(WARNING: THE FOLLOWING COLUMN IS PRETTY LONG, AND WILL APPEAL ONLY TO FANTASY FOOTBALL ENTHUSIASTS. ALL OTHERS MAY WISH TO VACATE THE PREMISES.)

First, let me apologize for the tardiness of this latest issue, #6 in the Sports Rag's semi-brief history.

Like many of you, I'm sure, I spent the end of August and beginning of September busily preparing for my fantasy football draft…a.k.a. the sole reason for male humans to exist on the planet Earth.

So I was utterly indisposed. Locked into a dark room like some pasty, near-suicidal M.I.T grad student. Glued to my computer. (Fantasy football magazines blow, as you no doubt know. Note to magazines: Terry Glenn is not on the Pats, Ricky Williams is no longer on the Saints, and Abe Vigoda is not even a football player, let alone living.) Pouring over mock drafts, rankings, schedules, spreadsheets, analyzing cholesterol levels and stool samples of virtually every player in the NFL. Looking for any little mental or physical defect that might hinder a player's offensive production and keep him off my team.

And please don't ask how I got ahold of the stool samples…you simply do not want to know.

While draft prep took up nearly every waking minute of my time, my arraignment and trial for that little incident at Comiskey Park was an unexpected time-killer. (Sidenote: if you're ever at a White Sox-Royals game, and you've had one too many tugs at the old homemade, coonskin corn liquor flask, and your dad says, "Hey boy, I had a great idear: let's take these-here shirts off, grab our pocket knives, and go do some rasslin' with that-there uppity, senior citizen first base coach"…just politely decline. Trust me. I'm still pulling Carlos Beltran's spikes out of my scalp.)

Anyway, since the Sports Rag staff had to work second jobs to raise my bail and stay up all night preparing my defense, Issue #6 was unfortunately delayed. But we're back, and even though we've just passed Week Four, I'm still on that "new football season" high, which might explain why I've decided to share with you a rundown of my draft, which took place a month ago.

So here it is.

(Sidenote: at the end of this thing, I'll ask you to email your own funny draft stories, and the best ones will be used in an upcoming issue.)


My Draft: A Musical Tribute

My draft preparation began one late Sunday evening last February, roughly three minutes after Adam Vinatieri’s game-winning field goal sailed through the uprights. It didn’t begin right away because I was busy using those three minutes to hop up and down and squeal like an excited little girl in the "American Idol" audience. Hugging my family and friends - all of us long-suffering Pats fans. Spilling my Sam Adams (had to drink a Patriotic beer for good karma, didn't I?). More or less just spastically flailing around my sister’s living room like I was a) on fire or b) suffering some sort of demonic possession. It was a memorable, thrilling, and yet somewhat shameful display….especially my estrogen-laced squealing.

But once the hooting and hollering died down, and my voice regained its normal, semi-manly octave level, my thoughts immediately turned to the following football season. Yes, September, 2002 was a long way off. Yes, the world would have to suffer through another few hellish months of Shaq & Kobe, Bud Selig & Donald Fehr, and, worst of all, Paula Abdul & Justin Guarini. But the NFL was already top-of-mind.

(Sidenote: is it me, or is Justin Guarini the unholy, mutant offspring of Michael Jackson and Richard Simmons? At the very least, he’s a lock for the lead role if Broadway ever does "Sexually Ambiguous Boy Doll: The Raggedy Andy Story.")

Yes, fantasy football was out there, just waiting. And in the months that followed, I began to mentally prepare for Draft Night. So what if it was 210 days, 5 hours, and 37 minutes away? It's Draft Night! I mean, I don’t have to tell you guys that draft night is Christmas, Thanksgiving, and your best friend's bachelor party in Vegas all rolled into one. You know that. If you don’t, please stop reading, slowly back away from the computer, and go pick out some window treatments.

