Week 9 Recap

All Our Heroes Die

Alex looks down at his watch. “Damn. It’s almost that time.” He’d had a busy weekend and hadn’t really paid attention to how his fantasy team had been doing. There was almost no point, really. Our hero was in last place in his league, already facing long odds to make the playoffs. “Sabrina’s out for girl’s night, maybe I’ll turn on Monday Night Football.”

There was plenty of Imperfect Produce remaining from the Thursday delivery. ‘I’ll make a quick frittata,’ he thinks to himself. He slices the funny shaped bell pepper. He dices up the excessively skinny onion. He chops the mushroom with two stems and one cap. A glug of olive oil. The pan sizzles with excitement as it turns ugliness into beautiful nourishment. Dinner in front of the television. He pulls out his laptop.

“Wow,” Alex gently exclaims to himself. His season had been so unlucky and so challenging, he was surprised to see he was beating Doug’s team this week. Nearly a 7 point lead with only Doug’s defense left to play. ‘I could win this,’ Alex cautiously thinks. In fact, it looked quite likely. Could this be the turnaround Alex finally needed? The league was small. An eight man league, with six going to the playoffs. A win would put him 2 games back from 6^th place with 4 left to play.

He lets his mind wander. ‘If I squeeze in there, I could make a nice little run,’ he hypothesizes, remembering last years’ playoffs. ‘Any one with the hot hand could win.’ Claiming the $160 prize money wasn’t a necessity in the Moore household. They were comfortable. But bills are bills. “How could we still be paying off the flowers from our wedding?” Alex had asked Sabrina two nights before. Alex would be happy to finally stop paying for all those peonies. Bills are bills.

A quick text to Sabrina. ‘I hope you’re having fun, Love,’ he writes. He adds a smiley face and a peach emoji. Can’t blame a guy for trying.

Tossing the phone to his side, he turns his attention to the game. 0-0 in the 1^st quarter still. Suddenly, Alex’s heart sinks. A forced fumble for Dallas. Not great. Doug has now taken the lead. But it’s early enough and Alex tells himself to not get too worked up. Defenses lose points as things go along. It’ll be fine.

His optimism doesn’t last long. Another Dallas forced fumble and recovery. Less than three game minutes after the first.

Alex had always prided himself on being a good friend. He was happy when others were happy. But he could sense jealousy starting to bubble up inside. ‘How in the world could Doug be so lucky?’ He asks himself. ‘His team isn’t even that good.’ Still, the game was early and things could change. He decides that the best course of action is to focus his attention somewhere else and let the game just happen in the background.

Finishing his frittata and opening a new window on his laptop, he clicks over Amazon. ‘I’m a home owner now,’ he tells himself confidently, ‘and homeowners have tools.’ But what tools does he need? Alex is unsure. Maybe a leaf blower? But he doesn’t have a yard. He’d always wanted a circular saw but he feared that his inexperience would lead to injury. He needed all ten of his fingers. He sighs, adding AAA batteries to his cart. ‘This is what being an adult is like. Buying boring, practical shit,’ he thinks. Tool less, he closes out of the window.

After a quick shower and finishing the laundry he had started earlier in the evening, Alex returns to the game. ‘Are you shitting me?’ he curses when he checks the fantasy score. Doug is now up 104.85 to 103.50. Alex is baffled. A mere 7 weeks earlier, he had lost to Doug in a similar fashion by a grand total of 0.1 points. This couldn’t happen again, right? ‘Come on Tennessee. COME ON.’

But his encouragement falls on deaf ears. Marcus Mariota takes a knee and the game is over. Alex stares in disbelief. He has lost by 0.35 points. The phone he had tossed aside earlier is now buzzing with gloating GIFs from Doug and Brian. ‘HAHAHAHA’ is all Doug can manage to say. ‘Fantasy football is bullshit,’ Alex texts back, too grumpy to think of anything cleaver or witty.

A new text from Sabrina: ‘I’m going to be out a little later than I expected. Don’t stay up waiting for me.’ No mention of a peach or an eggplant.

Alex gathers his freshly folded laundry and puts it away in the dresser drawers. He thinks about the payment that is due on the wedding peonies and how beautiful his wedding day was. He smiles to himself. Pulling his phone out of his pocket as he walks into the bathroom, he opens the screen to PornHub and closes the door behind him.

* * * *

Other games happened, Matthew and Doug clinched playoffs, and Brian and Alex are going to battle to see who pays for drinks in January.