The first thing I would do if hired as the new Cardinals GM is buy a car. Or probably an SUV. Either way it would be a really sweet ride, a statement vehicle informing everyone that I’d arrived and I was somebody you had to take very freaking seriously.
My first day I’d drive right up to the offices on Warner and taking out the super powerful megaphone I’d ordered through Amazon Now just for this purpose, I’d roll down the window and shout for the entire scouting department to get their lazy butts out to parking lot. Once they were assembled I’d say, “Yo, dude with the red hat, take one step forward.” And they’d be all like confused and stuff because they’re probably all wearing red hats, but I’d say “No, the one who thought drafting Chad Williams was a good idea.” When that guy sheepishly steps forward I’d rev up the engine and shout “Run!”
Then I’d chase him all over the parking lot with the SUV, maybe even bumping into him a couple times until he either collapses or somehow miraculously makes his way out to the street and safety.
Once that point was made I’ll dramatically cruise back to the slightly smaller crowd and say, “Okay now, which one of you dudes wanted Rosen?” They’d all be nervous and shuffling their feet but finally one would step forward. I’d tell that guy to get in the passenger seat and inform him he’s my new Number Two, but not before gunning the monster V8 under the hood just for effect.
Then I’d go down the long list of my predecessor’s crappy decisions with my new Assistant GM and spend the rest of the afternoon chasing the remaining offenders off the premises.
Next I’d get a super hot ex-model turned real estate agent and buy an awesome house on the 16th tee at Troon. I’d tell her I’ll double her commission if she’s topless while I sign the closing docs. If she gets all offended and stuff then I’ll laugh and say, “No, I meant not wear a hat.”
But if she goes for it then “Score!!!”
With my upgraded digs in place, I will stock it full with a dozen or so ex-Playmates of the Month. With my entourage of freakin’ hot sexpots secured, I can then invite my new boss, Mr. B, to my crib for a serious conversation.
“Was that Wilks who opened the door and took my coat?” Mr. B will ask and I’ll say “Yeah, he’s my chauffeur too.” We’ll both chuckle knowing I needed a driver in the aftermath of the police investigation into last week’s parking lot shenanigans. Then, doing my best Darth Vader voice because it never fails to crack the boss up, I’ll order Wilks to make us all fancy cocktails - you know, the fruity ones with the little colorful umbrellas sticking out of the pineapple slices. To our relief, it turns out Wilks is far more comfortable in a bar setting than on a football field, much like the guy who originally hired him.
After dinner I’d bring out the chef and it would be like “Surprise!” because standing there would be Antonio Brown wearing one of those super tall white chef’s hats. The surprise isn’t that the meal Brown prepared was spectacular because to tell the truth his vichyssoise were very pedestrian, but that I’d traded both Larry Fitzgerald and David Johnson to get him.
Mr. B starts to sputter that I hadn’t consulted him but I’ll say the guys in my Yahoo league all approved, except for one down vote from my a-hole ex-brother-in-law, who always downvotes every trade.
This is the point where I’ve pre-instructed the Playmates to bring Zedd onto the stage and as AB and I leap to the dance floor, tons of glittery confetti falls from the ceiling.
The scene is spectacular, like you know when some has-been skank like Madonna hits the stage at Super Bowl LLXVS-Whatever. Through the swirling clouds of foil and glitter, I see the pair of super-sexy Playmate twins start to unloosen Mr. B’s tie, but for some reason his wife gets all huffy and asks our former head coach/butler/bartender to show them to the door. I think the boss would have stayed, and that my job would be a bit more secure, if only his stuffy wife was little more into foursomes.
On Monday morning I’ll call a team meeting. Rather than watch film of the previous game’s debacle, I’ll lay out the new direction the club will be pursuing. Gone are the days of conservative dink and dunk playcalling. As a matter of fact we aren’t replacing DJ with another running back or using anyone on the current roster either, but we’re gonna be a passing offense from now on. They’ll ask, “You mean pass oriented?” To which I’ll say “Passing Exclusive!” From now on every play, and I mean EVERY play, will be designed for Rosen to pass the ball to Antonio Brown. There will be a general muttering of concern bordering on outright violence against the idea, but the suggestion that we adjourn the meeting out to the parking lot quells the rebellion for the moment.
