|My best player, probably.|
Anyway, my team is a dumpster fire, and I have the firefighting skills of a dentist. Here, let me add some Novocaine named Prince Fielder to that blaze. What could go wrong?
I love basketball. I watch way too much of it. I'd watch every single NBA game if I had the time. So I'd love to see the basketball equivalent of my team. It's probably chock full of Alexy Shveds and Luigi Datomes. I have no idea. Compare that to the amount of baseball I watch, and its like starting the Scripps Howard Spelling Bee champ at center for the Chicago Bulls in the NBA Finals. Good at spelling words, bad at backing down Tim Duncan in the low post.
I do have some guy named Jake Marisnick, but he could honestly be a hot dog vendor at Minute Maid Park for all I know. And who is Luke Gregerson? That sounds like a legit fake name. Yet, he's pitching for me on a fairly regular basis.
I also managed to draft that rat-looking bum Hunter Pence, who hasn't played an inning this season thanks to an injury. Yep, the guy that looks like Marv from Home Alone is just wasting a roster spot, along with Yasiel Puig, (who I drafted because I occasionally watch SportsCenter in the morning, and I think he had a top play once) and David Wright. More like David Wrong, get it? My DL is packed like the moving boxes outside of Ndamukong Suh's house in December.
However, my greatest fear is cutting one of these hobbled baseball men and overhearing someone say, "Can you believe that (player I just cut for Nate Cornejo) is a free agent? It just doesn't make sense, especially from a wRC perspective! Total head scratcher." I'd rather stand pat with this abysmal team than make some drastic trade to get Placido Polanco for dollars on the penny.
So instead of pretending to know what I'm doing while I wallow in the shame of baseball illiteracy, I'm going to put my team on the auction block and open the bidding. I hope to run the first crowd-sourced fantasy team in history. I spent no time researching that, so it's probably inaccurate.
$1 to have full control of my team's lineup for a day. Sit Matt Holliday. Start the hot dog vendor. Up to you.
$5 to change my team's name or logo for a month. $8 for the set. "Aaron's team presented by Lakeside Collision" has a nice ring to it. One of those classic baseball names.
$10 for me to post an ad for your small business on the league's message board. "I'm looking for an outfielder with some steals, if anyone wants to make a deal, sponsored by the new variation of a meatball sub at participating Subway® Restaurants. Subway®, Eat Fresh.™"
$5 to include your company's name and URL in the "notes" section of any trade I make in the next 30 days. "Great deal! This was mutually beneficial, just like a routine oil change at Madge's Muffler Emporium! Enter the promo code "CIGARETTES" at www.madgesmufflers.com to save 5% on your next tire rotation!"
$15 to have full control over my team for the rest of the season. However, if we finish in the bottom 4 spots, you pay me back $16. That's called an incentive. Those who don't work, don't eat.
$100 to buy my team outright, no questions asked. Do whatever you want with it. Light it on fire and throw fireworks in it. Cut everyone and only sign guys named Steve. Trade whoever my best player is for Ugueth Urbina. Drive it into the Mississippi River and file it as an insurance claim. It's all up to you, highroller.
If anyone is serious, get your people in touch with my people and they can get down to brass tacks and hammer out the deets (that's lawyer-speak). In the mean time, I'll be trying to decipher some rudimentary baseball statistics on Rotowire, and inevitably sign someone playing in Japan. Or worse, Minnesota.
By Aaron Brandt, the Billy Beane of fantasy baseball in an alternate reality where getting the lowest score is the goal, Shamu has free will and Amanda Bynes is the president.