Wednesday, November 3, 2010

It's sweeping the nation!

Hey guys, I'm probably the most well-known sportswriter in America, Rick Reilly. I've written for dozens of years about sports. I get paid, literally, millions of dollars to do this. And you know why? Because I write what no one else can. I've got my finger on the pulse of America. It's not big until Reilly says it's big.

And check this out guys, it's the newest craze, you've probably never even heard of it:

Fantasy football.


You could always spot them, the addicts. The Frisbee-eyed fools leaping off their bar stools over a missed FG in the first quarter of a game 3,000 miles away.

This might be the worst column I've ever read. I don't even know where to begin. The worst part of this is referring to people as "Frisbee-eyed fools," which is nonsense. Wait, no, it's the allegation that only people who play fantasy football care about games that are "3,000 miles away." Wait... it's the way that he's setting himself up for the reveal, like we're all sitting at home saying, "Addicts? Addicted to what?! I don't know what you're alluding to! What is this new technology?! FEED ME, RICK REILLY!" Wait... no... it's... it's... forget it, please just fucking murder me in my sleep.

The sickies checking WebMD on their iPhones to see how long turf toe takes to heal.

Get it? Sickies, looking at WebMD. Another award-winning, hot-button column from Rick Reilly, who again, is paid millions and millions of dollars to write this.

The incurables watching two hours of Sunday-morning Weather Channel before picking a kicker.

I was about to ask if Reilly had ever heard of weather.com, but then I realized that he also apparently had never heard of fantasy football, so it's possible.

Actually what I realized is that this is a fake anecdote actually experienced by nobody and that Rick Reilly is the biggest hack writer ever.

They're fantasy football freaks, and I always figured the "fantasy" referred to their sex lives.

BAM! Revealed. You had no idea he was talking about this brand-new thingamajigger called "Fantasy Sport," did you? Rick Reilly also figured that the "fantasy" in "fantasy football" meant "sex," which TOTALLY would have made sense. I also thought these guys were talking about "sex football," which is definitely a thing, and not "fantasy football," which no one has ever heard of!

Oh, and don't forget how famous Rick is. He didn't just join a league with the boys. He joined a league with SUPERSTARS.

But this season, I was talked into joining a Hollywood league with Season 7 "Bachelor" Charlie O'Connell, actor Jerry Ferrara (Turtle from "Entourage"), movie critic Ben Lyons, and a bunch of stand-up comedians and movie and TV producers.

That's right, a Hollywood league, bitches. Reilly is jumping into this new deal face first, motherfuckers. He's rolling deep with someone named Ben Lyons and a guy from the bachelor. Not enough star power for you? How about fucking TURTLE. Rick Reilly = Badass Fantasy Sex Football. QED.

What did I find out? They weren't getting any, either. But only because they were too busy working the waiver wires all Saturday night.

Yep, Rick found out that these "stars" weren't getting laid -- but they totally could! Man, these guys are fucking cool.

Also, who's waiver wire processes on Saturday? That's retarded, and as you'll see, this super badass league is really fucking weird to anyone who has even a cursory understanding of fantasy football. Oops, I mean sex football.

"I once broke up with a girl because she told me to start Ahman Green," says Ferrara, 30. "He had minus-3 points. I said I needed space. She asked if I was still mad about the fantasy football thing. I swore I wasn't. But I dropped Ahman Green the next day."

Turtle. Please call him Turtle.

Also this makes him sound like a guido douchebag, not a fantasy football "sickie." Which: Surprise! He is.

It's sad, really. Because the girls these guys get would make a mohel botch a bris.

That's a really creepy way to say that these guys are SUPER COOL BADASS SUPERSTARS that can have all the sex they want but they DENY it. And you know why?

Super brand new never-before-heard-of-craze FANTASY FOOTBALL.

I've used caps lock way too much for this post.

"I've had opportunities for sex on Sunday mornings that have been waaaaay too close to game time," says actor Max Greenfield ("No Ordinary Family," "Ugly Betty," "Veronica Mars," et al). "I've had, you know, difficulty focusing."

This is getting weird and pathetic. But mostly really fucking weird. Also, if you think there's anyone in this league you've ever heard of, please don't hold your breath.