So, as a reluctant musical tribute to the "American Idol" gang -- Simon "I don’t know I’m gay yet, but I am" Cowell, Randy "A bag of ham sandwiches has more personality" Jackson, Paula "I really should lay off the ether" Abdul -- I’d like to take you through my fantasy draft, giving each round a musical title.

And since it took place a few weeks ago, I'll provide a 20-20-hindsight update of the picks.

(Oh, in the meantime, if one of you hunts down and savagely beats those two hosts of "American Idol," the unprecedentedly-annoying Brian Dunkelman and the even more annoying blonde guy, I'd be one happy fake sports news-e-zine-thing-whatever-we-are Editor.)

Before I start, some basics:
12-team league. Re-draft. Performance scoring, plus bonuses for TDs over 30 yards and 100/300 yard games. Translation: RBs are still a priority, but stud QBs and WRs score very heavily.
Start 1 QB, 2 RB, 2 WR, 1 TE, K, D/ST.
Through a trade, I had four of the first 26 picks: #8, #17, #23, #26 in rounds 1 thru 3, but none in 4 and 5. It was the price I paid to stock up early.
The top seven picks were Faulk, Warner, Garcia, Green, Alexander, Ricky, Owens….

ROUND 1 – "Anarchy in the U.K," The Sex Pistols
No, my first pick was not Sid Vicious, Baby Spice, or Prime Minister Tony Blair. I chose this song because it’s a punk song, appropriate for the punk I chose at 1.8: Randy Moss. Incorrigible, mercurial, prone to smashing something or pouting if he gets upset? Yes. The skillz to treat DBs like scared little children and possibly haul in 1,600+ yards and 20 TDs? Absolutely. After Ricky and Owens went #6- #7, I seriously debated Priest at #8, but Moss’ long TDs and 100 yard games, and Tice’s "Randy ratio" game plan, were just too hard to resist. And I won the league with him as a rookie back in ’98, so "Reunited" by Peaches & Herb would also be appropriate here. UPDATE: Through the first three weeks, the Randy Ratio has held true. He did ok against Chicago, blew up in the Buffalo game, disappeared in the Carolina game. Overall though, Moss will still rock this year, I'm betting. Me happy. What? He just drove over a rent-a-cop and had wacky-tabacky in his ashtray? Oh shit…stay tuned.

ROUND 2a – "Learn to Fly," Foo Fighters
Dillon, Eddie and Edge were available. But to my shock, there was a player there at 2.5 (#17) who I expected to go at least at #11. He makes his living by flying through the air better than anyone not named Moss or Owens: Marvin Harrison. Peyton, Daunte, Priest, CuMart, LDT, ATrain, McNabb, Boston all went before him. Now, I have never, ever taken two WRs to start a draft, but the value here could not be ignored. I now had the best WR corps in the league hands-down, and those two alone could win me some games. Screw the stud RB theory. Accidentally or not, I was now a stud WR guy. Marvin in the AFC South? Fuggedaboudit. My team would be a high-flying Blue Angels show the likes of which this league has never seen before. Opponents, fasten your seat belts. UPDATE: After being overshadowed by Qadry "Vulture" Ismail in game one, Marvin blew up in game two with 144 yds and a score. Still shocked he slipped to #17. Eddie is hurting. Dillon is inconsistent. Edge is getting yards, but few scores. The Marvin pick is looking good.

ROUND 2b – "Are You Experienced?" Jimi Hendrix
Having taken two WRs, I was rolling the dice that a proven commodity like Eddie, Dillon or Edge (ACL be damned) would drop to me at 2.11 (#23 overall). They didn’t. But that was ok, because there was a young, not-so-experienced fella available there who has the talent and the offense around him to top all of those RBs by year’s end. And they call him Deuce. Can you say "this year’s Priest Holmes?" To hell with experience. Haslett’s no idiot, and he didn’t ship Ricky off to Miami without knowing he had a RB whose moves are as electric, unstoppable, and mystifying as any voodoolicious Hendrix burning-guitar solo at Monterrey. Hopefully, Deuce won’t choke on his own vomit in a bathtub anytime soon and I’ll be set at #1 RB. Oh, and "voodoolicious" is not in Webster's. Don't bother looking it up. UPDATE: Can you say "better than last year's Priest Holmes"? Knock on wood, but through three weeks, other than a pedestrian showing against a tough Bears D, Deuce looks more powerful than people thought, faster than they already knew he was, and capable of 150 yards and two TDs every single game. It's early in our relationship, but I think I want to marry him.

