Ruminations on My First Month as a Fantasy Football Player

We’re through Week 4 of the 2009 Cascade Fantasy Football League season, my first fantasy season ever. So far I’m 4-4 — not bad for a rookie. I promised I wouldn’t use the family blog to ruminate about fantasy sports — can’t imagine Reese and Finn will care two toots about how my running backs did by the time they’re old enough to read this — but I have to do it just this once.

Fantasy makes the NFL an addictive proposition. I’ve watched more pro football games this year than I did all of last year. Sundays are officially couch time at casa de Jenkins. I feel like I’m living a beer commercial without the beer.

I’m doing it with smoke and mirrors. My running backs, Larry Johnson (KC) and Leon Washington (NYJ) have a combined total of eight (8) points in eight games. By way of comparison, Antoine Winfield, a Minnesota Vikings cornerback, scored nine (9) points last night — and he plays defense. If Johnson or Washington doesn’t get on track soon, the bubble’s gonna burst. My wide receivers aren’t much better. Larry Fitzgerald has been okay with 18 points in three games, but Terrell Owens has only eleven points in four games. Ted Ginn had six points in one game — and zip the rest. Zach Miller gets the ball toss to him — er, over his head — by JeMarcus Russell. ‘Nuff said.

This is about what Larry Johnson has done for me so far this year -- nothing.

At the beginning of the season I chagrined that I picked Ben Roethlisberger instead of Darren MacFadden with my first pick. Turns out I made a great move. With 50 points in four games, Big Ben has literally carried my entire offense this year. He’s the 7th rated QB in the league. MacFadden has a whopping seven points in four games for Al Davis’s Dumb Dumbs. I hope for his sake he can get out of Oakland before his career is officially ruined. Put him on the New York Jets and he’s a household name.

I dreaded picking him, but Big Ben is carrying me.

I have the best defense in the league. Aaron Schobel and James Harrison have been monsters with 23 and 21 points, respectively. (Compare that to my offensive players and you’ll see the smoke and mirrors.)

It’s still early to be forecasting the ‘09 MVP, but I’d be willing to betcha (uh oh) that it won’t be a running back. Aside from Adrian Peterson, the league is light on dominant running backs this year. I’d put even money right now that the MVP will be either Drew Brees, Peyton Manning, Eli Manning, or Tom Brady. It’s too bad Betcha’s not still around …

I better stop now …

Did the Seahawks Just Wear the Ugliest Uniforms in NFL History?

I just finished watching the Seahawks lose to the Bears 25-19, their second straight loss in what is increasingly looking like another wasted season. I blog on it only to memorialize the day as, quite possibly, the day the Seahawks wore the ugliest uniforms in NFL history:

Don’t get me wrong — the thought was okay. The execution, however, was not. Lime green with dark blue pants and dark blue sleeves? Way too cute by half. Had the jerseys been all green, and the pants been light gray, this might have worked. It didn’t. The ‘hawks belong on the next rendition of this page — and at the top.

(For the record, the Giants and Browns home uni’s are the NFL’s best uniforms right now. Both are simple and very classic. “Simple” and “classic” were not words that entered my mind watching the ‘hawks yesterday.)

So Much for That Great Idea

Last week I had the great, uh, original idea of writing a sequel to The Breakfast Club. Sort of The Breakfast Club meets The Big Chill. I was going to write a screenplay, sell it to Hollywood, and make millions. My pal Roy rightly dissuaded me from that idea — seems Universal owns the rights — so I quickly ditched my effort.

As with most of my great ideas, it seems that someone else already came up with it. I did a quick Google search for “sequel to The Breakfast Club” and did not come up empty handed. Lots of people have come up with ideas for a sequel — Joel Mathis on Lawrence.com developed his somewhat.

It was a good thought, but my idea for writing a sequel to The Breakfast Club ain't gonna happen.

Apparently the chances of a TBC 2 happening aren’t great. According to this report, Emilio Estevez had no interest in the project a few years back. Perhaps he will change his mind after the death of John Hughes.

For now, however, I think we’re stuck watching TBC over and over and wondering what could be … sorta how I feel about Deadwood.