“Look,” I’ll say, being reasonable, “the good news is that I really do not care about defensive performance anymore, at least not after the Broncos game where you guys got dropped and I picked up the Jets off the waiver wire.” All the defensive players will be relieved at this new change in attitude, seeing as the pressure to perform has been removed.
“What about me?” cries a sniveling voice from the corner. It’s Dawson.
“Who cares?” I laugh, it’s not like I drafted you anyway.” The team will laugh uproariously at this, as none of them would have made that mistake either.
The next game is against the Raiders. I tell Leftwich if he wants to keep his job he knows what to do. On the field I see exactly what I hoped to see. Lined up in front of Rosen are nine offensive linemen and Antonio Brown. The first play from scrimmage is perfect, a quick shovel pass for three yards and huge cloud of dust. This masterpiece is followed by the same formation and call, with the same results. From then on it’s three yards, dust, rinse and repeat, all the way down the field. The result? The Cards are up 8-0 at the end of the first quarter with the Raiders having never touched the ball. But the better news is that I’m sporting over 85 points from just two freakin’ players! F U Mad Dutchmen! Sweet Week Two revenge bitchez!
So my game plan is to let the under appreciated (on only 38.4% of all Yahoo teams) Doug Martin run unopposed for a quick score (and a quick 14.8 points for me!) which he does.
8-7 is the score, with it being 16-7 at the half. The second half is much the same, with the final being 32-28 (as we gift Doug Martin a meaningless TD at the end to cover my bets at Palace Station).
Wow! This will be of course the biggest beat down in Shark League history, and obviously just the beginning. Over the next several weeks me and my juggernaut Cardinals will dominate my fantasy league like nobody’s business.
When Mr. B is hoisting the Lombardi Trophy high over his head, I suspect the confetti raining down upon us will remind him of the missed opportunity with the twins, but I’m sure he’ll get over it somehow. As for me, I’m headed to Vegas to collect on all the 5000 to 1 futures bets I placed in every freakin’ casino with a freakin’ sports book.
Oh and yes I’ll be planning for next year’s draft too - and by that I mean the Shark League draft, of course.
JTS
PS - here’s a little tip for next year. Seeing as how Rosen and AB will be everybody’s number one and two picks next year, the smart selections just might be Bradford and JJ Nelson- just sayin’ lol
My first day I’d drive right up to the offices on Warner and taking out the super powerful megaphone I’d ordered through Amazon Now just for this purpose, I’d roll down the window and shout for the entire scouting department to get their lazy butts out to parking lot. Once they were assembled I’d say, “Yo, dude with the red hat, take one step forward.” And they’d be all like confused and stuff because they’re probably all wearing red hats, but I’d say “No, the one who thought drafting Chad Williams was a good idea.” When that guy sheepishly steps forward I’d rev up the engine and shout “Run!”
Then I’d chase him all over the parking lot with the SUV, maybe even bumping into him a couple times until he either collapses or somehow miraculously makes his way out to the street and safety.
Once that point was made I’ll dramatically cruise back to the slightly smaller crowd and say, “Okay now, which one of you dudes wanted Rosen?” They’d all be nervous and shuffling their feet but finally one would step forward. I’d tell that guy to get in the passenger seat and inform him he’s my new Number Two, but not before gunning the monster V8 under the hood just for effect.
Then I’d go down the long list of my predecessor’s crappy decisions with my new Assistant GM and spend the rest of the afternoon chasing the remaining offenders off the premises.
Next I’d get a super hot ex-model turned real estate agent and buy an awesome house on the 16th tee at Troon. I’d tell her I’ll double her commission if she’s topless while I sign the closing docs. If she gets all offended and stuff then I’ll laugh and say, “No, I meant not wear a hat.”
But if she goes for it then “Score!!!”
With my upgraded digs in place, I will stock it full with a dozen or so ex-Playmates of the Month. With my entourage of freakin’ hot sexpots secured, I can then invite my new boss, Mr. B, to my crib for a serious conversation.
“Was that Wilks who opened the door and took my coat?” Mr. B will ask and I’ll say “Yeah, he’s my chauffeur too.” We’ll both chuckle knowing I needed a driver in the aftermath of the police investigation into last week’s parking lot shenanigans. Then, doing my best Darth Vader voice because it never fails to crack the boss up, I’ll order Wilks to make us all fancy cocktails - you know, the fruity ones with the little colorful umbrellas sticking out of the pineapple slices. To our relief, it turns out Wilks is far more comfortable in a bar setting than on a football field, much like the guy who originally hired him.