ROUND 3 – "Oops, I Did It Again," Brittany Spears
With my 3.2 (#26 overall), having gone WR-WR-RB, I needed another RB to round out my top four. Antowain was there, but I rarely, if ever, pick Patriots. Superstitious, I guess. Stephen Davis was there, but he’s risky in that Spurrier offense. But there was a third RB there -- an evil crack-rock-of-a-back, saying "Pssst, hey kid, go ahead,try it, you know you want me, even though I could destroy your life." I felt the evening’s first beads of sweat form on my brow. I’d picked this guy every year since 1998. I wouldn’t do it again, would I? But my eleven fellow owners knew I was addicted, and they grinned like wolves, leaned forward on their seats, took a few greedy sips of Bud Light, and got ready to launch into drunken hyena laughter the second I uttered the name. And before I could stop myself I said it: "Fred Taylor." The room exploded, the hyenas attacked. (I’m genetically conditioned to draft Fred Taylor. Does anyone have any medicine for this?) I spent the next few minutes calmly defending my pick by repeating my mantra for this 2002 season, "He’s in a contract year, he blows up in even-numbered years, he was on my juggernaut ’98 championship team with Moss." My friend Shergul summed it up best when he leaned over and said, "You might have just won the league with that pick…or you totally rat-fucked yourself." Thanks, Dr. Obvious. I’m keeping the faith that it’s the former. UPDATE: Through 2 weeks and a bye, Taylor is looking to be back to his old self. The healthy one, that is. Knock on wood. Light prayer candles. Like Shergul said, if he stays healthy, I could steamroll to the title. If not, well, something about a rodent and fornication rings true.

ROUND 6a – "I Am a Rock," Simon and Garfunkel
I had a long wait between #26 and #65 (no 4th and 5th round picks, remember). I fought the urge to start drinking heavily because I wanted to stay sharp for my next crucial picks. So I ate cold pizza, crossed off names, and gave the hyena treatment to a) the owner who drafted Trent Green in the 5th after he’d drafted Griese in the 4th and only had one RB and b) to the owner who took Plummer in the 4th. Oh, and I also repeatedly called the beeper number of the guy whose wife might be going into labor any minute, just to throw him off his game. It worked. He took Thomas Jones in the 4th. When #65 rolled around, I needed the best RB available in case Fragile Fred injured his uterus again. I needed backup, support – in short, a rock. And I chose the guy with the dreaded "U" word: Upside. Kevan Barlow. Please, when you’re done with this, go stick a needle into your Garrison Hearst doll's ankle. UPDATE: Barlow is still splitting time, but looks better of the two SF backs, posted 94 yds and a score on 13 carries last week, and should begin to break away from Hearst and emerge mid-season. And if Hearst goes down, he's this year's Shaun Alexander. Now, where's my Hearst voodoo doll and that Santeria high priestess?

