|random thoughts and thoroughbred selections|
|"All life is 6-5 against" - Damon Runyon|
Saturday, July 31, 2004
This post was intended for posting on Thursday, July 29th.
That’s what I get for procrastinating.
I didn’t really get a full day to write yesterday (Wednesday), as my boss was in town for my mid-year review. It was an adequate review, good in some spots and focusing on some areas of improvement in others. I’m not upset with it.
Anyway, he was out here for a half day, and therefore I had to close up shop on MSWord around Noon for my blogging enjoyment. Well, whatever spares you from another doctoral dissertation on Fantasy Football I suppose.
So, having sent myself the MSWord file containing Wednesday’s blogging goodness, I got home that night and wanted to play a little poker instead. More on that in a minute (this is, after all, a poker blog sometimes). So I put off posting my blog stuff to this morning (Thursday morning).
Of course, I wake up and my Internet connection is down. Just for you (yes, all of you), I went to the local Panera Bread where they have WiFi and posted Wednesday’s stuff on my way to work.
I mentioned I played poker last night. I sat $1/$2 in an effort to get back in the Limit groove and had one of the most distressingly bizarre nights I’ve had in awhile at the tables. I kid you not, over the course of the hour of bleeding bankroll in which I participated, three of every four flops I saw were “full house” flops. This only applies to the hands on which I saw flops, but I guarantee you that if I’m seeing a five-handed flop on $1/$2, and the board pairs, someone has that third card for trips.
I lost $33 in an hour on $1/$2, and only showed down twice – winning or splitting both. The pot I won was on a King high board, and my AT was good enough to high card a completely checked around pot of $4 into my stack. The other was on JTs, where I flopped the nut straight but watched a Ten hit the board, allowing Mr. J9 across from me to split the pot.
The hardest gut punch I took last night was when I had KK down, raised pre-flop, watched it get capped with a smile on my face, and then saw QQJ hit the flop. I still saw two bets to the turn – just in case – where another freaking Jack came up and I got out of there.
This was what I was dealing with last night. AJs down? How about a rainbow 88T board? Yes, someone had the 8. TT down? KK4. That time, someone did have K4, and I lost my pre-flop $3.
The flops here were just killing me last night. You know how hard it is to lose $33 on $1/$2 where you only show down twice, don’t lose either time, and rarely see a river card because you know you’re beat on the turn? Well, I do now.
Thursday, July 29, 2004
Throw today out the window
An update, albeit a remote one...
4PM - I get notice that we did, in fact, hit our bonus numbers for the quarter, and I can count on a check in about five business days in my mailbox for roughly $500.
510PM - I blow the tread off of a tire on the way home from work on the highway.
$500 minus two new tires = an annoyed BG.
How's this for odd - last night on my way home from work I pass this gargantuan motor home that's towing a Ford Contour on it with handicapped plates. My only thought at the time was, "How the hell, if you're handicapped, do you get into one of these big fuckers?"
Today, upon blowing the tire, prior to figuring out it was the tire and thinking it was the suspension or something worse, I called my dad's place to get picked up and to start the tow process. He didn't answer, but a familiar voice did. My Uncle Mark. He comes to tail me back to my dad's house, and there's a big huge motor home in the driveway, which he pulls in right behind with his Ford Contour with handicapped plates.
I'm not sure what all this means, but that's the kind of day it's been for me.
But you’re motorin’
Please, for the love of god, give me the ability to pass legislation in this country. I swear I’ll make this land of ours far more sensical than it is now.
The VoiceMail Provider’s Act of 2004 - I pledge to you, gentle readers, that the “#” key will become the standard “skip to the beep” key on all phone systems within the next six months if you give me the chance. It’s absolutely ludicrous that this isn’t standardized already, and there’s nothing more frustrating to me than pressing “#,” getting sent into the bowels of the phonemail system instead of to the beep, and having to redial and listen to the message again.
The Truth in Advertising Bill - I’m not looking for much here, but this DVD cover should have caused a public outcry. If, in your advertising wisdom, your studio chooses to place a bar that says “UNCENSORED” across the chest of an actress on the cover of a DVD box, she damn well better take her top off in the movie. No, I’m not kidding. It should be the law.
