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Ranting and Raving: Cole Hamels, Frodo Baggins and getting away with bandwagon murder

By TTFBaseball on | From throughthefencebaseball.com

I’ll be the first to admit that fantasy baseball isn’t exactly my “forte” when it comes to fantasy leagues. If somebody held a gun to my head, I’d say that I don’t even have a “forte.” If you admitted to one in a similar situation, you need to get some priorities in your life. Maybe find a girl. Take her out to a nice steak dinner. And then watch her leave with your waiter. Don’t be too heart broken, though — it only means more time for you to study outrageously ridiculous SABR stats and to further fine-tune your lineup to perfection.

Seriously, though — I’m rather lazy when it comes to fantasy baseball. It isn’t that I don’t enjoy it. Because, I kinda do. But, I’m not one to completely submerse myself into the statistical netherworld that it can become …

If you are stuck in the netherworld of SABR stats, then tell Arwen hello for me.

… that kind of behavior can be saved for those people that believe Middle Earth and Frodo Baggins actually exist. However, I will venture to say that I would make a pass at Liv Taylor’s character in the movie. And, no, it isn’t the pointy ears or the whole make-believe language. I just truly believe that I’m much more of a man that Aragorn ever was. It would be nothing more than a one-night stand. I could never commit to a serious relationship with Liv Taylor — you know, with Steven Tyler being able to pass as both her father and mother. Seriously, those lips. And his overall feminine appearance.

But I digress.

The purpose of this column — which may actually turn into a weekly occurrence — is to talk about fantasy baseball, not oddly sexy elves and their cross-breed parents.

First, let me say that I’m currently competing in three leagues. That is probably just child’s play to some of you crazies. But three is plenty for me. And, honestly, I pay 85 percent of my attention to just one — and this league will usually be the focus of most of my nonsensical rants and lectures. You’ve been warned.

Quickly, let’s take a glance at my team. It has changed considerably since draft day, as quite a few pickups have come through trades.

My current lineup consists of:

C – Yadier Molina
1B – Albert Pujols
2B – Mike Aviles
3B – Edwin Encarnacion
SS – Erick Aybar
IF – Brett Wallace
OF – Drew Stubbs
OF – Ryan Ludwick
OF – Alex Gordon
OF – Jason Bourgeois
OF – Ryan Braun
OF – Gerardo Parra
UTIL – Ike Davis
Bench – Jonny Gomes

And my pitching staff includes:

SP – Tim Lincecum
SP – Roy Oswalt
SP – Armando Galarraga
SP – Jonathon Niese
SP – Daisuke Matsuzaka
SP – Dustin Moseley
SP – Chris Volstad
SP – Chris Capuano
SP – Bruce Chen
RP – Ryan Madson
RP – Kevin Gregg
DL – Johan Santana

Honestly, I’m happy with the team thus far. They have provided me enough firepower to race out to a 3-1 record. I’m still rather irritated about that one loss, which I endured last week. Why? Because I was down by 40 points on Sunday and staged a comeback, which can only be likened to Jesse “The Body” Ventura’s career, but was unable to get just three measly points to get the victory.

Seriously. Three points. I blame my inability to have any sort of relief pitching presence on my team. Would it have made a difference? Who knows. What I do know, though, is that I made some rather aggressive trades after that loss, and I think my team is the better for it.

I should have never traded Cole Hamels. At least that way his wife would always be in my fantasy ballpark.

One such example is trading away Cole Hamels and Jason Hammel for Braun, Chen, Matsuzaka, and Santana. Yeah, it was tough giving up Hamels. About as tough as trying to make it through an episode of American Idol — which means it was damn near impossible. But, the trade gave me the ability to do something that I typically like to do with my fantasy teams — stock up on decent quality pitchers.

No, I in no way believe that either Braun, Chen or Matsuzaka are individually as good as Hamels. But, put them together, and you have something that is at least capable of producing more projected points than Hamels.

But, therein lies the problem. I truly did put an emphasis on telling myself that the project points worked in my favor. Projected points. If everything I “projected” in my life would have worked out, that drunken instant message conversation I had with the “hottie from Bonar Hall” in college would have resulted in a much more enjoyable experience than a knee to the groin. And, no, not from her. But her boyfriend. I would have been perfectly okay with the crotch-shot had it been from her.

So, how has the trade worked out thus far? Don’t really know. Chen tossed for me the other day and racked up 29 points, but he is the only pitcher to go from that trade so far. Additionally, Braun has been about as useful thus far as Carrie on Mythbusters. Yeah, she is probably smart and everything, but we all really know why we watch her on the show.

I’m certainly not about to make any hasty decisions with Braun, though. I recently acquired Pujols through a trade and, as we all know, he started the season in a Pittsburgh Pirate-esque slump. He is slowly turning it around, so I’m trying my best to stay positive during this little bit of an upsetting period with Braun. I’m sure, at one point or another, he is going to have a huge week — a week great enough for me to gloat to the guy who traded him to me.

Of course, my luck would probably have Hamels throw back-to-back perfect games during the course of the same week. It would probably be at that point that my otherwise friendly trash talk will get personal. I don’t take re-gloating very well. Rather than tossing out the overused, “man, you sure know how to trade,” I’d probably, in this specific situation, be forced to bark something along the lines of: “… back-to-back perfect games? Yeah, well, at least my wife didn’t throw all my stuff into the front yard, take pictures with her cell phone and then send them to me as a divorce threat.”

Did I mention that I don’t take re-gloating very well?

I guess, seeing how this is an introductory column of sorts, that I should make some sort of bold prediction about my fantasy team. First, I should start small. I don’t expect to continue to win three games to every one loss. Not with the very inconsistent pitching staff I have. I do, however, expect and demand from my players a playoff berth. And, believe me, it has nothing to do with actually making the playoffs. It just gives me the ability to say, “You can kiss my hairy Italian back end because you didn’t even make the playoffs last year” to exactly eight fellow competitors. Any actual victories in the playoffs is just gravy.

Second, I don’t foresee any type of superstar player on my team. Yeah, I got Pujols, but with the early slump he is having, I’m not quite sure what to think. I do have Lincecum, but has he done anything yet this season to prove that last season was something more than a quick “flash in the pan”? I would argue no, but I pray harder than I do for the death of all bandwagon Pittsburgh Penguins fans that he does.

This makes up half of my Facebook friend list.

On a brief side note: I hate bandwagon Pittsburgh Penguins fans. I’m not a huge fan of the Penguins. Never was. And I have never pretended to be. Though, I know enough about the history of the franchise to certainly appreciate what they have become. Hell, I was even at Game Three of the Stanley Cup the year they won it. But, God, some of these “friends” I have on Facebook are absolutely out of control with their love for the Penguins. I’m fairly sure one of the females on my news feed (whose status updates during hockey season regularly cause the blood vessels in my eyes to burst) attempted to grow a beard for the playoffs. I’m not sure if I’m more disgusted or enraged. Why? Because I’m fairly certain, despite all of her wild claims, that she didn’t even know Pittsburgh had a hockey franchise before the arrival of Sidney Crosby.

If the Pirates somehow manage to come out of this 18-year nightmare, I’m sure those bandwagon fans will be even more annoying. All I can ask is that God make me fleet-footed and conspicuous enough to avoid the authorities after I go all Ty Cobb on the bandwagon morons.

Okay, now that I officially got that off my chest, it’s time to end this for the week.

I should be back next week — unless I’m either forced to never write what is truly on my mind again, or I finally snap under the idiocy that is Pittsburgh bandwagon fans and have to make a run for it.

Either way, wish me luck.