Doll Face had just about enough of Beth’s smug draft-day commentary. It wasn’t even the second round yet when Beth, sipping her overpriced caramel macchiato, leaned back in her chair and announced to the room: “Let’s get one thing straight—there is no backup booty in this league. I’m Beyoncé, always.” The room half-laughed, but Doll Face didn’t. That little jab stung, mostly because it hit the precise nerve Beth had aimed for. See, Doll Face had been dubbed Beyonce last season, and Mary Annis wasn’t ready to relinquish that honor.  Being told, publicly, that Beth was now Queen Bee…yeah, that doesn’t sit right.

So, in the grand tradition of fantasy vengeance, Doll Face did the only reasonable thing: she conjured up a spell. Not the weak, Harry Potter kind where you wave a wand and mutter some Latin-lite phrase. No—this was darker. A hex, aimed precisely at Beth’s phone. From that moment forward, Beth’s roster tinkering was doomed. Every time she tried to click “Prescott and Etienne,” the algorithm would flip it to “Jones and Benson.” Her top running back suddenly became a benchwarmer, and Prescott, the QB play of the week was replaced by Indiana Jones. It was as if the fantasy gods themselves were giggling behind the curtain.

While Beth spiraled under her cursed lineup, the league also turned its eyes toward Coach. Now, Coach fancies himself the savvy veteran, the one who “always works the phones.” Yet when ECG offered up Ashton Jeanty—a breakout waiting to happen—Coach balked. Why? Because Coach “didn’t want to overpay.” Overpay? Please. Jeanty was practically gift-wrapped, and Coach let him slip away like the head cheerleader on prom night. Everyone in the league tried to make a deal with Coach…and everyone knows it’s almost impossible, it’s like trying to get piss out of a pool.  The missed trade will be remembered as the season’s first act of managerial malpractice.

Meanwhile, Gerry quietly pulled off the unthinkable: his first win. That’s right—the guy who usually specializes in setting records for lowest weekly point totals finally found himself in the winner’s circle. The league erupted in disbelief, equal parts proud and horrified, as if watching a toddler finally wobble across the living room only to knock over the TV.

And then there’s Paulie. Poor, helpless Paul. Without his old partner-in-crime, John Graydon, he’s been exposed like a pedophile in Central Park.  Every lineup decision has been suspect, every waiver claim laughable. He’s the kid who copied homework all year only to freeze when the final exam was handed out. The league watches him flounder, and it’s sad—pathetic, really—but also entertaining in the most guilty-pleasure way.

This week had it all: feuds, curses, managerial blunders, first-time victories, and the unraveling of reputations. And that was before we even got to the box scores.

Michael vs Rex (87.68 – 97.70)

Junior strolled into Week 4 with confidence, thinking a cozy 87 would be enough to gnaw at Rex’s bones. Wrong. Big Dawg casually dropped 97, because apparently, all he has to do is show up and breathe to stay on top of the standings. At 7-1, Dawg is starting to look less like a competitor and more like that obnoxious dude in poker who wins with 2-7 offsuit just by smirking.

The Pack? Sitting at 5-3, scratching fleas and wondering what went wrong. This was never a blowout, just death by dullness. Watching this matchup was like watching two liberals describe their sexual orientation.

Coach vs Tom (88.42 – 88.34)

Ladies and gentlemen, presenting the Closest Game in History That Nobody Wanted to Watch. Keydets eked out a win by 0.08 points. That’s not strategy—that’s the equivalent of tripping across the finish line because your opponent sneezed. Tom is probably still staring at his stat tracker, replaying the moment Bo Nix slid for a one-yard loss that flipped the score.

To be clear, neither team looked good. Scoring 88 in 2025 is like bragging you got laid in a whore house but still, Coach is .500 now, which means they’re officially the most aggressively average team in the league. Put that on a T-shirt.

Kevin vs Brian (90.00 – 67.20)

Kevin continues to march like an overfed juggernaut, moving to 7-1 with another “good enough” 90-point performance. His opponent? Camel Toe, who at this point should rename themselves Show Me Your Pity. Sitting at 0-8, they’re rewriting the manual on how not to play fantasy football.

With 67 points, Brian didn’t so much lose as they performed an interpretive dance of failure. You’d almost think they were tanking on purpose—but no, this is just raw incompetence. The league should start a GoFundMe to buy Brian a strategy guide. Or maybe just a clue.

Mario vs Beth (90.48 – 83.98)

In a battle of two 6-2 heavyweights, ECG checkmated Beth in a game that looked impressive on paper but was actually just mid-level meh. ECG scored 90—solid, but not terrifying. Islanders sputtered to 83, proving once again that no nickname involving “sugar” ever ages well in competition.

This matchup was like watching two chess players who both forgot the rules but somehow still ended up with one in checkmate. ECG now gets bragging rights, while Beth has to live with the shame of losing despite my kicker being the second-highest scorer.

Bob vs Mary Annis (62.86 – 81.12)

And here we have the ugliest game of the week. The Ballerinas tiptoed in, twirled around, and promptly fell flat on their faces with a 62-point disaster. Doll Face, scored a mighty 81—hardly a masterpiece, but when your dance partner is flopping around more than Chuck Schumer on the senate floor, you don’t need to be good.

Both teams sit at 2-6, and if we’re being honest, both should probably be relegated to the junior varsity league. The Boss’s 62 might be the kind of score you expect when someone accidentally leaves half their roster empty. Mary Annis at least scraped together a win, but don’t let them celebrate too much—the league doesn’t give participation ribbons.

Gerry vs Paulie (106.92 – 41.48)

Finally, the pièce de résistance: Gerry, previously the league’s punching bag, exploded for 106 points, annihilating Paulie. And the Eat Me’s Oh boy. They didn’t just lose. They didn’t just underperform. They scored 41 points. That’s not a fantasy score—that’s a cry for help.

At 3-5, Paulie looks like a team being managed by someone who drafted while stuck in traffic. Their roster has all the energy of an abandoned MySpace page. Meanwhile, The Commish—still only 2-6 overall—got to live out the fantasy of dunking on someone so hard the entire league had to stop and laugh.

This wasn’t a matchup. It was a public execution.

ð" Power Rankings of Shame (Week 4 Edition)

1. Brian (0-8) – 67 points, zero wins, infinite embarrassment. Rename yourselves “Show Me Your Exit Strategy.”
2. Paulie (41 points) – The lowest score of the season. Should be demoted to coaching youth flag football.
3. The Boss (62 points) – That wasn’t football; that was Swan Lake performed underwater.
4. Coach (Lucky 88.42) – Won by 0.08. Congratulations, your trophy is a participation sticker.

ð Weekly Awards

• MVP (Most Valuable Player): Gerry, for finally proving he knows where the “Start” button is.
• LVP (Least Valuable Player): Paulie, whose 41 points might go down as the worst “effort” in league history.
• Luckiest SOB: Coach, for winning by a margin thinner than a paper cut.
• Unluckiest SOB: Tom, for losing by that exact same margin. Therapy may be required.

ð¤ Final Thoughts

Week 4 was a circus. Rex and Kevin keep padding their records without actually being impressive. Coach and Tom gave us the fantasy equivalent of catfish in the Mississippi going for the same piece of corn. Gerry finally looked like he belonged in the league. The Boss and Doll Face proved that 2-6 isn’t just a record—it’s a lifestyle. And Paulie? Well, he cemented himself as the league’s designated comedy relief.

The season is shaping up like a bad sitcom: predictable, painful, but you just can’t stop watching.

Until Next Week…

Where your comments are welcomed but not always listened to…

ECG