After dinner I’d bring out the chef and it would be like “Surprise!” because standing there would be Antonio Brown wearing one of those super tall white chef’s hats. The surprise isn’t that the meal Brown prepared was spectacular because to tell the truth his vichyssoise were very pedestrian, but that I’d traded both Larry Fitzgerald and David Johnson to get him.
Mr. B starts to sputter that I hadn’t consulted him but I’ll say the guys in my Yahoo league all approved, except for one down vote from my a-hole ex-brother-in-law, who always downvotes every trade.
This is the point where I’ve pre-instructed the Playmates to bring Zedd onto the stage and as AB and I leap to the dance floor, tons of glittery confetti falls from the ceiling.
The scene is spectacular, like you know when some has-been skank like Madonna hits the stage at Super Bowl LLXVS-Whatever. Through the swirling clouds of foil and glitter, I see the pair of super-sexy Playmate twins start to unloosen Mr. B’s tie, but for some reason his wife gets all huffy and asks our former head coach/butler/bartender to show them to the door. I think the boss would have stayed, and that my job would be a bit more secure, if only his stuffy wife was little more into foursomes.
On Monday morning I’ll call a team meeting. Rather than watch film of the previous game’s debacle, I’ll lay out the new direction the club will be pursuing. Gone are the days of conservative dink and dunk playcalling. As a matter of fact we aren’t replacing DJ with another running back or using anyone on the current roster either, but we’re gonna be a passing offense from now on. They’ll ask, “You mean pass oriented?” To which I’ll say “Passing Exclusive!” From now on every play, and I mean EVERY play, will be designed for Rosen to pass the ball to Antonio Brown. There will be a general muttering of concern bordering on outright violence against the idea, but the suggestion that we adjourn the meeting out to the parking lot quells the rebellion for the moment.
“Look,” I’ll say, being reasonable, “the good news is that I really do not care about defensive performance anymore, at least not after the Broncos game where you guys got dropped and I picked up the Jets off the waiver wire.” All the defensive players will be relieved at this new change in attitude, seeing as the pressure to perform has been removed.
“What about me?” cries a sniveling voice from the corner. It’s Dawson.
“Who cares?” I laugh, it’s not like I drafted you anyway.” The team will laugh uproariously at this, as none of them would have made that mistake either.
The next game is against the Raiders. I tell Leftwich if he wants to keep his job he knows what to do. On the field I see exactly what I hoped to see. Lined up in front of Rosen are nine offensive linemen and Antonio Brown. The first play from scrimmage is perfect, a quick shovel pass for three yards and huge cloud of dust. This masterpiece is followed by the same formation and call, with the same results. From then on it’s three yards, dust, rinse and repeat, all the way down the field. The result? The Cards are up 8-0 at the end of the first quarter with the Raiders having never touched the ball. But the better news is that I’m sporting over 85 points from just two freakin’ players! F U Mad Dutchmen! Sweet Week Two revenge bitchez!
So my game plan is to let the under appreciated (on only 38.4% of all Yahoo teams) Doug Martin run unopposed for a quick score (and a quick 14.8 points for me!) which he does.
8-7 is the score, with it being 16-7 at the half. The second half is much the same, with the final being 32-28 (as we gift Doug Martin a meaningless TD at the end to cover my bets at Palace Station).
Wow! This will be of course the biggest beat down in Shark League history, and obviously just the beginning. Over the next several weeks me and my juggernaut Cardinals will dominate my fantasy league like nobody’s business.
When Mr. B is hoisting the Lombardi Trophy high over his head, I suspect the confetti raining down upon us will remind him of the missed opportunity with the twins, but I’m sure he’ll get over it somehow. As for me, I’m headed to Vegas to collect on all the 5000 to 1 futures bets I placed in every freakin’ casino with a freakin’ sports book.
Oh and yes I’ll be planning for next year’s draft too - and by that I mean the Shark League draft, of course.
JTS
PS - here’s a little tip for next year. Seeing as how Rosen and AB will be everybody’s number one and two picks next year, the smart selections just might be Bradford and JJ Nelson- just sayin’ lol
