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.
Chapter 7
Who Gone Stop Me Now?
After beating the uninvited guest, I looked at my team and wondered aloud just who in the hell was going to stop me now. Nut Buster couldn’t do it. The uninvited guest definitely couldn’t do it. Neither could the Darren McFadden, Drew Brees and Chris Johnson-powered offense of the Alburquerque HotKarls. Yeah bro, I was about to embark on a #@$%in’ roll. Riding high on the arm of Eli “Elite” Manning and the legs and hands of the Hakeem Nicks, Greg Jennings, and Ahmad Bradshaw. Not to mention that my team’s namesake had finally returned from injury, determined to make up for all the missed points.
Shit, I was unstoppable bro.
Not even Giants’ bye week was going to stop me. Yeah, the troubles of drafting an entire team’s offense onto your fantasy squad. Eli… Hakeem… Ahmad… And oh yeah, I just picked up the Giants’ tight end, Jake Ballard, the week before.
Yeah, I was about to get #@$%ed.
Wait, nevermind. I just beat his ass like he stole candy from a baby.
How you like me now?
With that little hiccup over with, I continued winning games just like the Giants. I showed no mercy. No team was safe. When matchup-ed against Black President, a league member who was already screwed out of fielding a competitive team by our league’s behind-the-scenes machinations, I didn’t take it easy on him. I smacked him in the mouth by 28 points. Sorry Black President. I really didn’t mean to do that.
Beating teams I had no business beating by 30 or more points can make one cocky and insufferable — yeah, I was talking mad shit. Until I came face-to-face with my own worst enemy. Cutlerz teh bestzzz — the team I had basically lifted from obscurity to playoff-worthy was about to show me how it was done.
#@$% this guy. No, not the team manager — I mean, this #@$%ing guy.
Yeah. Cutlerz teh bestzzz beat me with my own #@$%ing guy. Remember how I got hosed? And I knew I was getting hosed? Well, if it looks like a duck, talks like a duck, walks like a duck — it’s gotta be a #@$%ing duck. Let’s look at the stats.
for this guy?
Fuck.
****#@$%***%$@#****
Chapter 8
Playoffs Baby, I’m Talking About Playoffs
Even with that loss, my playoff prospects were looking great. I just came off another big win over another title contender, Be Easy. His squad was led by Aaron Rodgers who was, and still is, putting up monster numbers. All at the expense of the Green Bay Packers’ starting running back, Ryan Grant — who just so happens to be on my goddamn team.
So yeah, it felt good sticking it to that team. But of course, like much of my life, when I’m at my highest I’m up in the clouds but when I’m at my lowest, holy shit.
I just lost to the worst team in the league… Yeah, that was embarrassing.
It really hurts when your most consistent player puts up a donut and your kicker is the second-leading score on your team. Shit just got real.
And facebook messages like these from The Commish certainly don’t help.
Yeah, #@$% that guy.
Determined not to let injury turn into insult, I was not going to lose to TyRexasaurus Ryan.
And with that win, I punched my ticket to the post-season.
Whoo! Playoffs, baby.
Looking ahead, the team that I helped build was on a one-way collision course into my backyard…
Bring it.
the chronic fornicator
pudge NASTY
