Be sure to vote for your favorite haiku-slinger right below, and then check back next week. But, bring a Kleenex with you as we dive into "The Heartfelt" portion of the Blogolympics.
Once regarded as THE difference makers in fantasy football, the running back has seen it's value drop off in the past years. They're still the most important aspect of your fantasy football team, but they're no longer the oxygen to the human body-they're now more like...food. You can survive for a while without them, but without it, you're gonna die eventually.
The problem is the committee virus that seems to be running rampant through the NFL these days. It's getting harder and harder to find premiere backs these days. The good news is that the solo jobbers will get you a combined 1500-2000 total yards and 15-20 total TDs. However, going down the list, I only see around 10-12 guys who have sole possession of the starting RB job. So, blindly drafting RBs, regardless of their name, in the first two rounds is out this year. Out, like flannel shirts and slap bracelets.
So, who should you target and who should you avoid? Well, I'm glad you asked: Sleepers
Reggie Bush - New Orleans Saints - (ADP: 39.91) Well, it's make or break time for Bush. He's entering his third season, and he can go one of two ways. The way of Brian Westbrook or the way of Lawrence Phillips. They both had very mediocre seasons in their first two seasons, but one went on to become the 2nd/3rd best RB in football and the other went on to drive a car into a group of teenagers after a pickup football game gone awry. He's got a much improved offensive line, new passing threats to spread the defenses, and only a hobbled Duece McAllister and rookie Pierre Thomas waiting in the wings for him. This is the make or break season for Bush. The season that defines him as a stud or a bust. I'm willing to bet that he'll stand up to the challenge.
Michael Turner - Atlanta Falcons - (ADP: 46.45) Yeah, I know, the Falcons are pegged to rival the Dolphins for the worst team in the NFL this season. That means they won't run as much, since they'll be playing from behind. But, did you know that prior to last season's scheissfest, the Falcons had the #1 rushing team in the league for three consecutive seasons? Okay, a lot of that was Vick, but Dunn had 1000+ yard season in all of those years. So, Atlanta CAN run the ball, and need I remind you of how good Michael Turner CAN be? Remember Week 5 last season where he went for 147 yards and a TD on 10 carries? What about a career 5.5 YPC average compared to L.T.'s 4.5 YPC?
Larry Johnson - Kansas City Chiefs - (ADP: 14.16) Ooo! Risky! Take last preseason's #2 ranked RB and call him a sleeper this season! Nice job, jackass. Well, last season was a mess for Larry Johnson. Contract disputes, holdouts, injuries, lack of offensive support... Like the time Najeh Davenport dumped in his ex-girlfriend's closet, 2007 is something LJ would like to forget. So, yes, I am labeling Larry Johnson a sleeper. Especially when he's now ranked as the #9 overall RB and is averaging a mid-2nd round draft selection. Have we really forgotten how dominant he was a couple of years ago? Trust me, if I see him falling to me even toward the middle to the end of the first round, I'm putting that Johnson in my pocket...wait a second, that didn't come out right.
Busters
Steven Jackson - St. Louis Rams - (ADP: 4.08) Okay, you did pretty well in 2005. Then, in 2006 you got much better, but still it was just marginally great. Nothing mind blowing, but you were DEFINITELY on your way to superstardom. Before 2007, you were guaranteeing over 2000 yards rushing. Big talk! ESPN LOVES THAT! But, then you came out of the gates like this:
And NOW you want to hold out for a new contract?! R Jew CRAZY?! One good season, two years ago + Potential + Big Mouth = Steven Jackson. I feel for those forced to draft him.
Darren McFadden - Oakland Raiders - (ADP: 47.88)I know the ADP is a little low for someone to be considered a bust, but considering he's ranked as high as #15 overall amongst RBs on some charts and the hype he's getting, I'm afraid people will be picking him way too high in hopes of catching the next Adrian Peterson. Let me just go through a list to show you something. These are the last rookie RBs to have truly breakout seasons over the past 20 seasons:
1999 - Edgerrin James - 316 Fantasy Points 2002 - Clinton Portis - 289 Fantasy Points 1995 - Curtis Martin - 265 Fantasy Points 1989 - Barry Sanders - 259 Fantasy Points 2000 - Mike Anderson - 256 Fantasy Points 1994 - Marshall Faulk - 252 Fantasy Points 2007 - Adrian Peterson - 242 Fantasy Points
That's it. Seven players out of the past 20 years. And most of them had pretty good offensive lines opening holes for them. I'm not saying avoid him, I'm not even saying he won't have a very good season. I'm just saying, don't think that you're getting Adrian Peterson when you do draft him. Because you're not. You're getting a good RB with no other help whatsoever.