The Smoke ‘Em If You’ve Got ‘Em Act - Don’t give me that crap about waiters and waitresses and bartenders suffering due to working in smoky environments. You know what you’re getting yourself into taking those jobs, if you want to work in the open air, get a job at Disneyland. Or agree with your employer that you only will work in the non-smoking section. That’s why they have a non-smoking section. For non-smokers. The movement to be smoke free under every roof in America is just another case of worrying about litigation that might come 20 years down the line. As an employee or patron of a bar or restaurant, you should have a smoke free section, but you should absolutely know what sort of place you’re entering before you walk in the front door and not complain about it in two decades when you blame your toenail cancer on secondhand smoke.
The Passing Along Corporate Profits Provision - There should be better coffee in the break room, and donuts, muffins, and bagels every morning. In every office, but mainly mine. I’m just saying…
The Citizen Challenge Court - Where I live, you can’t buy alcohol in the stores or get beer or wine in restaurants on Sundays. You could have tequila shots all day long at Applebee’s, but a glass of wine with dinner? God forbid. There should be a single court that hears ten minute arguments from average citizens, and decides if laws like this are stupid or not. If you want to challenge the legality of the Federal income tax, you still have to go to the Supreme Court, but if you want to strike an 1885 law that imprisons a woman for leaving her petticoat in the middle of the street from the books, this is the way to do it.
In Other News…
I don’t normally wish ill will on anyone, or at least anyone that hasn’t done ill will upon me directly previously. That being said, I wish someone would find some ties between George Thorogood and something really insidious, like kiddie porn or puppy kicking or something. Anything to get radio stations to stop playing “Bad to the Bone” and that god awful “One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer.”
See, it wouldn’t be enough to load him onto a twin prop plane with Celine Dion, Bette Midler, Star Jones, and Tom Arnold on a foggy, icy, Iowa evening, as the crash would just cement their legacies in the eyes of the world, and the last thing we need is an updated “American Pie” that refers to Star Jones’ fat ass in any capacity.
By the way, I still stand by my statement that there isn’t a female celebrity out there that I wouldn’t pork before sticking it to Star Jones. She’s a rancid sow. I’d bang the rotting corpse of Anne Ramsey before nailing Star Jones. Honestly.
I’m going to find her ties to al-Qaeda sooner or later, I swear to god. Maybe her plastic surgeon is Syrian, and 10% of all her botox money is going back to Osama. Actually, I’m going to flat out call that a fact right now. Star Jones supports al-Qaeda. Lock her up.
I also saw Jeff Foxworthy cackle with glee while burning down an orphanage, but that’s neither here nor there.
I don’t know if anyone’s noticed yet, but I’ve been using Anne Ramsey’s name for awhile now as the standard bearer of ugly, so far as celebrities are concerned. If you don’t remember Anne Ramsey by name, you most certainly remember her as “Momma” in “Throw Momma From The Train,” and as “Ugly Scary Creepy Woman” in “The Goonies.”
Back to Thorogood. I label his garbage “whiteboy dumbass blues.” I don’t think there’s a better label for a guy whose style is simply a blatant ripoff of generations of more talented black musicians before him. I don’t understand how he’s able to get airplay for his tripe, and guys like Albert Collins will never in a million years be played outside satellite or PBS radio.
As a fan of jazz and hip-hop (among other styles), I’ve always been distressed that white people sometimes are better received than the more talented black people who originated the style. Well, maybe not so much in hip-hop, but I’m thinking particularly of jazz figures like Benny Goodman, Tommy Dorsey, Chet Baker (especially fucking Chet Baker), and Stan Getz. Goodman and Dorsey dumbed down jazz music being played by Basie’s and Ellington’s groups, Chet Baker was James Dean (troubled brooding loner style over true substance) before there was a James Dean, and Stan Getz was riding on Miles Davis’ Cool Jazz coattails to – again – dumb down jazz for white people. I’m not saying these guys weren’t talented in their own right, it’s just that they didn’t really innovate on their own to the same level as their black contemporaries, but still sold more, albeit less interesting, albums.
Bill Evans, Dave Brubeck/Paul Desmond, Eminem, Chick Corea (pre-new agey crap), John McLaughlin, Keith Jarrett. There’s your short list of acceptable white guys in jazz and hip-hop. Learn it, live it, love it. Especially Bill Evans.
