're looking to find out how confident Cooley is in his own fantasy performance this year, the following quote is less-than-inspiring. "I'm not going to sacrifice a good team just to have myself on it," he said.

Beating Yourself Takes New Meaning [Washington Post]