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Why do I even bother to play fantasy football? More often than not, I find myself trailing by just enough going into Monday night to give me a Charlie Brown “this time I’m gonna kick the football” complex, only to have Lucy yank it away. I spend way too much time on Tuesday scouring the waiver wire and coming up with trades so ludicrous than I’m too embarrassed to send them. I root for players that are on my beloved Giants’ fiercest and most hated rivals (seriously, how the hell did I end up with THREE Cowboys on my team? That’s like playing Fantasy World War II and starting Josef Mengele. )

(Well, you get the idea…)

I get depressed. I get anxiety-ridden. I pace the floors. I scream out loud. I am a bitter human being to be around for my family. (My wife takes the kids out on Sunday – she says it’s so I can have some “peace and quiet” while I watch the games… but I’m pretty sure it’s the missus and two offspring who need the break.)

Speaking of family, I’m in a fantasy league with my brother, Dan. Our battles often mean more than the league standings itself. This is Army-Navy, Jets-Giants and Mets-Yankees all rolled into one. This is SBRB (Sergott Bragging Rights, Baby!). A victory can salvage even a mediocre season. A loss… well, such things are too unsavory to mention.

This past Sunday, that time of the year had finally come ‘round: my brother Dan and I squaring off – a battle of two 2-2 teams looking to put together something after a terribly uneven first quarter of the season.

Let me set the stage for Sunday’s contest…

Woo Hoo! I am football-savvy enough to sit one of my superstars, Calvin Johnson, given his matchup (Pitt) and his health concerns.
D’oh! I am unlucky enough to start Mike Sims-Walker, he of the unconscious play of late… and he who ended up “not dressing due to a violation of team policy.” Upon hearing this news (one minute before kickoff), my face melted like the German Commander who stared too long at the Ark of the Covenant.

Woo Hoo! I am football savvy enough to sit Willis “Stick a For in Him” McGahee, who notches -2 rushing yards and 4 receiving yards on the day.
D’oh! I start Marion Barber, who runs like he… well, like he has a really bad strained quad, plays for a team of undisciplined morons (see: Adams, Flozell) and whose coach won’t use him in goal line situations (where he’s the… what’s the word I’m trying to think of… oh yeah: SPECIALIST).

Woo Hoo! My parents are out visiting for the week. This is good because my Dad was there last year when I played my brother and was my own personal good luck charm (I beat the pants off Dan, 64-25)
D’oh! My Dad isn’t so lucky this time around… and I listen to him chastise my players (and lack thereof) for seven hours. Good times.

Woo Hoo! I had first half Larry Fitzgerald.
D’oh! I had second half Larry Fitzgerald.

So… outside of learning that my team sucks, my life is devoid of hope and/or lucky breaks, and that my early-season George Steinbrenner-like trading spree has left me with some critical gaps on my squad, here are a few other choice observations I made this weekend…

After Reviewing the Play…

My Dad walks into my office at 10:15 am complaining, “Hey – something’s wrong with your TV. I can’t get any games.” When I explain to him that it’s Saturday, he looks at me with his head cocked to the side, like a dog wondering why you won’t share your last piece of pizza crust. Yep… retirement, ladies and gentlemen! Where date and time have no meaning!

Oakland is wicked bad, as they might say in New England. The Red Zone’s Andrew Siciliano has the best early line of the day, after the Giants score their second touchdown: “Is it safe to say that we have our first final of the day?” Yes, Andrew… yes it is. To paraphrase the great Warner Wolf: “If you had the Raiders and 36 ½ points, you LOST!”

Speaking of which, good to see the Giants using Ahmad Bradshaw in goal line situations this week… considering (a) Brandon Jacobs looks god-awful this year and (b) was never good at the goal line to begin with. Ever. I hope this is a sign of things to come.

My Dad doesn’t get this whole fantasy football thing, nor the absolutely necessary Red Zone Channel required to follow it. When the channel shows highlights of our beloved Giants going up 14-0, he grunts his first complaint of the morning: “Why aren’t we watching that game!?”

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It’s almost as if the Rams got pissed off that Oakland was getting pummeled by the Giants. They responded by playing a little game I like to call “How many ways can we turn it over in the red zone?”

The answer: three.

• Stephen Jackson fumble at the Minnesota 1 with 12 minutes to play in the 2nd Quarter
• Daniel Fells fumbles on a 2nd-and-6 from the Minnesota 8 yard line
• Kyle Boller intercepted on the Minnesota 9 yard line – going for it on 4th down

Oh, and that doesn’t include Boller essentially handing it off to the Vikings Jared Allen, who returned it for a TD.