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Pauly versus BG Week 9 Challenge – EVERYONE CAN PLAY
For this week’s gambling challenge, we’re going to resurrect a little game I like to play called I’M WITH STUPID. To play this game, we need the help of a few or a bunch of you. Here’s how the game works:
Below, you’ll find a questionnaire. The way to win this game is to have the most matches possible on your questionnaire to generate the most points. For example, if a question is “Name an orange vegetable,” and you answer “Carrot,” and so do five others – you get six points. If you’re the only idiot who said “Cabbage,” just because you’re trying to be funny, you get NO points at all.
For Pauly to win, he just has to beat me. That’s all. The rest of you? You’re playing for pride (and to help this game be viable for our gaming purposes).
DO NOT PUT ANSWERS IN THE COMMENTS AREA! Email me your questionnaire by clicking on the little “BG” down on the time/date stamp at the end of this (or any) of my posts.
Ready? Here’s your questionnaire. Remember, you’re trying to give the MOST COMMON ANSWER to the questions…
ONE – Name a fruit you eat from which you don’t eat the seeds.
TWO – Name an NBA team from California
THREE – Name a female celebrity that has had a private sex tape released to the Internet.
FOUR – Name a famous and professional poker player that has written a book.
FIVE – Name a non-burgercentric fast food joint.
SIX – Name a 2004 summer movie that has been (to the best of your knowledge) atop the box office charts.
SEVEN – Name any fighter Sylvester Stallone’s “Rocky” faced in the ring.
EIGHT – Which NFL team will finish 2004-05 with the worst record?
NINE - Who is the best band not named “The Beatles” to come from England in the 60s?
TEN – Name one player besides Chris Moneymaker who made the final table in the 2003 WSOP final.
Again, it’s not necessarily about getting a “right” answer, but about coming up with the most common answer. Good luck!
I’ll Roshambo you for it…
I don’t know how many of you can consider two weekdays (Fri/Mon) with no new content a “hiatus,” but if you’re me you probably can.
So, I’m off hiatus, and there’s a lot I want to get to. It was a reasonably eventful weekend, in that I didn’t just sit at home and play on the computer watching TV for two days. As a matter of fact, I did very, very little of that. I played exactly one hour of PartyPoker, and I’ll get to that later.
I also played a home game (well, technically two home games) on Friday, a mini-golf tournament on Saturday, went to the track, saw one of the best horse races I’ve ever seen unfold on TV, decided I want to move to San Diego, wondered how the Ricky Williams retirement is going to make Fantasy Football more difficult, made kebabs for the family on Sunday, and then got an unexpectedly swift kick in the nuts late that day from which it took me a day to recover.
A figurative kick, not a literal one. And I guess that seems as good a place as any to start.
My mom had some mail for me on Sunday she had been collecting. A missive from MSU looking for cash, my monthly statement on the tail end of a credit line she let me use a couple years ago (which I’m almost through paying off), and two envelopes that I dreaded opening. I knew what was inside without looking.
In June of 2002 I started divorce proceedings against my ex-wife. The first court date went fine, as she was in England and didn’t show up. The second, however, made things messy. Unexpectedly, she found a lawyer. Not just any lawyer, one of those argumentative shrews whose strategy is best illustrated by volume and not substance. Dick. Anyway, I go in to court date #2 expecting to get a default judgment that I felt was fair filed, making the divorce official. Her lawyer gets the judge to schedule another date a few more weeks out.
Cut to July 2002, court date #3. She’s still in England, but her lawyer shows up and starts picking apart the default judgment proposal. He’s trying to put 100% of all debt and everything on my shoulders. He gets my ex on the phone, and she threatens to come back to Michigan to get directly involved in this proceeding, which I know would result in yet another court date, and probably more wasted time, energy, and emotion for me.
So I fell on the sword. I took pretty much everything that was in my name, and then some. I think I ended up with somewhere in the neighborhood of $22,500 in debt, with most of that debt in or teetering on the precipice of collections.
It had been a rough couple of years. Thankfully, my mom did what moms are wont to do, meaning she found a way to help me bail myself out of my predicament. So, in December 2002 she co-signed on a consolidation loan, which wrapped up all my debts into one neat package.
Or, all the debts I knew about at least.
Cut back to Sunday. I’m looking at those envelopes thinking, “I hope it’s just a Dr’s office co-pay or something.” Hardly. Cingular Wireless is coming after me on two separate collections, one for $200, one for $650.
Congratulations on getting your life back together. We held these back initially to make sure you never feel fully in control of your debt again. Fuck you, and I’ll take my $850 right now please.
It was a swift kick in the nuts. There’s no other way to describe it. I could have consolidated these two no problem 18 months ago, but I have a term loan, not a credit line, so I’m stuck.