On Looking Good

I just finished reading Primo Levi’s Survival in Auschwitz. It was a bit of a stream of consciousness book — not an easy read for a guy who likes his prose tight as a drum. I gave it two stars on Goodreads.com. Frankly I did not enjoy the read at all (forgive my use of the term “enjoy” given the subject matter, but I’m at a loss for the appropriate term.) It did have one reasonably good line, however:

A respectable appearance is the best guarantee of being respected.

In his case being respected was a heck of a lot more important than today, but the line still resonates.

Ruminations on My First Week as a Fantasy Football Player

I promise that I will not often contaminate the family blog with every thought I have about my new found hobby of fantasy football. Nonetheless, this is my first week as a player and it is my blog, so I’m going to bang the keyboard just this once.

A few ruminations:

This fantasy stuff is going to fundamentally change the way I watch football (and, hence, spend my weekends). I watched more full regular season games this week than I watched all last year. Thank God for Comcast’s video recorder.

Among the games I watched was last night’s Raiders-Chargers game. I otherwise couldn’t have cared less but I have Raiders TE Zach Miller, and his performance mattered. I’m amazed at just how bad JeMarcus Russell is. If he had not been a number one pick and had the Raiders not broke the bank to sign him, this guy is a No. 3 quarterback at best. (These guys agree.) As of now, he is one of only two starting quarterbacks in the league (Sean Bulger being the other) who is not owned in my fantasy league. After watching last night’s performance, I understand why.

My offensive players aren't good, but at least I don't have JeMarcus Russell.

It’s amazing how NFL running backs can fall so far so fast. Two years ago Larry Johnson was Da Man. Now he’s rushing for 20 yards on 11 carries — and that doesn’t look like an anomaly. LaDanian Tomlinson was a record breaker in ‘07 — now Darren Sproles is on the field at crunch time. Shaun Alexander was big time in 2005 — two years later he couldn’t get a job. These guys have as much job security as Seattle-area entrepreneurs who dare tread near the state’s gambling monopoly.

The more I think about it the more I appreciate just what a great target customer the fantasy player would have been for Betcha.com. The overlaps and value props just jump off the page. I can’t quite put it to words on this entry and I won’t lest I be hauled off to jail in Tennessee or some other would-be Louisiana, but something about “Hit the reset button every week.”

If Betcha is gambling, how is it that fantasy football isn’t? (Note to the Washington State Gambling Commission, who is undoubtedly reading this: don’t read this as an admission that I think Betcha is gambling. It isn’t.) Other than ESPN, CBS Sports, et al. are very powerful. (NOTE: A lawyer in New Jersey actually made this argument last year. The case was litigated in federal court — he lost.)

By the way: I went 1-1 in Week 1. Had Russell been as even as accurate as an 18th century firearm, he might have hit Zach Miller for a TD pass, and I’d have gone 2-0. I got mighty lucky winning even one, I must admit: Aaron Schobel, my third-ranked defensive player, outscored my starting backfield and one of my starting wide receivers — Ben Roethlisberger, Leon Washington, Larry Johnson, and Terrell Owens — combined. If those guys keep getting outscored by a single defensive player, my win against Norman will be my lone one for the year.

I'm in for a long year if Bills DE Aaron Schobel continues to be my high scorer.

My First Ever Fantasy Football Draft

Yesterday I attended my first ever fantasy football draft. I’m playing in the Cascade Auto Glass Fantasy Football League, run by my good buddy Brad Nelson. Paul Sharkey, Norman Cheuk and Tim O’Brien are also members.

About 16 of us spent a gorgeous Saturday afternoon in the basement of Fox Sports Grill drafting players for ‘09. I inherited Larry Fitzgerald as a keeper on my team. Among the other big names I nabbed: Ben Roethlisberger (whom I stupidly nabbed over Darren McFadden), Terrell Owens and Larry Johnson. Deion Branch — not sure what I was thinking there.

I think I made a big mistake picking him ...

instead of him.

Anyway, I was up at 4 am this morning lamenting my Roethlisberger-over-McFadden decision.

I think I’m going to be addicted.

Prediction: Inglorious Basterds is Gonna Clean Up Come Oscar Time

Last night Ronnie, Norman, Mito and I saw Quentin Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds at The Guild.