Adrian Peterson - Minnesota Vikings - (ADP: 2.08) Ha! I had you! Glory holing Adrian Peterson, just to turn around and label him a potential bust. This won't be a popular opinion, I'm sure. But, if you look at Adrian Peterson's numbers, Westbrook scored more fantasy points that he did last season. Peterson is feast or famine. Seven out of the fourteen games he played in last season, he forgot to score a touchdown. But, when he DID score, he did so in multiples. Real quick, let's look at the weeks around his record setting week, rushing yardage-wise: 63 yards, 70 yards, 296 yards, 45 yards... Some people say he's the #1 RB available. I respectfully disagree.
Bold Predictions
1. Both Brian Westbrook and Joseph Addai will be ahead of LaDanian Tomlinson fantasy points wise by the end of the season. This will be the final season of LT being the default #1 pick.
2. Brian Westbrook will miss at least one game... Ha ha ha ha! Okay. Just kidding. That's like saying "You'll have to pay taxes this year."
3. People will say, "Where the hell did Lawrence Maroney come from?" when Bellicheck pulls a fast one on everyone expecting them to come out passing 75% of the time again. Read more...
This has nothing to do with sports in anyway, but I was inspired by The Sports Muffin's Marathon Day post. I detail this college flashback in hopes that it inspires my still young readership to take part in something like this. It's natural and it's imperative to achieve spiritual enlightenment. I heard the Dalai Lama pulled one of these on his 6th birthday.
Anyhow, back in the ol' college days, we realized that every month has it's own specific holiday except August. August has nothing except the glorious August 21st, which is my birthday (I'll be 30 this year...). So, we came up with our own holiday for the dog days of summer. We called it Big Fun Day and this is it's story: The premise and the ground rules of Big Fun Day are these. A shot glass of whiskey is placed on your bedside. Your alarm is to be set for 8:00AM. Before your feet hit the ground from your bed, you must take the shot. From that point on, there are to be no vegetables eaten and no utensils used. Other than that, you just must drink heavily for the entire day. Here's some Big Fun Day stats:
Patron Saint of Big Fun Day: Big Fun Bobaganoush. Official Drink of Big Fun Day (and I'm dating myself here...): Surge & Rum, eventually dubbed Surgeon Rum ("Paging Surgeon Rum, Surgeon Run report to my belly STAT!" will be announced many times over the course of the day) It's nothing more than Surge cola and Captain Morgan's Spiced Rum, and it's actually very delicious (try it with Vault these days). Official Symbol of Big Fun Day: Buttering The Tree
So, we woke up at 8:00AM, took our shots, and by roughly 8:15AM our apartment was filled with 10 early morning drunks. By 9:30, we were sufficiently drunk and decided to fire off some left over fireworks from the 4th of July. We had masses of the oversized bottle rockets and Roman Candles. We started trying to light the bottle rockets, first by sticking them in empty beer bottles, but they kept tipping over. We then tried to stick them in the ground, but the soil held onto the sticks so tightly that they just exploded on the ground where they had been stuck. We needed something less viscous than dirt, but heftier than an empty beer bottle. So, we found a large tub of Country Crock butter in the fridge. Perfect marriage! The butter held the bottle rockets firmly in place and allowed their release perfectly.
After a few rockets shot from the butter tub, we got an idea to take a gob of butter and slather it on the end of the bottle rocket, thus creating The Butter Bomb. Unfortunately, the gob of butter on the tip of the rocket weighted it down enough that the rocket shot across the street and into the woods, where it exploded and promptly set a small forest fire.