ROUND 6b – "Time To Change," The Brady Six
"When it’s time to change, you’ve got to rearrange." That’s what the Bradys – including puberty-ridden, crackly-voiced Peter – so eloquently sang all those years ago. And with 2 WRs and 3 RBs in my stable, I had to nab my starting QB right now if I didn’t want to be left with a choice of Sage Rosenfels, the exhumed corpse of Jim Thorpe, or Dr. Ruth Westheimer. The two guys in front of me (bastards!) grabbed Griese and Kordell. But that’s when the Brady song hit me, and I knew the next guy on my list (ironically not named Brady) had undergone the biggest changes lately: new team, new explosive weapons, new incentive to prove everyone wrong, new beginning. Of course, I’m talking about Drew Bledsoe. I’m not expecting him to be a top 5, but top 10 isn’t out of the question. And with the rest of my team looking fairly solid, all he has to do is play a support role. Here’s to change, Drew. And to 55-yard TD bombs to Moulds & Price. UPDATE: I can't believe I was upset not getting those total stiffs, Griese or Kordell. Drew week 2: 463 yards, 3 TDs, no INTs. I was right. He isn't top 5 in passing…he's freakin' NUMBER ONE! So far anyway. If Deuce turns down my impending marriage proposal, Drew's my fallback. He'll at least be best man.

ROUNDS 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 – "Who Are You?" The Who
As you all know, once you’ve tabbed your starters, the remaining rounds are all about picking the best possible reserves despite the beer now flowing through your system like Colorado River rapids. Sleepers, rookies, unknowns, roster flotsam and jetsam, you know the drill.

7th – Tiki (Good bye week starter, despite having a head that's wayyyyyy too freakishly big for his body.).

8th – Galloway (Sleeper WR, injuries behind him, only Cowboy not to ham it up for the camera on "Hard Knocks," which I respected.)

9th – Couch (Serviceable backup to Drew. Unfortunately, he has the same bye week. I’d clearly started drinking by this point.)

10th – Heap (Best TE available. Skillz to be top 10. Hopefully his Pop Warner QB can get him the ball). UPDATE: Poor Heap. Raven offense is worse than the Orioles. Dropped him for SF free agent TE Eric Johnson.

11th – Koren Robinson (Keep on bench until Dilfer returns, watch him have a few atypical huge games, trade him.).

12th -- Tony Richardson (TD vulture. No other reason. Hm, maybe Priest goes down?) UPDATE: Dropped Richardson for flavor of week WR, Quincy Morgan. Who knows, Q could pan out. UPDATE ON UPDATE: Dropped one-week-wonder Q. Morgan for former "Alice" star Linda Lavin.

13th – Vanderjagt (Top 3 kicker. But that’s enough about kickers.)

14th – Miami D/ST (Surtain + Madison = INT points. Still, won’t root for the ‘Fins unless there's an Uzi being held against my temple.)

15th – Curtis Keaton (Deuce insurance. Might as well have taken Diane Keaton, but what the hell? I was clearly drunk by then.)

So that’s that: the 2002 version of the Sports Rag Fantasy Squad. Sadly, the draft (a.k.a. Christmas Day/Bachelor Party) is a month old by now. But I have a new present to play with, one that I can hopefully wind up and let fly for miles and miles (another Who reference) in the form of Moss, Harrison, Deuce, and Iron Man Fred Taylor. But bottom line: it all hinges on Fragile. Which is a scary, scary thought. At least as scary as "American Idol II: Battle of the Androgynous, Frosted-Haired, Future Singing Waiters." UPDATE: I'm 2-2, losing a close match in Week 1, going Pulp Fiction medieval on my opponent in Week 2, losing thanks to Taylor's bye and Moss' Houdini act in Week 3, and riding Drew and Taylor to victory in Week 4. Bring on week five…..

Oh, and good luck to each and every one of you this fantasy season. May your theme song be "We Are the Champions" and not "Manic Depression."

Especially you pathetic, addicted fellow Fred Taylor owners.


NOTE: Please email your own draft/early season fantasy football true stories -- the funnier, the better -- to editor@thesportsrag.com. Bad draft picks. Bad draft behavior. Bad in-season smacktalk. Bad moves. Bad hair. Whatever….The best ones will be used in an upcoming issue.

The Editor during late-summer hiatus.

So, what would be the result of the unholy sexual coupling of Richard Simmons and Michael Jackson?

Chart-topping supergroup/inspiration for Editor’s 6th pick, The Brady Six.

The Editor’s last draft pick, a Golden Globe-winning actress.