Guest post COW: Rocket hates fake football “experts”
Posted on October 12th, 2007 – 11:28 AMBy Michael Rand
Rocket, who won this week’s Commenter Of the Week award on the heels of publishing a book, orders everyone making a living from fantasy football to get off of his lawn! He delivers 307 or so smooth words right here (and he’s also pictured on the right with our guy Beerman and the Albuquerque Isotopes mascot):
First of all, I would like to thank the people for the COW votes. It was both unexpected and appreciated. And I suppose I should mention again that I wrote a book about how the Vikings have made me hate every team in professional football. You can get it at www.myleastfavoriteteam.com. Finally, I would like to use the rest of my 300 words to discuss another aspect of football I hate: fantasy football.
Back in my more militant days, I used to believe that fantasy football was the epitome of hypocrisy for football fans. The very same folks who would decry greedy players who were only concerned about their stats would then spend Sundays fretting over the number of yards and touchdowns for individual players in an effort to win money in their fantasy leagues. I also despised the schizophrenic nature of having to root for another player on a team that one hates (you Vikings fans with Brett Favre on your “fantasy” team know what I’m taking about). It all seemed excessively distasteful.
I have since softened that stance and now believe that fantasy football players should be allowed to continue to live. Yet, there is one actor in the whole sordid drama that I will not forgive: the fantasy football expert. These shysters are nothing more than gypsies who are practicing scapulimancy in front of slow-witted imbeciles in the freak show of some low-grade carnival. I actually heard more than one of these snake-oil salesmen suggest that folks should dramatically alter the rules of their leagues because whoever got LaDainian Tomlinson would automatically win. How’s that working out for everybody? The collection of ill-bred soothsayers who have managed to dupe a significant segment of the sporting population and have made a generous living with their “expertise” at reading tea leaves makes me want to puke.