We ran across the street and tried stomping it out to no avail. Eventually, we emptied out a garbage can, filled it with water, and ran it into the woods. After a few trips back and forth with the garbage can of water, and dodging traffic and hoping against hope that the police don't drive by to find a group of drunk college students extinguishing a self inflicted forest fire at 10:00AM, we finally had the fire out and we all had scorched, filthy bare feet to show for our heroics. Frustrated with the opening of Big Fun Day, I picked up the butter, reared back and slammed it's contents against a tree where the congealed goo clung for the rest of the day, thereby creating the "Buttering The Tree" tradition.
Shortly after that, the grilling commenced and the drinking continued. A grill full of hamburgers, chicken, and sausage and every fist with a hoochy drink. Hours rolled by, meat was consumed and booze was downed when the mailman wandered up onto my porch to deliver a couple of packages. I had forgotten that a couple of weeks before, I had signed up a couple of fake accounts with Columbia House. It was that moment that the patron saint of Big Fun Day, Big Fun Bobaganoush, had bestowed upon us a bounty of 24 brand new free CDs for Frank Grimes and Sol Rosenburg. We rocked out, drank, ate, and made outlandish bets.
It was sometime in the afternoon that I was wagered against to drink a Tuna Salad Cocktail for $50. The Tuna Salad Cocktail was a 44 ounce big gulp filled half way with Aristocrat Vodka, two large cans of tuna's worth of juice, a dollop of mayonaise, a splash of vegetable oil, pickle relish, salt, pepper, and ice. The jist was this: I had 10 minutes to drink it and then an hour after that to not drink, eat, or smoke anything without throwing up. Any puking would result in disqualification. I downed 90% of the cocktail in record time, but the last remaining bit was a slurry of cheap vodka, chunks of tuna and floating gobs of mayonaise. I took a deep breath and slugged the remainder back. Oh, man, was I on the brink. I heaved a couple of times, I saw the $50 slipping from my grasps. But, like the champion I am, I held on tight and fought it all back, pissing and moaning for another hour until the $50 was mine.
As dusk began, my roommate, thoroughly intoxicated decided to climb a tree by the road, chattering like a monkey, and swing from the branches while throwing pine cones at cars. Occasionally, we would sneak out and shoot Roman Candles at him. He eventually stayed up there long enough for us all to forget about him. Theories were later theorized that he fell alseep in that tree.
The night bared down on us, and some of us went home, some went to the bar, some stayed around, talked shit and continued drinking.
The following afternoon, I was regaled with the following story from my roommate who had apparently found his way out of the tree and to somewhere else in the town: "When I pulled up, I could only smell beer and burned charcoal. I walked around the corner and found you asleep in a chair on the front porch, and next to you was a perfect pyramid of beer cans, that was covered and surrounded by puke. It was like some weird performance art piece or something. I woke you up and told you to go to bed, you started taking off your clothes and barely made it to your bedroom."
So, now that it's August, don't you owe it to yourself and to Big Fun Boboganoush to celebrate Big Fun Day this month? Read more...
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the first annual Sports Blogolympics! It's a place where the finest sports bloggers have gathered together to match wits and show off their writing prowess. Quite often ridiculed by the few, the asinine, the compensated sports writers of America, we stand proud. We constantly scoop the press, we make light where only darkness has been seen! We use hyperbole better than any eighth grader alive! And today...today, we have gathered before you to take part in an event that will separate the genius from the brilliant. So without further ado, I present you our first event, The Hacky, Contrite Sports article!
Voting takes place at the bottom of this article. If you don't vote, then Peter Gammons wins... Hugging Harold Reynolds
While the competition called for us to produce the most "eye-rolling drivel we could force our keyboard to accept," if we gave judges our "best/worst hackneyed approach to sports journalism," we would be doing the profession a disservice by trying to compete with the hyperbole-laden, nut-wrenching precedent already set by some of the most recognizable pundits in the sports arena.
Whatever we spouted, we would only be showing our incompetence in the verbal and written realm of sports hackdom.
How could we possibly compete with the most well-beloved fraud/hack himself, Hall of Fame Masshole, "The Godfather" Peter Gammons? As if being a hack writer weren't enough, he needed to be a hack commentator and musician to boot. Smarmy. Condescending.