Lyons' girlfriend woke up last weekend only to find him feverishly scouring the waiver wire. "She wanted to watch," Lyons says. "After about 90 seconds, she got out of bed and said, 'Wow, that was really boring.' So no morning sex for me, but I did pick up [Bills receiver] Steven Johnson, which I'm really excited about."

Why is there so much emphasis on these guys having sex? It's really strange and uncomfortable and I don't need to know that. It's a good thing there aren't any gay people in the league, or I'd have to hear Rick go on about buttsex (not that there's anything wrong with that!).

Still, the defending champion of our league -- Todd Milliner (co-producer, "Hot in Cleveland") -- has never passed up sex with a girl to concentrate on fantasy. He's gay.

No... Rick... please don't....

"Do you have any idea how many brunches I miss for fantasy?" he laments.

I absolutely LOVE the inherent gay stereotyping that gay people do fancy things like eat brunch.
He doesn't miss morning sex with his girlfriend, he's gay! He misses gay stuff like brunch and wearing sweaters! Crazy! This new trend even effects the gays!! I think it's going to catch on!!

Milliner has got to be one of the best fantasy football owners in the country -- gay or straight.

See, I know this sounds really oddly placed and faintly homophobic, but remember: Rick thought fantasy football was sex football (which is a thing), and obviously gay and straight people play different types of sex football (which is a thing). So you can't blame him on this one.

He went undefeated last season, 15-0. He's so obsessed, he doesn't do Thanksgiving dinner. He doesn't do fall holidays, period.

That's weird. Not eating Thanksgiving dinner doesn't make your fantasy team better. This guy sounds like he needs legitimate psychiatric help.

"I spoiled the Halloween of every kid who came to my door this year because I couldn't answer it. I had to be ready at all times to know whether Mewelde Moore got a TD or not. And I don't even HAVE Mewelde Moore."

Times Rick tried to show how funny and badass his cool Hollywood friends are but instead just made them look like raging dickheads with serious mental issues: 3

Into this craziness stepped little naive me, vowing, "I'm just going to do this for laughs. I refuse to become obsessed."

As if.

BWP MURDER MYSTERY: What year does Rick Reilly think he's in?

Clues:
- He would watch two hours of the Weather Channel instead of going to their web site.
- He's just now being introduced to Fantasy Football.
- He unironically used the term "As if."

Mail your answers to Rick Reilly in a bloodstained envelope with a note attached telling him to quit his job.

The draft was at a Sunset Boulevard joint called Happy Endings. All these comedians and actors and yet nobody said a single funny thing all night. They were nose-down into their stacks of spread sheets and laptops. They were on phones to consultants. They had calculators out.

It was swanky! There were celebrities! Famous Hollywood people! I'm Rick Reilly!

I stood there with my one crappy printout from Rotoworld.

I'm sure Rotoworld appreciates you calling their work "crappy."

The very first week, I found out why fantasy players morph into fantasy freaks.

What could possibly make these, virile, strong, handsome, bulging... gorgeous... men...? I'm sorry, I lost my place, what was I saying? Oh yes, what could possibly make these men stop having sex with thousands upon thousands of nubile women? Seriously, these guys are badass and could have sex with anyone!

If you don't go in up to your hairline, you get scalped.

That sounds serious.

It's serious.

So people in your league kill each other?

Guys were adding and dropping like incoming Harvard freshmen. Mauling the waiver wire. Gypsy trading.

I'm sorry, what the fuck is "Gypsy trading"?

They were proving my exact point about fantasy -- it ruins the games. Your childhood team lost? Your favorite player won? Who cares? You don't own them!

I blame Obama for passing the 88th Amendment stating that you're only allowed to either root for your favorite team, or for the players on your fantasy team. Asshole.

"I'm at a bar,

SO COOL,

and there's a crowd of people all cheering for their team, bound by the common love of their squad," says one of our owners, comedian Kevin Christy. "And I'm freaking out because Nick Folk just hit an 18-yard field goal in the middle of the first quarter in a losing effort against who gives a s---. I've become a sports bar non sequitur."

What an unfunny statement from a "comedian."

And then I found myself doing worse, like bugging reporter buddies for Reggie Bush injury updates. Like rooting for an Indiana tornado when Monday night came and I had nobody left on my roster. Like yelling insane things at the TV.