What else this wrought was the result of my curiosity of getting hit with two collections. Now, maybe I didn’t pay my Cingular bill when they cut me off. That’s a sincere possibility. But there’s no way in hell it ended up at $650. No chance, no how. There’s only one way a phone bill could ring up to that amount.
Multiple, frequent, and long calls overseas.
I don’t have anything to back up this thought right now (I haven’t had the heart to do the research with the creditor yet), but I’m putting the chances of the $650 collection belonging to my ex at about 90%.
So I got on the IM with her and asked her. Did she remember paying off her Cingular account? I reminded her that whether or not my name was on the bill, the divorce decree freed me from the obligation of paying for her phone bills to England (even Mr. Dickhead Lawyer understood that one). She said she does remember paying it.
Liar. Well, what do you expect?
Anyway, I didn’t accuse or anything, just asked the question and explained my circumstance. If I can spin this back onto her, I’ll be happy. Of course, as per usual with our infrequent IM conversations, it all quickly turned into the usual “I’m sorry for screwing up,” and “I’m still pissed off at you” thing.
And after feeling like I was kicked in the balls by the collections, that was an additional emotional drain I just didn’t need yesterday.
So, rather than write another one of my patented Chicken Little “sky is falling / woe is me” posts (yes, I know I wallow from time to time), I took the opportunity yesterday to bitch about it privately to Al and Pauly. Helped me feel a little bit better about things.
Still do have that $850 in collections that came out of nowhere to deal with. But it’s a lot more alright today than it was yesterday.
See you in Del Mar…
Friday night, I tackled PL Omaha Hi in our home game.
Since there were only four of us, we decided to play two $10 games, with the first being Omaha. I’ve gotta say, I really enjoyed it. The PL aspect was cool enough, let alone the Omaha strategy. It wasn’t a long enough game to really digest the nuances appropriately, but I’ve got to say I’m definitely interested and intrigued to play this game more.
PD and I were the final two (of four, big whoop), and in order to get the NLHE portion of the evening started, we cut a deal to give me my buy-in +$5 to play recklessly to end it. Needless to say, as short stack, I was comfortable with making that profit.
The NLHE part was fun. I ended up winning when I outdrew PD on what was a debatable call on his part. I had AQo, he had J4o or something, caught his 4, I bluffed all-in, and he called. There was a King on the board, and he only caught bottom pair, but he did catch. Not a terrible call, but one I probably wouldn’t have made. I did hit my Queen, and he agonized long and hard about it.
Aside from my poor showing in the Sunday 8AM multi, where the cards looked great until the flops hit, that’s all the poker I played all weekend.
And frankly, I’m a better man for it.
Sometimes I spend my weekends like an invalid. I enjoy spending time alone, and don’t mind watching A LOT of TV. But Saturday was our Second Annual Mini-Golf tournament, so that gave me something to do all day.
By the way, I was up SIX STROKES on second place after two rounds. The third was at a course that was ridiculously difficult for putt-putt, and I ended up tied for second, two back of the guy who was behind me after two. If I hadn’t have gotten frustrated and quit (essentially), I would have maybe had a shot at the ugly trophy.
The lowlight of the day came on the hole where the log swings back and forth over the hole. In my normal speaking voice, I said something to the effect of, “I’d have had a two on that hole if it wasn’t for that goddamn log.”
“Excuse me… excuse me!”
Two holes away, I turn and there’s a woman who says, “Would you please watch your language, we have our six year old.”
Man, did that piss me off. First of all, I’m not even sure goddamn is a swear word anymore. Secondly, it was the first time in about thirty minutes of them playing in front of us that anyone had used a “bad word.” Third, none of us were being gross or rowdy, and the potential for us to get really “blue” with our language wasn’t exactly there.
And lady, don’t you think you’re making your kid more interested in the language I used when you make a big goddamn deal about it in front of him?
I really hate it when people bring their warped sense of morality into my world. If I had been really grotesque, or if the language had gotten truly out of control, or if I was humping the log or something, then talk to me. But one barely audible “goddamn” at thirty yards doesn’t deserve a lecture.
That, of course, set me on tilt. But I was mini-golfing poorly anyway.
I went to the track afterwards, and treaded water with my gambling, down only $16 (not including beer and programs) at the end of my time there. I didn’t stick around long enough to bet on a couple of my favorite horses, and would have ended up doubling my money on one, tripling on the other. Ouch.