No doubt the best and most entertaining movie I’ve seen in a long while. I liked The Reader slightly more, but this it’s a toss up.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and predict that this puppy cleans house come Oscar time.

Christoph Waltz will get nominated for Best Supporting Actor — even though, if you were judging by screen time, he’s probably more in the “actor” than “supporting actor” category. That seems to be the consensus among early reviewers.

Brad Pitt will get nominated for Best Actor — even though he was arguably the supporting actor here. This prediction is mine — I haven’t seen anyone else call it. The Academy is aching to give Mr. Brangelina some hardware, and this just might be its chance.

Quentin Tarantino for Best Director — a given.

In fact, I’m going to go out even further on a limb — Inglorious Basterds and District 9 both get Best Picture nods.

You read it here first. (Okay, maybe you didn’t, but watch for it.)

Facebook: Someone Writes Exactly What I’ve Been Thinking

I don’t often use the family blog to quote other articles in full, but on occasion someone writes exactly what I’m thinking and, since they’ve already done the work, what the heck. Such is the case with this little gem from CNN.com about annoying people on Facebook, a source of great time wasting in Casa de Jenkins:

Facebook, for better or worse, is like being at a big party with all your friends, family, acquaintances and co-workers.

My Facebook page, circa today. No bragging or sympathy-seeking there.

There are lots of fun, interesting people you’re happy to talk to when they stroll up. Then there are the other people, the ones who make you cringe when you see them coming. This article is about those people.

Sure, Facebook can be a great tool for keeping up with folks who are important to you. Take the status update, the 160-character message that users post in response to the question, “What’s on your mind?” An artful, witty or newsy status update is a pleasure — a real-time, tiny window into a friend’s life.

But far more posts read like navel-gazing diary entries, or worse, spam. A recent study categorized 40 percent of Twitter tweets as “pointless babble,” and it wouldn’t be surprising if updates on Facebook, still a fast-growing social network, break down in a similar way. Take a CNN quiz: What kind of Facebooker are you? »

Combine dull status updates with shameless self-promoters, “friend-padders” and that friend of a friend who sends you quizzes every day, and Facebook becomes a daily reminder of why some people can get on your nerves.

Here are 12 of the most annoying types of Facebook users:

The Let-Me-Tell-You-Every-Detail-of-My-Day Bore. “I’m waking up.” “I had Wheaties for breakfast.” “I’m bored at work.” “I’m stuck in traffic.” You’re kidding! How fascinating! No moment is too mundane for some people to broadcast unsolicited to the world. Just because you have 432 Facebook friends doesn’t mean we all want to know when you’re waiting for the bus.

The Self-Promoter. OK, so we’ve probably all posted at least once about some achievement. And sure, maybe your friends really do want to read the fascinating article you wrote about beet farming. But when almost EVERY update is a link to your blog, your poetry reading, your 10k results or your art show, you sound like a bragger or a self-centered careerist.

The Friend-Padder. The average Facebook user has 120 friends on the site. Schmoozers and social butterflies — you know, the ones who make lifelong pals on the subway — might reasonably have 300 or 400. But 1,000 “friends?” Unless you’re George Clooney or just won the lottery, no one has that many. That’s just showing off.

The Town Crier. “Michael Jackson is dead!!!” You heard it from me first! Me, and the 213,000 other people who all saw it on TMZ. These Matt Drudge wannabes are the reason many of us learn of breaking news not from TV or news sites but from online social networks. In their rush to trumpet the news, these people also spread rumors, half-truths and innuendo. No, Jeff Goldblum did not plunge to his death from a New Zealand cliff.

The TMIer. “Brad is heading to Walgreens to buy something for these pesky hemorrhoids.” Boundaries of privacy and decorum don’t seem to exist for these too-much-information updaters, who unabashedly offer up details about their sex lives, marital troubles and bodily functions. Thanks for sharing.

The Bad Grammarian. “So sad about Fara Fauset but Im so gladd its friday yippe”. Yes, I know the punctuation rules are different in the digital world. And, no, no one likes a spelling-Nazi schoolmarm. But you sound like a moron.

The Sympathy-Baiter. “Barbara is feeling sad today.” “Man, am I glad that’s over.” “Jim could really use some good news about now.” Like anglers hunting for fish, these sad sacks cast out their hooks — baited with vague tales of woe — in the hopes of landing concerned responses. Genuine bad news is one thing, but these manipulative posts are just pleas for attention.

