It was a thrilling, exciting, pant-tenting, almost sublime 30 hours of Fantasy Football binge watching. I need an afterglow cigarette. Following Sunday nights/Monday morning Raiders/Chargers late night tryst, I woke up on the bathroom floor wearing only my Ken Stabler throwback trying to piece together what exactly went down and where I left my pants. I seem to remember having visions of Al Davis shaking hands with Hitler in Hell as he bragged about drafting Terrelle Pryor and I have a hazy recollection of Tony Romo throwing for 500 yards, pooping his tighty whities and blowing up the twitterverse. Before the blackout, I remember Tom Brady and Colin Kaepernick combining for less points than Ryan Tannehill and it may have been the Red Bull/Jager combo, but was there a David Wilson touchdown? These things happened, right? As the head begins to clear, it is time to examine our fake football rosters, take a long look in the mirror and face the cold hard facts – your team sucks and I have a drinking problem. Call it a fantasy intervention of sorts, but it is time to pull yourself up off of the cool bathroom tiles, dig deep into the waiver wire bargain bin and turn this season around or you’re going to find yourself bunking with Stephen Adler on Celebrity Rehab. It’s time to jam it or cram it. Anyone have some Advil, I gotta call my sponsor.

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Before we get to jamming and cramming the waiver wonders that could win your week, I want to welcome you all to the Razzball Lounge, my fantasy friends. The lounge is the place where we Razzball scribes come to kick back, relax, trash talk and cry in our boilermakers. Fantasy seasons have been won and lost in this dimly lit dump and now that the stench of stale beer and fantasy baseball has been washed away, it’s time to for us fantasy footballers to take over. Rip down that Mike Trout Fathead and make room for this life size pic of Gronk. Here in the lounge we find Sky cutting up old magazines as he creates a “love letter” to Doug Martin that will land him with a restraining order later in the week, “YoU’Re DeAd To mE, mUScLe hAmStEr!!” At the jukebox we find JayWrong in his Dan Fouts throwback dropping quarters as he plays “Stairway to Heaven” over and over, “Hey guys, you really should pick up Philip Rivers.” *bottle smashes above head* At the bar demanding another Labatt’s is our resident podcast host Nick, “The greatest football team will always be the Toronto Argonauts.” *throws up on shoes* Locked in the ladies room with this sweet honey is the one and only Tehol who is about to make a big discovery, “Whatever happens in the Razzball Lounge stays in the Razzball Lounge, right guys??” And standing here at the pool table is your humble-but-nonetheless-handsome Guru. *closes eye, aims cue, sinks 8-ball off three rails, downs flaming shot, accidentally lights turban on fire* “It’s time to jam it or cram it. What’s that smell?”

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Greetings Razzballer’s, before we run down the jammer crammer’s that could save your fantasy season, please join your humble-but-nonetheless-handsome Guru in the Fantasy Hot Tub Time Machine as we take a short spin through the space-time continuum back to the year 1962. *wavy lines wavy lines* What the hell’s going on here? Hey, look out for that iceberg! Oh, it’s 1912, my bad. I’m king of the world! *more wavy lines* I want to welcome you all to the King’s X Cocktail Bar in Oakland, California. Grab a Manhattan and watch as three Mad Men types – Raiders part-owner Wilfred “Bill” Winkenbach, Raiders “public relation” guy Bill Tunnell and reporter Scotty Stirling – create something that will frustrate and anger all of us for the next 50 years…Fantasy Football. Anytime you combine a wealthy owner with a private dick, a headline fabricator and a pitcher of Tom Collins’ “brilliant” ideas are bound to spring up. Thus, that’s how the Greater Oakland Professional Pigskin Prognosticators League turned into this frustrating game we devote more time and energy to than it actually deserves. Now raise a glass to Bill and the boys, lay a few sawbucks on the ’62 Packers and get your fanny perpendiculars back in the hot tub. *yet more wavy lines* It’s time to jam it or cram it.

Please, blog, may I have some more?

Week 2 of the NFL season was like a visit to Bizarro World in the old Superman comics or, for those not comically inclined, the Seinfeld episode where Elaine meets Bizarro Jerry. She had man hands! Those not familiar with the term please note what the scholarly website Uncyclopedia says: “Bizarro World is a situation or setting which is weirdly inverted or opposite of expectations.” In Bizarro World, Bizarro Budweiser tastes like Heineken, Bizarro KFC is made from real live chickens and Bizarro Tim Tebow is a right-handed-pot smoking-antichrist that actually completes passes. What in the name of Lex Luther occurred in our Bizarro Fantasy Football World last week? Philip Rivers played like a de-bearded Dan Fouts, Eddie Royal was catching passes like a goggleless John Jefferson and James Starks morphed into Paul Hornung on a hot streak. If you suffered through an unearthly Sunday, you’re not alone. Half of the top 6 fantasy scorers last week are less than 50% owned across most leagues. If you were one of the 2% that started Charles Clay on Sunday, I surrender my turban to you. Maybe you should be writing this, Bizarro Guru. It’s time to jam it or cram it.

Please, blog, may I have some more?

It was an exciting opening week for the NFL and we fantasy baller’s are either twerking in celebration or connecting the garden hose to the Tauraus’ tailpipe. It’s probably a little early in the season to do either. Besides, this could happen when the twerk goes wrong. There were plenty of surprises opening Sunday. There were […]

Please, blog, may I have some more?