Deep in Razzball Headquarters — probably somewhere in Donkey Teeth’s third basement where he keeps his Jay Cutler jersey collection — a phone rang. The ringtone, Carley Rae Jepsen, but not the song you’re thinking of. This phone call broke the rules of decorum, where Donkey Teeth was not to be bothered while attempting to ascend to the status of bodhisattva. The un-becoming would wait.
“Aye,” Donkey Teeth answered, returning to the material plane and answering his Blackberry.
“We’ve got a problem here, boss.” It was EverywhereBlair, weekly columnist for Razzball and the 18th most-read ranker on Reddit. “Seems Joey’s not coming out of his bubble.”
“Leave it to me. I’ll be there in a minute,” Donkey Teeth said, leaving his lotus position and ending the call. Naked, he stood in front of his miniature shrine to Rex Grossman, his focal point for meditation. “Blue 42,” he whispered, and disappeared.
A thousand miles away, probably west but certainly not east, The Joey Wright had walled himself into a giant, plastic ball. He had entered it during Week 11, with a small chair for the Razzbowl trophy had had been running away with, and refused to come out. Problem was, he situated the plastic ball in the patio dining of an In-N-Out. When the employees notified Razzball staff of the situation, Blair showed up and ordered a double-double, thinking he could end this standoff with some juicy beef. Instead, he found himself enmeshed in…a juicy beef.
“I don’t care if it’s animal style, I’m not giving up the trophy!” Joey shouted, waving a Subway wrapper around. “I don’t even like burgers!”
The rest of the Razzbowl competition had, by now, arrived and were similarly stocking up on the west coast’s most flavorful and cheese-packed patties. One man stood out from the crowd, though, the driver of the Razzbowl bus completely street-legal semi filled with fantasy footballers. His name was Stevens, and he carried a small projector as he instructed his fantasy footballers to set up a portable screen in front of the bubble. “Don’t worry,” Stevens said to the crowd, a drip of animal sauce falling from his mouth. “I know how to get Joey out of there.”
Stevens pressed play on his phone, and Daft Punk’s Interstella 5555 began playing. “If he won’t come out,” Stevens said, “We’ll give him a movie playlist that will make him come out! The trophy will be ours!” The fantasy footballers cheered, and fries were spilled everywhere.
Yet, Joey refused to budge. He sat through all of Glitter. He didn’t move for A Sound of Thunder. When faced with the entire run of Thunder in Paradise, he pulled out a bag of popcorn and rested his feet upon the trophy.
Night had fallen. The remaining footballers having returned to their legal and totally safe lodging inside the semi-truck, Stevens knew he had met his match. “I’ll get that trophy!” he shouted, departing for his bunk.
The moon was full, the stars obscured by city lights. In-N-Out, taking last burger call. Joey was alone, again with just him and the trophy. As he began to nod off, a figure shimmered into being in front of him, wearing a Devin Hester jersey.
“Donkey Teeth,” Joey whispered, halfway in awe, halfway in an acute mania from having watched 22 episodes of Hulk Hogan’s acting.
“Joey,” Donkey Teeth said in a calm voice, “You’ll need to leave this bubble sometime, right? You’ll have to, you know, pee or something.”
Joey looked around. “But the trophy is mine!” he said. “If I leave, Stevens will take it!”
Donkey Teeth lifted his hand, revealing a Kyle Orton jersey. “It’s OK. Wrap the trophy up and take it with you. Kyle’s legacy will protect you.”
Joey wrapped the trophy in Kyle’s jersey, thanking Donkey Teeth as he did so. Joey walked to the edge of his bubble, found the release panel, and walked out. He first turned to the projector, and stopped it to bits. He then turned to the restaurant and ran inside like a man who had been drinking Yoohoos for two days straight.
His work done, Donkey Teeth assumed tree pose, and ascended into fantasy nirvana.
Week 11 Razzbowl
What is up everybody? Hope you had an awesome Thanksgiving! And I really hope you did it safely, because I want you to pull through this holiday season and make some turkey next year.
We’re in Week 11 of the Razzbowl, and that means we’ve got 1 week remaining in the first post-cutline lineup setting portion of the playoffs. Do we have a word for that? ENYWHEY, you can probably guess who is *cough* still in first place of the Razzbowl. Is it 2019 winner Mike Beers? No! It’s 2020’s version of Mike Beers: It’s Joey Wright! What’s the difference between the two? Only like 16.69 thousand followers on Twitter. That’s right! A fan is absolutely crushing the “experts” and making them look like leaves scattered to the wind. But! Who’s that in second place? Why, it’s none other than Matthew Stevens, a fantasy lothario who works for Dynasty Draft Guide and *gasp* Roto-Underworld!? THERE’S AN INDUSTRY GUY IN 2ND PLACE! But really, five out of the top ten players in the Razzbowl are FANS. And that’s [insert expletive here] awesome. How many cool interactions and relationships have we had in the past few months by playing imaginary football? Fans and industry together, I hope we’re all having an awesome time and ready to have a great time in 2021.
The leader in the qualifier is Ryan Turner, followed by Jesse Allen and Tige Witsberger. I will point out that in the qualifier, *I* am one spot ahead of Joey Wright. HAHA! How do you like them apples!?
In case any of you are wondering, I did make the wild card cut in the main event, although I am in 55th place and 40 points off of being cut entirely. Thank you, Leonard Fournette! I can’t wait to see what the next week has in store for us. Remember–keep setting those lineups, and be safe this weekend! I want to see you next year!
