It’s Labor Day weekend and you’re at your buddy Phil’s house waiting for the draft to start. Tank, who played a little football in college (and thinks he’s a fantasy genius because of it) is sitting on the couch with his laptop on the coffee table.
Tank: So who did you get to fill in for Doug?
You: He’s my long lost uncle. I met him at our family reunion last month.
Phil: Is he solid?
You: I guess. He told me to let him know if there were any fantasy leagues with spots open. Sounds like he’s a pretty avid player.
Tank: I can’t believe Doug’s wife forbade him to play. That’s ridiculous.
There is a knock on the door. It’s your Uncle Nostradamus.
N: What up, yo?
Tank: Nice beard, man. Rocking the ZZ Top look.
Phil: Thanks for filling in last second.
N: No worries. Where is everyone?
Phil: We’ve got them on speakerphone.
N: Schweet. What’s my pick?
Tank: Well, Doug, a.k.a. the man with no balls, had the #12 pick, so you’re right after me. Wait, don’t you have a cheat sheet or anything?
N: (tapping his head with his hands) It’s all up here, my man.
The draft begins. It gets to Tank’s pick (1.11). He gets excited.
Tank: I can’t pass up Randy Moss here in a PPR league. The guy is money with Brady and he’s in a contract year.
Nostradamus chuckles.
Tank: What?
N: Nothing. Is it my pick?
Phil: Yeah.
For every pick, Nostradamus stands up and proclaims his pick like David Stern at the NBA Draft.
N: With the 12th pick in the first round, I select Arian Foster.
Tank: (chuckles) Foster in the 1st. Are you nuts?
N: Most definitely not. I’m up again right?
Phil: Yep.
N: Is this a PPR league?
You: Yes it is.
N: With the first pick in the second round, I select Roddy White.
Phil: That’s not a bad pick.
Tank: Yeah, but he’s leaving me DeAngelo Williams. Eat it, sucka!
Nostradamus just smirks. The draft proceeds until Tank’s pick in the 3rd round.
Tank: I can’t believe that Ryan Grant slipped this far. I’m going with him.
Nostradamus: Your funeral.
Tank: What?
You: You’re up, uncle.
Nostradamus stands up.
N: With the 12th pick in the third round, I select Darren “DMC” McFadden.
Tank is incredulous.
Tank: His ADP is in like the 9th round! Don’t you think it’s a little early?!?
N: Actually, I considered taking him in the second. With the first pick in the fourth round, I select Jason Witten.
Tank: Witten before Gates? This guy…
Phil: Just let the man make his picks, Tank. You’re up.
Tank: (scans his draft list) I gotta go Chris Wells here. He’s totally primed for a breakout season.
N: Yeah, totally.
The draft proceeds through the fourth and into the fifth round. Nostradamus just sits back in his chair staring at the ceiling, not even paying attention. It’s Tank’s turn.
Tank: I’m thinking tight end here. Let’s go with Jermichael Finley.
Nostradamus has dozed off.
Phil: Hey man, it’s your turn.
N: Oh, what? Sorry. My pick? (stands up) With the 12th pick in the fifth round and the first pick in the sixth round, I select Jeremy Maclin and Mike Wallace.
Tank: Why didn’t you go QB? Kevin Kolb is sitting right there, the QB for one of the most potent offenses in the league and you’re not going to take him? No…no…I should just say thank you and pick him myself. So thank you.
N: You’re welcome.
The sixth and seven rounds proceed and Tank’s up.
Tank: Clinton Portis, baby!
Nostradamus just sighs and stands up, scratching his crotch.
N: With my two picks I select Ahmad Bradshaw and Mike Williams, Tampa Bay.
Tank: The rookie WR on a run-first team with Josh Freaking Freeman throwing the ball? Good luck with that.
Nostradamus just glares at Tank and retrieves a scroll from somewhere on his person.
Tank: Woah, where did you pull that from?
N: I gotta bounce. (he hands you the scroll) Nephew, do me a solid and draft these guys for me.
You: Uh, sure.
Tank snatches the scroll out from your hand.
Tank: Let me see that. He begins to read:
9th — Peyton Hillis
10th — Brandon Lloyd
11th — Michael Vick
12th — Kyle Orton
13th — Stevie Johnson
14th — Mike Tolbert
15th — Deion Branch
16th — Marcedes Lewis
17th — BenJarvus Green-Ellis
18th — Tank’s Momma
Tank: Hey, wait, how’d you…
N: Keep reading.
By the way, I’m going to run without a kicker and a defense for the entire season and still win this league. Eat it.
– N.
Phil: Wait, what’s your team name?
N: How about “Just Got Paid” after the ZZ Top song, in honor of Tank.
Tank: Whatever, dude. My team is going to smoke yours.
N: Care to place a little side wager? Whichever team scores the most points takes the pot?
Tank: You name it.
N: How about $500?
Tank: Let’s make it a grand.
You: Tank, don’t…
Tank puts a hand up.
Tank: I got this.
N: A grand it is. Cha-ching! Later, ladies.
Nostradamus leaves.
Phil: Who is that guy?
Uncle Nostradamus’s final roster:
“Just Got Paid”
QB: Vick, Orton
RB: Foster, McFadden, Hillis, Bradshaw, Tolbert
WR: R. White, Lloyd, Maclin, Wallace, M. Williams (TB), S. Johnson, D. Branch
TE: Witten, M. Lewis