At least the waitress was hot.
I TiVo’d the John C. Mabee Handicap from Del Mar, a GI filly and mare stakes race on Saturday. Watching ESPN’s coverage convinced me that I need to move to Del Mar (San Diego area) in California. Actually, here’s your seven day forecast for Del Mar from the Weather Channel. 75-78 degrees, sunshine, and zero percent chance of rain in the dead of July? My god man, sign me up! Actually, if you click on “Averages & Records,” you’ll note that there are only four months out of the year where the average temp is below 70, but only a maximum of three degrees below.
And the racing kicks ass too.
In the Mabee, Kent Desormeaux gave Musical Chimes one of the most brilliant trips I’ve ever seen. Around the final turn, the jockeys on the front two horses went to the whip in an attempt to pull away from the pack. But Musical Chimes kept her distance within two lengths of the lead. Desormeaux wasn’t exactly holding her back, but wasn’t even so much as giving her a push. Within the last half furlong, all Kent had to do was nudge her forward, and she just blew away the field. It was unbelievably impressive.
This is what I love about horse racing. Sure, the gambling has a little something to do with it, but sometimes when you see a race unfold like the Mabee and see something special in the horse, ride, or both, it’s really impressive to watch. Granted, most races are simple “turn ‘em out and let ‘em run” events, but at the higher levels, it’s vastly different. It’s a different level of strategy and athleticism, not to mention competition, and these horses are seasoned, smart, and amazingly competitive in nature.
This is the best thirty some-odd days of racing on the whole calendar right now. Del Mar opened up last week, Saratoga this week, and the calendar is packed with major stakes races building up to Breeder’s Cup Saturday.
BC Saturday is thoroughbred racing’s Super Bowl. Yes, the Kentucky Derby (and the Triple Crown hunt) is the media’s darling, but the competition doesn’t get any better than on BC Saturday. Turf races pull the best and brightest from Europe to square off with American turf thoroughbreds. There’s a race for the juveniles, setting the Derby stage for next season. Dirt races are run at a variety of distances, even giving sprinters something to get excited about. And the purses are huge enough to attract every top tier horse healthy enough to run.
You’ll see Smarty Jones, and you might just see him in the Classic against Peace Rules and Funny Cide. I get chills just thinking about that.
These prep races leading to BC Saturday are really worth paying attention to, even for the casual fan. ESPN’s coverage is really quite impressive, as they combine good analysis with the personal “puff piece” sort of journalism that can keep you hooked. One area in which they’ve been excelling lately is getting the trainers pre-race to divulge their horse’s strategy, which creates good anticipation for how the race might unfold. Don’t forget, at these levels this is as much a science as it is a contest of brute speed. It’s an entertaining hour, as laid back as it is informative and interesting, and the races themselves promise to be hotly contested through the late summer and fall.
Not to mention that you can look like a genius to your friends and family if you know a little something about Musical Chimes prior to the BC Fillies and Mares contests.
If my boss were to come to me with $5k and a free week’s vacation, I’d be on the next plane to Del Mar. Hands down, no questions asked.
R, I, C… see you real soon!… K and Y… why? To THROW A FREAKING WRENCH IN FANTASY FOOTBALL, THAT’S WHY
Man oh man, this Ricky Williams retirement is not making fantasy football very easy this year.
Here’s the deal. You make an RB list, and you draw a line right underneath Fred Taylor’s name on it. It should be nine names long, and represents the sum total of the “sure things” at RB this season.
Are there other backs who will be undisputed starters this year? Yes. But are there more than nine backs out there that can be absolutely counted on – barring injury (coughFredTaylorcough) – for 1300+ yards and more than seven TDs? Absolutely not.
Taking Ricky Williams out of that pool does more than devalue just the top tier of running backs. It should also shift draft focus for the first couple of rounds in a different direction.
Look at it this way, you’ve got nine backs in your top tier. Your second tier, all guys that could produce at fundamentally the same level as one another, stays the same size as before Ricky’s retirement. It includes:
B.Westbrook, R.Johnson, D.Davis, T.Henry, C.Dillon, M.Faulk, D.Staley, TJ Duckett, K.Jones, T.Barber, S.Davis, K.Barlow, C.Martin, M.BennettThat’s another fourteen backs, or at least one to go around in most leagues. While there’s a big drop in quality/production from the top tier to the second, there’s only a slight drop to tier three from tier two:
E.George, J.Jones, C.Garner, M.Pittman, L.Suggs, W.Green, C.Brown, T.Jones, M.Shipp, E.Smith, T.Wheatley, W.Dunn, C.Buckhalter, A.Smith, T.Minor, N.Davenport, etcPoint is, if you strike out on the top tier, reassess your draft strategy to make sure you’re not overpaying on the rest of this weakened RB pool.
