Well, that's it. We're done. Despite superhuman efforts from nearly everyone on the roster, The Snow Flurries of NORTH Michigan are not going to the postseason dance. Oh, we'll still be dancing, don't worry about that- it'll just be of the middle school variety. (technically, at the time of this publishing, there is still a puncher's chance at winning the game. I just need Michael Crabtree to score 36 points tonight, which would be half of what he has scored for the entire season).
It was a taxing season, to be sure. From the apparent death of Ryan Grant, to Tony Romo breaking his clavicle (what is a clavicle, really? Is that a member of the woodwind family?), my roster was never fully operational, and unfortunately they don't give fantasy points for heart. And now my season, smashed on the rocks, torn and beaten and stampeded (with a 2-5 division record to boot), has nothing to play for. Pride? Please. We spent the last nine weeks playing for pride, while also fighting desperately for a miracle shot at the playoffs. A shot that fell short. Way short.
Understand, this is not being written in bitterness or scorn. It's actually a bit of a relief, actually. Like putting down an old dog, the Snow Flurries have been fighting with everything they have just to reach a point where we could maybe be a playoff qualifier. It gets to a point where you have to say "I've forgotten what I started fightin' for".
We overcame injuries, and some terribly bad roster moves by me and nearly battled back to .500 on a couple occasions. I'm so proud of my team- and if I could draft this team as is for next season, I probably would. Actually, scratch that- I would have drafted much better. But perhaps more so than good drafting, being a champion in fantasy football involves luck, avoiding injuries (read: more luck), and having favorable match-ups (read: even more luck), and the chips simply did not fall my way this year.
Even though my fantasy season is over, my blogs about my fantasy season are not. After all, there is no way I could let you get out of reading my second half synopsis, transaction report, and final player grades. And I know you wouldn't want to, even if you could.
It was a taxing season, to be sure. From the apparent death of Ryan Grant, to Tony Romo breaking his clavicle (what is a clavicle, really? Is that a member of the woodwind family?), my roster was never fully operational, and unfortunately they don't give fantasy points for heart. And now my season, smashed on the rocks, torn and beaten and stampeded (with a 2-5 division record to boot), has nothing to play for. Pride? Please. We spent the last nine weeks playing for pride, while also fighting desperately for a miracle shot at the playoffs. A shot that fell short. Way short.
Understand, this is not being written in bitterness or scorn. It's actually a bit of a relief, actually. Like putting down an old dog, the Snow Flurries have been fighting with everything they have just to reach a point where we could maybe be a playoff qualifier. It gets to a point where you have to say "I've forgotten what I started fightin' for".
We overcame injuries, and some terribly bad roster moves by me and nearly battled back to .500 on a couple occasions. I'm so proud of my team- and if I could draft this team as is for next season, I probably would. Actually, scratch that- I would have drafted much better. But perhaps more so than good drafting, being a champion in fantasy football involves luck, avoiding injuries (read: more luck), and having favorable match-ups (read: even more luck), and the chips simply did not fall my way this year.
Even though my fantasy season is over, my blogs about my fantasy season are not. After all, there is no way I could let you get out of reading my second half synopsis, transaction report, and final player grades. And I know you wouldn't want to, even if you could.
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