Perhaps most importantly, the league brought together a group of friends and one uninvited guest, living across 4 different time zones, in one place again. And while it might not be the same behind a glossy computer screen, it was great to know that no matter how much time might have passed since our days rocking the hallowed institution of higher education together, we were all pretty much still petulant little children trapped inside the bodies of mostly grown-ass men.
This is the story of The Post-Graduate League.
Nothing Like Your First “W”
“We did it. We #@$%ing did it.
Men, with our backs to the walls and our balls in a vice grip, it looked like we were nearing the end. But we never gave up. We fought back. We gouged out the enemies eyes. Stuck our fingers in their ears. Spit in their mouths. Grabbed them by the balls and clenched our fists. We then looked in their eyes and asked them how it felt. They laughed. Spit in our faces. Told us we were surrounded. But we never gave up. We just turned the wrench. Their balls suffocating under our death grip. Never before have I seen such courage. Such bravery. Such brash bravado. I am proud of you. Each and every one of you. My team.
My Fantasy Football squad — Colston Creamery.”
Faced with the unenviable task of trying to defeat the League-leading fantasy squad, led by fellow co-conspirator The Bailynator, I had given up much hope. His team was riding an undefeated streak, raping and pillaging most other teams standing in his way — on the arm of NFL Golden Boy Tom Brady. And all of this without much help from No.1-ranked RB Arian Foster. I knew I was going to need a lot of help to win this one. Already conceding defeat, I was already imagining my speech at the end of the season for “League’s Shittiest Team”.
But then something great happened. The New York Giants — an offense that made up the bulk of my team — showed up for the biggest games of their lives.
A shoot-out in Arizona was the only thing that would’ve saved me. I guess, all those prayers to Football Gods didn’t go unheard as Eli Manning, Hakeem Nicks, and Ahmad Bradshaw hooked up for 64 points. Yeah buddy!
As so began my slow climb to the mountaintop.
At What Cost
Having felt re-invigorated by my first win, I set out to make changes to my team. I could no longer count on an under-producing RB core of Bradshaw, Tolbert, and Grant. I also had Colston coming back from a fractured collarbone in a week, making either him or Santonio available for any team looking for help on the outside. It was time to pull the trigger. I offered a total of 5 trades, most of which were terribly transparent. I even got offered Cam Newton by the uninvited guest, but he wanted either Greg Jennings (Hell no!) or Hakeem Nicks (Is you crazy?!).
So I scoured the rankings and threw up some darts, offering Santonio as bait. Very few bit. Until I got to The Bittman. My offer of Santonio, underperforming at the time, and Marshawn Lynch for rookie RB Daniel Thomas was not immediately rejected. So, there was mild interest.
Playing the master negotiator, The Bittman offered up Reggie Wayne and Daniel Thomas for Hakeem Nicks and Keiland Williams. I wanted to bash his face in. Within seconds I rejected that trade. I was so mad with disgust that I failed to reject my original offer, which was accepted within minutes. Why?
News had just broke that Daniel Thomas would be out this week due to a re-occuring hamstring injury. #@$%! Looking ahead, I discovered that by the time I would get Daniel Thomas onto Colston Creamery, he would be missing another week. His team’s bye week. #@$%!!! Santonio would go on to score 12 points while Marshawn Lynch scored 17. Both season bests. #@$%!!!!
I’ve been had.
But hey, at least I won.
Beating the uninvited guest was fun. But at what cost?