Fantasy Dream Team – Week 1. If you have three Fulham players in your squad, you’re probably not very good at this game.
When we made our fantasy teams last week, most of us were just shooting in the dark. How can you really build a title winning fantasy side if you haven’t seen anyone play? Can anyone really say ahead of time whether Robin van Persie will have a better season than Marouane Chamakh? It’s too close to call. So we all did our best and slapped together a squad assembled largely from guesswork, homer bias, and duct tape.
But hindsight is 20/20, and after this weekend’s matches, I think it’s safe to say we have a pretty good idea what to expect from the rest of the season. After the jump, I’ll share with you the keen fantasy insights I gleaned from the first round of games and tell you just who you absolutely must buy if you want to stand a chance at winning this thing.
The now-defunct Fire Joe Morgan was a brilliant website famous for skewering the worst in sports “journalism”. Their legacy has been carried on in many places, including by the hilarious folks at Kissing Suzy Kolber and our fine friends over at Unprofessional Foul.
They say if you’re gonna steal, steal from the best, so here is our loving homage to the brilliant work that’s come before us as we give a hearty fuck you to some serious journalistic garbage.
“Don’t try and improve upon what the world has given you. I was born looking like a penis wearing glasses, so I just sorta ran with it. I hope it comes through in my writing.”
This weekend The Guardian published some delightful bullshit on the sacking of Harry Redknapp. In his article assholishly entitled “Delusions of grandeur haunt the men running Tottenham Hotspur“, David Conn wags his finger at Spurs and condescendingly chastens Daniel Levy for daring to want better than his god-ordained place in the world. The article appears below in bold. Our comments follow in plain text.
Come on Jose! It’s not gay if I leave my underwear on.
Euro 2012 has already seen a couple incidents of racial abuse, first during a Dutch training session and then directed at Czech right back Theodor Gebre Selassie.
But now it’s time to pull out your bigotry bingo cards and check off homophobia. All we need now is a little misogyny and anti-semitism and we’ll be all set.
The season’s finally over, innit, so now I can focus on me proper job.
Oi, ‘Arry Redknapp ‘ere.
Right. First of all, I want ta fank the FA for givin’ me this chance ter manage me country. It’s a right proper honor.
After Sven, that weird Dutch bloke, and Don Fabio, it’s about time England were managed by a proper Englishman an’ not some Johnny Foreigner.
It looks like all the uvver national team managers are namin’ their squads, so I betta’ name me own before they take all the top lads. Try and out wheel-and-deal me, eh? Not bloodly likely.
After going to all the trouble last week of “researching” all the teams, I was pumped to actually get to watch some MLS action on opening weekend. But when I tuned in on Saturday I discovered to my great dismay that not a single match was televised. Ouch. What a slap in the face, television. But surely I was mistaken. There must be games on. How could MLS be a real sport if the season opener can’t even get on television? Impossible!
So I got out my pipe and deerstalker hat and went to MLS’s website to see if I could solve this mystery. Through my brilliant detectivising skills I managed to sniff out the TV schedule. Here’s what I found:
None of these matches actually occurred.
That’s right. MLS’s own website had every single match-up listed incorrectly. THANKS FOR THE HELP, GUYS!
Presumably MLS is actively trying to reduce its viewership to appease its core hipster fanbase. Maintstream is teh suck. And their devious ploy was successful, because even if matches were aired on TV, I certainly missed them all. Well done hipsters, you’ve won this round.
But I was not to be deterred.
For those of you don’t know, yesterday was the BIGGEST NIGHT IN MOVIES. That’s right, it was the flurbbidy-fourth annual Academy Awards, hosted by a totally still relevant Billy Crystal! And what a grand affair it was, honoring many films that reminded the old white men of the Academy of the halcyon days of their youth when movies were silent and blacks were servants. There were many memorable moments, such as Angelina Jolie’s awkwardly displayed leg, J-Lo’s exposed, off-center areola, and Billy Crystal in blackface.
It was very convincing makeup.
So what does all this have to do with soccer? Probably nothing. But people will probably be googling shit about the Oscars like all day, and we’re desperate to capitalize on the potential internet traffic. OSCARS J LO NIPPLE SLIP SACHA BARON COHEN KIM JONG IL ASHES JUSTIN BIEBER. Now that we’re officially search engine optimized, check below to find out what the point of this post actually is. Or don’t. I don’t care. YOU’RE ALREADY HERE AND THE SOLID GOLD INTERNET HITS ARE ALREADY OURS.
Even the hotel's parking attendants are committed to providing an authentic Liverpool experience.
Are you a Liverpool fan looking to get away from it all? Are you dying to explore the exotic locales of the South Pacific? But do you hate the thought of leaving your beloved home behind? Well now you can find the perfect getaway at the Hotel Stevie G in Indonesia!
When Aaron Ramsey scores, someone dies. Since May of last year Aaron Ramsey has scored four goals for Arsenal. And murdered four innocent people.
"Do I look like someone who would kill innocent people for fun?"
Last Thursday,Whitney Houston went about her day, minding her own business, just living her ordinary humdrum life while drunk and bleeding at a nightclub. No one would suspect that a few days later she would be dead. No one except her ruthless killer, Aaron Ramsey.
"In Uruguay, it is a sign of great reverence and admiration to let someone shake your arm. Why does nobody respect my cultural traditions?"
Luis Suarez made his first start this weekend since serving an eight-match ban for racially abusing Patrice Evra. And as fate would have it, he came up against Manchester United.
For those of you who live under a rock, in an Afghan cave, or in the red half of Liverpool, Luis Suarez refused to shake Patrice Evra’s hand and caused quite a controversy.
Since the incident occurred there has been quite the hullabaloo about the whole thing. Should he have shaken his hand? Were Kenny Dalglish’s post-game remarks completely laughable and embarrassing? Were their subsequent apologies adequate and heartfelt? Is Luis Suarez a total disgrace as human being? (yes, yes, no, and yes).
But here at FourFiveTwo we are above such petty concerns. Football’s supposed to be a happy occasion! Let’s not bicker and argue about who shook who.
The FA is looking for a new manager and everyone thinks they know the best man for the job. The writers here at FourFiveTwo are no exception. And after reading the jackassery they came up with, I don’t even know why I continue to associate with these people.
You’ve probably just read BG’s garbage about Lemmy from Motörhead. While it’s undeniable that Lemmy is a sex god and a total badass, these are not the qualities England needs. Look what happened the last time England appointed a sexual powerhouse. Sven-Goran Eriksson was caught in a string of sex scandals that volcanoed through the country and left the national team a smoking wreckage. Lemmy would be that times a million. England doesn’t need a rock ‘n’ roll philanderer. England needs a leader of men.