Men across the country have been slowly counting down the days. Patiently awaiting the time when they would no longer have to stomach that 1st rd draft pick on Willie Parker. When drinking on Sunday will have more excitement than the backdrop of Padraig Harrington winning a major. It's no wonder August/September birthdays have increased 41% over the past decade. But the wait is over. Not only for your 2nd child but that sweet redemption for picking up Andre Hall instead of Ryan Grant. Fantasy Football is back and your female co-workers are fucking pumped.
Studies out of my apartment have concluded that the majority of girls will only complain so much before pretending to be interested in your fantasy football team. They aren't like guys when it comes to listening to constant over analysis of your squad. They actually don't get that when money and pride are involved, a league is more competitive than a sorority of Long Island girls waiting to ride my cock. You see, most guys will nod in agreement when listening to a friends trade dilemma. But they will actually be starring into space waiting to interrupt with their own question. It's a sick, cyclical occurrence that merely justifies ones own thought process. We feel comfort in ANYONE agreeing with a move. Example. I was taking a dump at the gym today and overheard people discussing drafting Brady with the 6th pick in a draft. The other guy told him it's a must pick, the guy threw 50 TDs last year.
"How many pts are TD passes," I bark while reaching for the shittiest quality of tp known to man.
"Um 4,'' answers the moron about to waste a pick on Brady.
"You're handcuffing yourself with that pick, take the top RB on the board and grab Brees in rd. 3," I recommend.
"You think?"
And that's all it takes. A man can be swayed by the opinion of a complete stranger taking a shit when it comes to fantasy football. Thus lies the beauty of it. Sure you'll have a few friends who are sure of their knowledge yet never seem to win. You're also bound to come across the guy in 5 leagues who loves every fucking player. But no man is truly sold on anyone. I could probably write a paragraph convincing you why you shouldn't even think about drafting Willie Parker. You may not agree with it, but it will 100% fuck with you. Ah thats fun. See what I just did there?
Enjoy these last few days of tranquility while you can. Come next Thursday, it all starts again.
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