There's the "Namedropper," Bobby Moore. You know Bobby. He is on a first name basis with the NBA legend and degenerate gambler/adulterer, Michael. He changed his moniker to Ahmad Rashad after his first wife and before his next three. (It's a religious thing). He's happy. He's non-threatening. He hangs out with Michael Jordan!
There's the "Afterthought," Rick Reilly. Who's back-page, feel-good drivel was apparently just what was missing at ESPN the Magazine, the New York Times of sports journalism.
There's the "Chuckwagon," Sir Charles. He says what he wants, to who he wants, how he wants. That's a good thing, right? And no one has the balls to call him out on it, lest the be spit on or put through a plate glass window - or worse yet, get sued (or as we call it, "Caliendoed").
Speaking of Caliendo, John Madden, the "Coach," renowned in the world of broadcasting for...well, being a fat, mumbling pitchman. One of football's true treasures.
The "Huckster" and the "San Fransisco Treat" - at least the banter between Woody and Skip was amusing, even if neither knew his ass from the proverbial hole in the ground. They played the role of the clown and the closet-gay antagonist well. Still do.
The "Fraud." I know it's regional, but a list of hacks couldn't be complete without Philly's own "Chief" Howard Eskin. Homer apologist and home wrecker.
There's the "Fanboy." Bill Simmons, you once were the idol of many aspiring would-be bloggers. Now you're their public enemy number one. But what do you care? You're getting paid, living in LA and attending ESPN parties with the guys you prided yourself as keeping an armsdistance from. Yet, you can't shake your effeminant lisp. Cute. "Sports Guy" sounds like a pubescant girl. Should have stuck with writing.
And finally, there's each and every one of us so-called "bloggers." We aren't immune. We are all hacks. Who do we think we are? Like all the "journalist" and "commentator"-types above, we rely on others to perform on world-class levels, because we, ourselves, cannot. But, unlike them, at least we recognize our place on the spectrum and do not inflate our self-worth. And we do not speak in code.
Without the Peter Gammonses, there would still be Ted Williamses. Without the Ted Williamses, there would be no Peter Gammonses.
Press Conference Announcing The Hungry Actor's Participation in the Blogolympics.
First of all The Hungry Actor would like to thank God-without him nothing is possible. Secondly The Hungry Actor would like to ask God forgiveness for the beat down he is going to put on the competition in these Blogolympics. Some of you may say that Blogging is a team sport and that there is no "I" in team. Well The Hungry Actor is dyslexic and he says that there is a ME.
Blogging is a marathon not a race. It's a game of inches. But at the same time you don't have time to feel your opponent out. NO! You have to jump into that pressure cooker and draw first blood. Once you get those competitive juices flowing you start to feel the electricity in the air and its time to face your opponent head on, take that gut check and when the smoke clears-no question about it-you will see that you have lost and The Hungry Actor will stand over you victorious.
Why? Because The Hungry Actor is a tough, hard-nosed, scrappy impact player. The Hungry Actor is a man among boys-a man-child if you will-who has ice water in his veins. The Hungry Actor is blogger who has elevated his game and is worth the price of admission. You cannot hope to stop The Hungry Actor you can only hope to contain him.
The Hungry Actor promises you that he will take it one blog at a time, give it 110 percent and leave it all out on the keyboard every single time. The Hungry Actor is going to dig deeper than he has ever dug before and he can guarantee victory!
1. The teams are overhyped. I'm so over the Patriots, Celtics and Red Sox. And Tom Brady. Earth to ESPN, covering Boston all the time is older than Greg Oden. Talk about my favorite team more and stop the East Coast bias.
2. The Sports Guy. What a freakin' hack. He writes the same thing every time and always talks about Boston teams. Seriously Simmons, could you BE anymore washed-up? No matter what J-Bug and Hench tell you, nobody likes Karate Kid references anymore. What is your job title at ESPN? Boston Homer and Shark Jumping Champion.
3. Bill Buckner. Take that, jackweed! Burn!
4. These chicks aren't their cheerleaders. They're so smoking hot!
A reader looked over the blonde's shoulder at the computer lab on campus and got her email, so we've checked her Facebook page 30 times an hour. And she just posted these pics.
