I watched the film twice so you only have to suffer once. The Milkman has been humming along at 5-2. Palestony Soprano is sitting at 2-5 and calling it a rebuilding year. In a redraft league. Think about that. Somebody tell the benches to stay warm. They usually outscore the starters around here.
Two game plans walk in. Statistically, at least one of them is a coin with feelings. CRASHEE RICE (3-4) versus Shia Killer (2-5). Vegas calls this a pick'em. I call it mutually assured mediocrity. Buckle up. The projections have chosen violence.
Settle in. The projections say this one's close. The projections have been drinking. Two teams, 5-2 and 4-3, separated by nothing but vibes and pending regret. Yousef has won 4 straight, and has started walking around like they invented zone-read analytics. Kickoff's coming. Set your lineups, say your prayers.
Every week I say it can't get dumber. Every week this league accepts the challenge. On one side, Aziz at 5-2. On the other, Karim at 3-4, armed with optimism and little else. Karim has lost 3 in a row and started describing it as 'a process.' The process is losing. Lineups lock soon. So do fates.
Welcome back to the only league where the tape never lies and neither do I. Ahmad (2-5) and Okashah (2-5) come in dead even on paper, which is a polite way of saying neither has earned my respect. Losers of 3 straight, Raventus is one more bad Sunday from the booth calling it a lifestyle. On to the action, where the points are made up and the projections don't matter.
Good evening from the booth, where hope comes to be audited. Mustafa brings a 6-1 record. Issa brings 3-4 and a dream. The booth has seen the dream's film. The dream should be benched. Winners of 3 straight, Waiver Sniper enters with the swagger of a team that hasn't checked how it happened. Sunday will sort this out the way it sorts everything: rudely.
