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Fantasy Football Angst Flattens Treasurer’s Bill

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By Jeff Gibson

It’s envelopes like this one — those that taste bitter when you lick them even though the reason has nothing to do with toxic glue or the bleached paper — that make you consider how much time you’ve wasted into the whole fantasy football crapshoot. (Note: my girlfriend is somewhere nodding her head.)

It’s envelopes like this one — a champion’s check neatly tucked inside — that make you consider what could have been a great season. If it wasn’t for Scam Newton’s slow start. Or your overestimation of any Cardinals’ quarterback to get Larry Fitzgerald the ball, even occasionally. Maybe then you’d have at least broken even.

But you didn’t break even. Perdiste todo. Your team stunk and you know it. That’s what you get for naming it “Twinning!”.

Tom Brady and Justin Bieber’s hair #thingsbetterthanyourfantasyteam

It over-performed and made you think for a few weeks you had a decent shot at a playoff push. If it wasn’t for those damn replacement refs giving the game to Hawks, then your Green Bay defense would have given you enough points to push you past your division rival, giving you the division you rightfully deserve.

This doesn’t get old.

That game was six months ago.

And you’re still holding on to it.

Just like the pot.

Not that pot. The league purse. The booty. You’re the dude who agreed to collect everyone’s money. The guy they all trusted wouldn’t blow it in Vegas. The sucker.

Admit it. You know nothing about football. You can’t fathom how a call on the field can’t be overturned when there were in fact two calls on the field so therefore no call on the field. You don’t grasp why garbage time scoring plays aren’t given as much attention in the review booth as when it “matters”. At least baseball umps can’t completely control the outcome of a game.

Hey. Forget the refs. That’s not really what bothers you. What bothers you is that these envelopes should have been given out weeks, even months ago.

It’s that time of the year when you should be getting your bracket together or your celebrity league big board organized, but instead you’re licking stamps. You’re hoping Venmo.com is going to help next year. Then those certain league mates won’t have an excuse not to pay up before the draft. It’s an easy fix. How did you not think of that years ago? But that’s not what bothers you either.

It’s that you had to flatten the bill of your Red’s hat and be a dick about it.

“Hey, what’d you call me? Oh, well, that’s fair.”

You didn’t want to have to be a dick about it. But what bothers you is that they made you be a dick about it. How many texts does it take to get friends to pay you back? How many hints/nudges/reminders? Maybe you should write an article about it. Maybe that would help.

Yeah, but then you’ll get everyone who owes you coming out of the woodwork. Your buddy in Portland who never paid years ago because he started a super sweet rock band. Your commissioner’s buddy, his buy-in you’ve just considered a wedding present at this point. No, no way he even remembers that he owes. It’s a foreign concept to you. It’s like a plague or something with your generation. Like flaking. Monetarily flaking.

Maybe it’s too little for them to care. How much is too little to care about though? Five bucks? Sure, it’s like a favor. Twenty bucks? Mehhhh. Okay, twenty and over is a reasonable some to pay back promptly. But this is you we’re talking about here.

Are you the only one who pays your debts? Our country doesn’t set a very good example.

Hell, you could go back to flattening your bill. Just all the time. It’s in fashion these days. Maybe you’ll fit in. Remember to act all tough though. No one will know the truth.

Like how you spend more time on your outfit than you do your game.



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