Good morning and welcome to Lindy’s Latte. In order to partake in this weekly Friday blog you must have a cup of Joe in hand, if you don’t, close your browser and get to the nearest coffee hub.
Better, now? Can you feel the energy pulsing through your tired veins? The season has officially started so you get suited up and fired up.
I admit I’m new to fantasy football and until a few weeks ago knew nothing about it. I had a choice to make. Either spend another four and a half months excluded from every conversation in the Brown household (near and far) or get with the program and put my own team together.
Yeah, yeah, I could’ve joined into daily dialogue with Sarah about Halloween, Yu-gi-oh, Sonic, or Disney princesses and I could be spending my energy on more intellectual pursuits, but I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge. So here I am, the proud owner of Cobra Commanders, ready to share my experiences in this weekly blog.
Week one: Serving Nanc’s Iced-Coffee
6 ounces hot black coffee
2 ounces Bailey’s Irish Cream
2 ounces Kahlua coffee liqueur
1 splash Frangelico hazelnut liqueur
Pour coffee over crushed ice, or small ice cubes, in a blender. Add all other ingredients and blend on high speed until desired consistency.
Let me explain why we’re honoring Nancies this week. At the conclusion of The Captain’s League draft I felt I’d held my own against some more seasoned players; my team, after all, was ranked equal to my much more experienced husband’s and even ahead of some smack-talkers’ teams, who will (for now) go unnamed. Imagine my surprise when I reconnected with my team earlier this week and found that my once well-rounded team is ranked 8 depth ranked 9 out of 10 in the league. What the f*** happened? So I scrolled down and found red cross icons next to both my kicker, Sebastian Janikowski, and RB Andre Brown. These red crosses apparently represent injuries. Did I draft a bunch a girls? Come on, the season hasn’t even started yet. I don’t care if Andre, or is it Andrea, has a broken leg. Rub some dirt on it, shoot up some cortisone and get in the damn game. Maybe I should’ve looked further into the guy’s background. Was he raised with a bunch of sisters? The baby of the family? Possibly an only child? Hell, did his Mommy let him stay home from school with the sniffles or a sore throat, kiss every little boo boo until he left for college where he (like AJ McCarron) undoubtedly found some dewy-eyed girl who looks just like (and dresses as slutty as) Mommy? Maybe Mommy never missed a college game and wiped away his tears as she blotted his scrapes with Neosporin infused cotton balls after those games too. Honestly, some women shouldn’t be allowed to birth boys.
I scanned through my competitors teams and noticed a plethora of players claiming to be injured, some questionable, some probable, all Nancies. The average salary for a running back is only $957,360 compared to $1,223,925 for the defensive tackle out to get him, but for that money that each of these little boys is paid they should be ramped up to play. I bet if they didn’t play every time they sat on the bench those little broken bones would heal a lot faster.
This quitter attitude reminds me of Ashley Wilkes in Gone with the Wind. Sure, he loved the praise and admiration of the Southern belles as they tearfully waved him off to war, but once he got out in the trenches he realized maybe slavery wasn’t really worth dying for. Yet even the enervated Ashley Wilkes didn’t bandage himself up and quit. Not yet, anyway. Only when he’d lost his precious plantation and realized he wasn’t fit for anything other than being a Southern gentleman did he shrug his shoulders and bench himself. Maybe that’s why Sebass and a few others will suit up this week despite their aches and pains. Football is their life – they live it, breath it, sleep with it, and feel the adrenaline pump through their veins. There is nothing else. Those are the guys I want on my team!
Cheers.
Lindy
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