Football at the Manor

By Harvey McGuffin
I remember when ...
When I was a young whippersnapper in Wilkes-Barre, PA, we didn't have no nutty buddies. Hell, we didn't even have those ball-blocker thingies at all. We took our shots to the groin like men. If someone hit a one-hopper up the middle, with a mighty unfortunate upswing off a pebble or some damn thing, that was your problem. Hell, sometimes it ain't so bad that you can't get a girl pregnant anymore. Not that it would have stopped me.

But enough about my balls. Let's talk about yours.

1. Madd Skillz. I remember when Ed Schillinger's team scored fewer than 146 points. It was six goddamned weeks ago, and that was only because his entire harem was taking a nap. There was a time when Video Game Schillinger boasted about how proud he was of his triumphs, his statistics and his extremely large cock, and two out of three in reality ain't bad. That's what Meat Loaf said. With Jim Steinam on the damn piano. Nobody respects Jim Steinam. It's a damn mockery.

2. Naj Davenport's Poop. Consistency killed the cat is what they say, and Andy Viano probably has a slain Cheshire, knife still sticking through its pretty little skull, sitting on his front porch. I put it there, assholes. He is pretty damn consistent though, given that he's scored between 112-126 seven of the 12 weeks, with two outliers on the bad side and one on the good. That's hippie math, but it means the bastard is good. And getting closer and closer to a lock for No. 2 seed, with a damn important meeting against The Nihilist Marmot in three weeks.

3. The Nihilist Marmot. There was a time when people didn't worry about playing Andrew Stem's Cellar Dwellars...bastard hasn't even gotten to 100 the last six weeks and hit only 90 in two of them. But there was the little Michigan squirt, with his Julius Peppers Monday night bullshit, trying to make it happen. Good thing for the Marmot it wasn't quite enough. The Marmot sucks. He reminds me of my wife. Just when you think she's finally going to keel over and die, she comes back with a vengeance and starts yapping about the thermostat. Bitch. I really have to buy more arsenic.

4. The Slumpbusters. This is getting redundant and I haven't even had my milkshake yet. Same song and dance, Skillz, Poop, Marmot, Slumpbusters...only this time, Eli Gieryna gets one of those down-bullet things that go next to that hippy hop shit when it's not hip with the damn kids anymore. The blonde bombshell (I swear to God, if you repeat that to anyone, I'll cut you in the nutter buster) is still 100-some points better than either of the other 5-5 teams, but he better stop giving the business about Tony Romo. The Curse of Tony Romo can be a pain in the ass. It's like the Curse of the Hemorrhoids, only without the burn. Or is it? Clinton Portis?

You know what? Everyone else sucks. I remember when there was no such thing as power rankings, there were just teams who tolerated the shit of other teams and the teams that didn't. Do you think Ditka gave a flying rat's ass where his team stood on the power rankings? The version of Ditka before becoming a pot smoker's wife?

5. Who Is Ron Mexico? Let's get saucy for a minute and shake things up by pointing out that the long-hairy one has won three of four and has a bullshit cheater on his team. I like that. Shows balls. He's on the up and up.

6. Tice's Partyboat. Even with the loss this week, Tice's Fleet of Fornicators has also won three of four and just found Ladell Betts to be quite the little steal. I remember when Clinton Portis was the talk of the damn league. Now, Ladell Betts is the new Larry Johnson.

7. ChamPeons. I remember when Eddie Kennison was good. I was eight. The fact that Champ still threatens to trot him out there tells me he's not going anywhere. Two losses in a row ain't so sweet.

8. Fresh Legs. I'm such an ass. Points wise, this guy is the fifth best team in the league, and here I have in fifth. Sue my black ass. Plus, he got a win this week, reaching 100 points for the fourth time in five weeks, but it was a barely-escape against Father Abraham. Mainly, I just hate fat people.

9. Father Abraham. My my, that spunky Rachel Ray has a nice set of boobs, doesn't she? I don't normally watch this cooking shit, but she can light this man's front burner anytime she wants. And bring to a boil. I crack myself up with these cooking metaphors. Father Abraham has lost five in a row.

10. Cellar Dwellars. Even worse than the Curse of Tony Romo is the Curse of Madden. It should expire soon, but too damn late. See you in hell.