Not to be outdone, JaMarcus Russell declares “you don’t know what crappiness is!!” and proceeds to fumble the ball away three times by himself.

****

My Dad is clearly pissed we’re not watching the Giant game full time, as he starts taunting me every time we see my brother’s point total soar on the computer. It’s not too annoying, since the score is still pretty close. Of course, the day is still quite young.

“I’ll tell you who’s good… that Steve Smith (of the Giants),” my Dad piped in. “You have him?”

I tug at my t-shirt collar, Dangerfield-style. “I…uh…I traded him.”

My Dad’s eyes widen in surprise. “You traded him? Why? That guy is good.”

****

By the way, Winston Wolf called and told me not to get so high on Joe Flacco just yet. Before the game started, I tell my Dad: “At least I have Joe Flacco today… or as I like to call him: The Next Joe Montana.”

With just about two and a half minutes to go in the first quarter, Flacco is intercepted.

Dad: “I don’t remember Montana ever playing like that…”

****

Meanwhile, Carolina continues to fall apart, as does John Fox’s confidence in his team. Even with Albert Haynesworth out, he opts not to go for it on 4th and inches.

Y’know, when your short line game is based on a hard count, that’s not too good.

****

My Dad doesn’t get this whole fantasy football thing, Part II.

Watching me type non-stop while watching the games, he asks: “What the hell do you keep typing?”

“I’m texting Dan… I also use some of our texts as notes for my Tuesday column,” I respond.

“Hmmm… “ he says, suddenly seeing the value of this whole fantasy thing: “Ask him if he picked up my mail.”

****

Rashard Mendenhall is running wilder than Hulkamania right now. Sure, you have to wonder if his time will get cut back when Not-so-fast Willie Parker returns… but if you were TBDFH (the black dude from House), wouldn’t you stay with the hot hand?

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Apparently, Cleveland and Buffalo played this weekend. No, really. I’m as surprised as you are.

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My Dad’s comments aren’t as funny once the rout begins. Not that I don’t mind being asked if I own every single player in the NFL after they score a touchdown.

“Do you have Wes Welker?”   “No, dad.”   “How come?”

“Do you have Roddy White?”   “No, Dad.”   “How come?”

“Do you have Tim Hightower?”   “No, Dad.”   “How come?”

“Do you have Roddy White?”   “Nope, Dad… still don’t since the last time you asked.”   Finally annoyed that I’m annoyed, Dad grunts: “Well, who DO you have?”

****

The only thing worse than that was my Dad finding out I had Glen Coffee. First came the riffs on his name. “Wow, that Coffee is hot.” “Coffee is really grinding it out today.” “I smell some Coffee comin’…”

[Not to be outdone, Joe Buck’s comments are worse than my Dad’s. After Tashard Choice scored for Dallas: “And it’s clear that Tashard Choice should be the choice for Dallas right now at running back.” As a reminder, Joe Buck gets paid to do this, while my Dad is simply old and goofy.]

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Speaking of Dallas, don’t get too excited about the Miles Austin explosion. Roy Williams was out, Marion Barber was running poorly, and the KC secondary quit when Priest Holmes was still running the ball. Don’t waste a waiver wire option on him.

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Seriously, by the time we got to ”That Coffee turned out to be pretty damned weak,” I was breaking out my medical marijuana.

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How good did it feel to watch 49ers CB Dre Bly get caught from behind while celebrating his interception. Did he really think he was scoring on that? And call me crazy, but just a tip: when celebrating, you might want to wait until you get past the 50 yard line…

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Is it too early to start panicking over Calvin Johnson yet? He’s been hurt two weeks in a row. Defense are swarming all over him. He’s back to having Daunte Culpepper throwing to him. I need him to heal during his bye in Week 7 and show me something substantial against a soft spot in the schedule (Seattle and St. Louis) in weeks 8 and 9.

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If I had to pick up five guys this week, they’d be:

• QB: Matt Hasselbeck – Looked great last week. And has Arizona this week.
• RB: Ahmad Bradshaw – Although it’s more for really crappy matchups (like Oakland) and insurance in case Jacobs goes down. You can’t bank on one Giants RB. But he’s the best out there right now.
• WR: Braylon Edwards – Between the Sanchez trade and this one, hard not to envision the Browns as Marcellus Wallace and the Jets as Zed.
• WR: Nate Burleson – See: Bald QB, Seattle
• TE: Heath Miller – Now second in the league in receptions among tight ends.

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Anyway, well played, Dan. Until we meet again in Week 12.

Thanks for the visit, Dad. It was fun – and made this week’s column infinitely easier to write.

To everyone else, I hope your fantasy weekend was better than mine.

Until next week…