Take a look at the data. Assuming my league’s scoring system is as good a gauge of performance as anything, let’s look at how these tiers break out by taking the average value of RB worth over the past three years. All data was derived by slot (RB1 in 2001, 2002, 2003), not individual player (Marshall Faulk in 2001, 2002, 2003). It’s up to you to guess as to who should produce in 2004 as the #10, #14, and #35 RBs (and so on) by doing your own preseason rankings.
TOP TIER LEVEL (nine RBs) – Average Value = 399pts/yr – 252pts/yr
Average = 306
SECOND TIER (14 RBs) – Average Value = 238pts/yr – 165pts/yr
Average = 202pts/yr ----- Difference/Game top/bottom* = 5ppg
THIRD TIER** (next 13 RBs) – Average Value = 160pts/yr – 113pts/yr
Average = 138pts/yr ----- Difference/Game top/bottom = 3ppg
*Difference/Game top/bottom is the “pts/yr” value of the top slot of the tier, minus the same value of the bottom slot, divided by 14 games (arbitrary number for total of most FFL games in a season).
**13 RBs were used for Third Tier, as that adds up to 36 total RBs, or two starters, one on the bench, for a twelve team league.
What does the data tell us? Well, assuming these average values represent the most accurate guess we can take for how RB fantasy league performance will shake out, it’s obvious that having a chance to take a top tier RB makes an enormous difference.
If you guess right and pick a top tier back, you’re likely to average 306 points/season of production. If you miss out on a top tier back, it becomes imperative to land two second tier backs, as taking one second and one third tier back instead leaves you, on average, 4.5ppg shy of what you could have had instead.
However, the techniques for drafting in the early rounds and establishing positional priority should be twofold.
First, how can I pick the player available in my slot that will produce the most points for my team? This sounds simple, but is a harder balancing act than it sounds. The short and the long of it is that if you have a line on a top tier back, you need to pull the trigger. That’s Fantasy Football 101 for a reason. But it gets murkier if you’re sitting at the bottom of round one with nine RBs off the board already.
You and I both know that your guess is as good as mine as to who exactly will be the #10 RB at year-end, and who will be #11. This is where it becomes important to secure fantasy points regardless of position. If I’m sitting at #10, there are four picks between my first and second picks (#11/12/12/11), and all nine backs I had at the top are gone, I’m grabbing my top QB in this slot. Point being, you might see four more RBs come off the board over the next four picks, but unless you feel strongly that one stands head and shoulders above the other thirteen in that tier, you should secure the services of the top scorer at another position instead. You’re still landing a solid RB on the way back around, and you’re ensuring (to your best guess) that you’ll have a high scoring Manning or Culpepper to lead your team.
The second draft prioritization technique in early rounds involves establishing an advantage versus your opponents on a position-by-position basis. After pulling the trigger on Manning in round one, I wouldn’t hesitate to take Randy Moss in round two, so long as it didn’t appear that my opponents were creating a shortage of available RBs by engaging in a “run” at the position. If I could get a mid-tier two back, and a high tier three back (by my own estimates) to pair with Manning and Moss, I’d have a distinct advantage at QB and WR1, which could absolutely offset my perceived weakness at RB.
Of course, this second technique doesn’t work well in a league where RBs fly off the draft board like hotcakes, but it’s all part of the balancing act of constructing a winning team.
What most players fail to realize is that the true value of an RB in fantasy football is truly overrated. Except, of course, right at the top. Not only that, but player projections are horribly inaccurate as well. A pleasant surprise, like Domanick Davis, or season-ending injury to a player are impossible to project. Owners frequently put themselves in a position where they sacrifice great players at other positions to teams with top tier RBs in order to grab a risky prospect for their backfield.
Remember, if everyone in a 12 team league takes two RBs before grabbing players at other positions, it’s the teams with Priest Holmes, Ahman Green, and LaDanian Tomlinson that end up with Manning, Moss, and Culpepper.
Bill Simmons @ ESPN
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