You rooted for Indiana to get hit by a tornado?

Times Rick tried to show how funny and badass his cool Hollywood friends are but instead just made them look like raging dickheads with serious mental issues: 4 (if you count himself)

"Honey, why are you cheering for No. 80 but against No. 88?" said my confused wife, the lovely Cynthia. "Aren't they on the same team?"

Sounds like someone's not getting any morning sex tomorrow.

It's a kind of sweet misery only fantasy freaks like me can understand.

Millions. Tens of millions of people play this game.

"I'm most embarrassed about rooting for guys to have a six-week groin injury," says one of my opponents, realtor to the stars Jon Bronson. "And watching my phone too much. I think I was staring at my iPhone when my kid took her first step."

He rooted for a guy to have a six-week groin injury? God, this is amazing. He's systematically taking down everyone in his league, including himself. It's going to turn out that there's an LA morning radio DJ in his league that murdered his children in a sacrifice to Arian Foster.

Times Rick tried to show how funny and badass his cool Hollywood friends are but instead just made them look like raging dickheads with serious mental issues: 5 (if you count himself)

But the more I got to know these guys, the more I saw why they did it.

Because they're fucking crazy?

Most of us don't go to an office. Our Guy Time Meter hovers near zero sometimes. I love my wife, but she doesn't want to kick paper field goals or ask if I got my haircut at the Oakland airport. Guys show love by giving each other crap. It's just how we do it.

If badly-written paragraphs were baseball players, this column would be the Murderer's Row Yankees and this paragraph would be Babe Ruth. It's the perfect storm. Unreadable, unfunny, untrue, amazing stuff. Really, really amazing.

First off, he manages to disconnect himself from his readers by mentioning that most of the people in the league don't work in an office. What, not everybody's a rich writer or movie star? What?!

I'm not going to touch whatever the fuck a "Guy Time Meter" is. And what is that "Oakland Airport" part? Is that a razz? "Hey Gary, where'd you get that haircut, the Oakland Airport? Which is notorious for giving haircuts... that aren't very good? Yeah, told you."

He then finishes with the cherry on top of a sundae that is made out of the worst, most foul-smelling animal shit of all time: "It's just how we do it." Wow, Rick, wow. Fuck yourself.

What are we gonna do, compliment each other's shirts and then make clam dip?

I'm sorry, I think I had a stroke and missed a part where toward the end of this column there was a big argument against playing fantasy sports, or something, and Rick was forced to come to the defense of guys everywhere.

Nothing presents more chances to taunt than fantasy football. It's daily for me now with these guys, hourly sometimes. And it's more fun than a fistful of pardons.

You might criticize Rick for not making any sense in this graph, but you have to cut him some slack: He's just invented this new game, called "Fantasy Football," and it's really about to catch on, so he's just a little excited!

"It's the camaraderie of the guys," says Ferrara of his fantasy entourage. "It allows you to kinda be kids again. It's like we're all back playing Wiffle Ball in the yard. Man, I'm getting kinda teary just thinking this stuff."

This is weird but it's almost over so I need to mention some weird stuff from the sidebar:

First off, according to Rick, his team name is "The RomoSapiens," which is the most awful fantasy team name in the history of ever, made up by a guy whose job it is to be creative for a living.

He refers to his "best pick" as Zach Miller, the TE from the Raiders.

He then mentions that his team -- in a league of diehard assholes with money to burn and who forgo sex, meals, and human interaction to check on their teams -- is 5-3. Five and three!

But here's the weirdest part, for anyone who knows anything about fantasy football:

He compliments himself for picking up the Packers defense before they scored 43 points this past week. And is upset he dropped Carson Palmer before he scored 63 points in a week. What kind of cracked out, insane scoring system is this? 63 points?!?!?!?! Do they get 10 points for a touchdown or something? This is nonsense and no legitimate fantasy league is set up like that.

I mean, sorry to go off on a nerdy tangent, but for a guy who just wrote a column about fantasy football, he really closes the book and inarguably proves that he knows fucking nothing about fantasy football.

Sorry. One sentence left. Turtle said some unfunny shit about something:

That comes from Ferrara's heart. It has to. He's 1-7.

I... what?

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