Here we are, halfway through the season, and — right on time — a pervading sense of malaise has spread throughout the league. Can you blame us? Most teams have been hit by brutal injuries or plan ol’ fantasy AIDS (I’m looking at you, CJ2K).
But there’s one guy who’s not sweating the small stuff: Diesel Buffness. That’s right, the man we all took pot shots at during the draft (particularly, for his selection of “Who-The-Fuck-Is-This-Guy-And-What-Did-He-Do-With-The-Real-Matt-Forte”, if memory serves) is smoking our asses and sitting pretty at 6-1. His perpetually-goateed brother is right behind him at 5-2.
The rest of us are diddling with the .500 mark — including the Fops (who, since I crowned him cock-of-the-walk, has gone an ugly 1-3) who have fallen back to earth — though they still lead the league with a gargantuan 887 points scored. Reed, our reigning champion, has been quiet both on and off the field. But fear not, I’m sure we’ll all start to hear from him again — once he cracks the top three. Trav joins them both at 4-3 (and continues to hold a candle for PeyPey, stashing him on IR no matter what those so-called “experts” on Google Plus tell him).
Myself (who forgot to draft a running back) and China (who drafted plenty of RB’s, but they’re injured) are at 3-4. HBK has the ignominy of being tied with Deeb (who’s scored a league-low 653 points). And the other surprise of the season is The Red Hands, whose Fantasy dreams were broken along with Jamaaaaaal Charles’ legs. (But don’t sleep on the Hands, people — their record is largely due to some unlucky matchups, with their opponents scoring 863 points against them, almost one hundred points more than the next team.)
For now, sit back, set your lineup, and have a gay-old Halloween. Just like Diesel would want you to.