5. Speaking of chicks, Erin Andrews is sooooo hot. Here's our 12th picture this week.
6. They're racist. Did you know that? They seriously hate all black people in the city. Except Bill Russell, but he had to win like 20 championships before they'd even let him eat in a restaurant with them or use the same pool.
7. 18-1. The New Cheatland Patriots choked massholes, get over it and stop bringing it up months after the fact. Why don't you stick that in your illegal video camera footage.
8. They tawk like they're retawded. Here's a typical cawnversashun: "Yo Sully!" "Ay, Murph." "I'm wicked Queeah!" "Then pawk your green mawnstah in my Big Dig" What a bunch of douchebags.
9. Did I mention ESPN overhypes their teams? It's such a problem that I need to mention it twice.
10. Dane Cook. He's just not funny and he steals bits. I call them bits because he doesn't even tell any jokes.
Sean, aka oflarity, aka O, aka Ogueira, aka "Hey You!" - from the Sports Muffin here. You're probably asking yourself, "Self, what's a sports muffin?" Well, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you! Haha, not really, I'm just joshin' ya - but I had you goin', didn't I? Anyway, back to business - some might call me the quarterback of this little operation. Bottom of the 9th, down 3 runs, bases loaded, I'm the one the coach calls to the plate. Boom goes the dynamite.
But enough about me - we're here for the Blogolympics. I can assure you, the Muffin is locked and loaded, ready to knock this one out of the park. We're dotting all our i's, crossing all our t's, and getting down to business - doin' it for the Benjamins (yeah, that's right, there's a $100 pot of gold at the end of this rainbow. I need to thank the sponsors, DraftMix.com, for putting food on my unborn kids' respective tables). WE BELIEVE. Cocky? Arrogant? Nah. Confident. One blog at a time, that's our mantra.
I asked my fellow Muffin blogger, the Hairy Guatemalan, to see what his thoughts were heading into this battle. Here's what he had to say:
"We think this is a really good test for us as a team. We just plan on going out there and executing. We're looking for a total team effort from all our guys. We as the Muffin need to persevere and settle for nothing less than a W. We're going to face a lot of adversity out there, and it's really going to be a test of our character. There's no "I" in team, though, you know? We have to give it 110% and leave it all out on the page. This is what you dream about as a kid. Every day we thank Jesus for this opportunity and for giving us the strength to type on our Apple Macintosh computers. But in the end we do it for the fans who have been there with us every step of the way - the best fans in the blogosphere. I mean, what can I say, it is what it is. We couldn't do it without them."
Couldn't have said it better myself, HG. Or maybe I could have - through a Top 10 List:
Top 10 Reasons the Sports Muffin Will Win the Blogolympics
1. You can't touch this. 2. We're bringing our A-Game. 3. We're prepared for a battle of epic proportions. 4. We're the sentimental favorites. 5. We get the most out of our bloggers and take advantage of opportunities. 6. This is a marathon, not a sprint. We invented Marathon Day. 7. We're turning up the intensity, stepping up, and making plays. 8. We're hungry, ready to pull out all the stops. 9. We stick to fundamentals and eliminate mental mistakes. 10. Contests like these are our bread-and-butter. 11. Because this one goes to 11.
A message to our competition: you better eat your Wheaties and open up those playbooks, because the Sports Muffin is bringing the heat.
So, there you have it. The first entries to the 2008 Sports Blogolympics are in the book. Now it's up to you to select the winner of this event and come back next week to judge the next event. See you then!
After last year's rousing success and the overwhelming command my wife had over most everyone who attempted to beat her, it's time to do it again. So, without further ado, here's your chance again to beat my wife in NFL Pick 'Em.
Step 1: If you don't already have a Yahoo! account, you'll need one.
Step 5: Inevitably lose to my wife in NFL Pick 'Em.
Same as last season, anyone who ends the season with a better pick record than my wife will win a shiny new 2009 RotoDestroyer Fantasy Football Draft Kit, but this year you'll also win a season's subscription of the brand spankin' new, yet to be announced, RotoDestroyer Project-o-Rater that will project out each week's NFL scores and player stat totals for gamblers and fantasy types alike.
Anyhow... Sign up, beat my wife, and win stuff. But, remember, if you lose, you lost to my wife.
