Dear Diary,
It is hard for me write this without shedding tears. But I will do my best. Currently, I am twenty points behind my opponent with one player left to play, New Orleans tight end Jeremy Shockey.
Normally, I would be rejoicing because I have already outscored both of my unworthy peers, Devon Robinson and Anthony Shingler. However, it’s a little hard to dance with an evil grin when I am ranked twelfth out of twelve teams.
I have won only one game this season.
I, the self-proclaimed ruler of my own fantasy world, have fallen low (way, way low). In these first seven weeks I have lost in every way possible. Blow outs, nail biters, miracles, it has been a constant stream of pain.
My lone victory came against Shingler in week five. It was supposed to start my turnaround. I am supposed to be 3-5, storming my way back to the top where I belong.
Instead I am stunned and bewildered at 1-6 praying for my second win.
What seemed like great running back depth has turned into a weekly hunt for a healthy runner. Darren McFadden, Clinton Portis, Brian Westbrook, Willie Parker and Ricky Williams are the list of running backs I began the season with.
This week I had to use Justin Fargas and Michael Bush, the one and two runners for the Raiders. I repeat, I was forced to use two Raiders. Pardon me while I wipe away a tear.
It feels like my previously super powered ego is malnourished and hanging from a cliff by the fingertips of one hand.
Regardless if my win streak continues, the one thing I will not do is give up. One of the things I hate most is when fantasy owners give up midway through the season, not bothering to switch their roster from one week to another.
I refuse to be that type of owner. If the championship is out of my reach and the odds of even getting in the playoffs are beyond remote, I will play the best team I can put together every week, determined to take someone out.I’m that guy in horror movies who refuses to run away anymore. Instead he turns and faces the hideous, evil beast that has been chewing on all his unsuspecting friends. Sure, that guy dies screaming 75 percent of the time. But he gives that ugly beast indigestion. I take solace in giving my opponents indigestion.
Only seven weeks remain this season. This is a competitive league and every game is essential from this point. With that in mind, the rest of the league should be scared because to get to the playoffs, you have to get through me.
As the week’s progress and the point scores get tighter, they are going to wish I gave up and let my team be an automatic win for the rest of the season.
Instead, my next seven opponents are going to be up nights, sweating because I will be doing my best to eliminate each and every one of them. I am going to be the dreaded loss that kept them out of the playoffs. I am going to be that one game which will haunt them until next season.
They are going to be so close and I am going to slam the door on them with a resounding, ominous boom.
Donning a black cape and laughing maniacally,
Marlon Scott



Dear Diary,