The Lurker. The Peeping Toms of Facebook, these voyeurs are too cautious, or maybe too lazy, to update their status or write on your wall. But once in a while, you’ll be talking to them and they’ll mention something you posted, so you know they’re on your page, hiding in the shadows. It’s just a little creepy.

The Crank. These curmudgeons, like the trolls who spew hate in blog comments, never met something they couldn’t complain about. “Carl isn’t really that impressed with idiots who don’t realize how idiotic they are.” [Actual status update.] Keep spreading the love.

The Paparazzo. Ever visit your Facebook page and discover that someone’s posted a photo of you from last weekend’s party — a photo you didn’t authorize and haven’t even seen? You’d really rather not have to explain to your mom why you were leering like a drunken hyena and French-kissing a bottle of Jagermeister.

The Maddening Obscurist. “If not now then when?” “You’ll see…” “Grist for the mill.” “John is, small world.” “Dave thought he was immune, but no. No, he is not.” [Actual status updates, all.] Sorry, but you’re not being mysterious — just nonsensical.

The Chronic Inviter. “Support my cause. Sign my petition. Play Mafia Wars with me. Which ‘Star Trek’ character are you? Here are the ‘Top 5 cars I have personally owned.’ Here are ‘25 Things About Me.’ Here’s a drink. What drink are you? We’re related! I took the ‘What President Are You?’ quiz and found out I’m Millard Fillmore! What president are you?”

You probably mean well, but stop. Just stop. I don’t care what president I am — can’t we simply be friends? Now excuse me while I go post the link to this story on my Facebook page.

Michael Jackson RIP

I learned of Michael Jackson’s untimely death today when Rhonda called to tell me about it. I was driving on I-5 through rush hour traffic in downtown Seattle.

No doubt that moment will go down as one of the “I remember where I was” moments of my life. There aren’t many:

I learned about Elvis Presley’s death while driving south on West Marginal Way with my grandpa. I was eight years old, Elvis was 42, my grandpa was 61 or so.

I learned about Lyman Bostock’s death when I read about it in an American paper in Moscow. I was nine years old. (I know, he doesn’t belong in this list. But for some reason I remember when he died. And he did hit .311 in a four-year major league career.)

I was sitting in a bedroom in a condo in Stateline, Nevada when I watched the 1980 U.S. Olympic hockey team win the gold medal. You remember — the “impossible dream” team. I was ten years old.

I was on a beach on Hood Canal just north of Hoodsport, WA when Mount St. Helens erupted. My grandma heard it. I did not. The date was May 18, 1980. I was eleven years old.

I learned the Space Shuttle had exploded over the loudspeaker at Kennedy High School. Father Batterberry delivered the news. I was 17.

I learned about Princess Di’s death when I saw it in the headlines in a newspaper at a Denny’s near the airport. We were on our way to catch a plane to Bend, OR for the first-ever Greenspan Cup. I was 28. Princess Di was 36, four years younger than I am as I write this.

I learned about the 9/11 attacks when my roommate Carol Baskin told me about it early that morning. I was sitting in front of my computer and watched the day’s coverage on CNN. I was 32.

Back to Jacko. I can’t say I was a fan of his music, and I count myself among the many (if not the majority) who found him beyond creepy. My Jackson memories are mostly of the 9th graders who dressed and gloved like him in high school, circa 1983-84. Nevertheless I can’t doubt his talent or his impact on pop culture. And regardless of what I thought of him, fifty is way too early to go.

Rest in peace, Michael. You’ll be missed.

Justice in the Donut World — Or Not?

I see The Stranger has Mighty-O Donuts listed among the best donuts in Seattle. About that I have no doubt. Mighty-O is run by my friend and tenant Ryan Kellner, as nice a guy as you’ll meet who also happens to make a mean, mean donut.

What I do doubt, however, is how it is that the Big O is currently running second behind Top Pot in The Stranger’s online poll:

I’ve had ‘em both. And while Top Pots aren’t bad, it isn’t a close contest.

Mighty-O’s are the best donut in Seattle, bar none. They should be the best donut in the country — but I’ll leave that one for another day.