Diary of a Pool Meltdown

Sure, I’ve finished no better than sixth in my fantasy pool over the past decade. Sure, I’m the guy whose players always end up missing time due to hangnails, vertigo or parasites. Sure, most of my cornerstone picks turn into Buddy Biancalana the moment I draft them. Despite all this, my gut told me 2004 was finally going to be my year.

Here’s how it went:

MARCH 15:

Given only three protections due to my twelfth-place finish last year (thank you, Shawn Green), I submit my keeper list: Keith Foulke (based on Boston’s deep lineup), Jason Isringhausen (based on St. Louis’ even deeper one) and Kevin Brown (based on the fact that the entire Yankee order, excluding Miguel Cairo, could give an opposing pitcher a coronary). My buddy Andrew tries to get under my skin by asking, “Is Izzy still the Cards’ closer? It’s just that he’s always injured, so I didn’t realize.” I try to think of something witty to say about one of his players, but instead I just tell him to go screw himself.

MARCH 28:

Draft day. My heart rate skyrockets as we conclude the preliminary rules discussion and begin, me in the eight spot. Pitching wins World Series and Fantasy pools, so I’m not distressed when Pujols, Manny and A-Rod go by the boards. When it reaches me, I finally resolve the internal debate I’ve been having for weeks about whether to draft Roy Oswalt or Mark Mulder in the first round by selecting Mike Mussina. Coming back down the table, I select Bernie Williams. I knew the others would be gun-shy because he’s on the DL for the first week; given the sticks around him, Bernie will gain more points in the first week back than most guys will in all of April. With my third pick I surprise everyone by taking the Yanks’ new leadoff hitter, Kenny Lofton, offering side bets he’ll score at least 120 runs. With my next pick I select Rafael Furcal at short, followed by Ray Durham at second and Edgar Martinez as my DH. The Edgar pick limits my flexibility, but, come on, the guy’s as much a hitting machine as Barry. Then it’s Darin Erstad at first — one of his spring at-bats suggested to me he’s a good bet to regain his 240-hit form of 2000 — and, in the outfield, Carl Everett, poised for a huge year because no one’s going to bother pitching around him in the Expos’ lineup, which is about as potent as my co-ed slo-pitch team. I round out my offense with Ryan Klesko, Bengie Molina behind the dish, and, as a throwaway pick because I have a few dollars to blow, Sean Casey. As my third starter behind Mussina and Brown, I grab Tim Wakefield on the cheap — he’ll get a boatload of wins with the Sox. At third base the remaining viable candidates are Adrian Beltre, Joe Randa and Joe Crede (as in Cruddy). After not giving Beltre a second thought — if a guy hasn’t figured it out in his first six seasons, he certainly isn’t going to figure it out in his seventh — I go with Randa, who won’t produce eye-popping stats but will at least provide pop here and there. Coming out of the draft, I’m in high spirits: I’ve never drafted a team this solid. As long as my guys stay healthy, I’m a lock to finally win this thing.

MARCH 30:

Kicking off the season in Tokyo, Mussina loses 8-3 to Tampa Bay. Lofton is placed at the bottom of the order instead of the top. Maybe Torre was looking at the lineup card upside down.

MARCH 31:

Kevin Brown beats Tampa Bay, 12-1. Lofton hits ninth again. I lodge a formal complaint with someone at the Yankees’ head office, who assures me Mr. Torre will get back to me whenever he has the time. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was being sarcastic.

APR. 6:

Back on North American soil, Mussina loses to Tampa Bay for the second time in a week. Lofton, placed in his rightful leadoff spot, goes 0-for-4. I alleviate my growing anxiety with a heaping bowl of Count Chocula.

APR. 7:

Brown beats Tampa Bay for the second time in a week. Lofton goes 1-for-5.

APR. 9:

Lofton goes 0-for-3 against the Sox’s John Garland to fall to .211, then gripes to the media about Torre not respecting his ability. Torre is quoted as saying, “I don’t think Kenny’s quite there yet,” which I know means, “Anyone who whines in my clubhouse will be lucky to see 100 at-bats this year.” Crap.

APR. 14:

Brown beats Tampa Bay, 5-1, going to 3-0. I check the Yanks’ schedule hoping to find that all 35 of his starts will be against the Devil Rays. No luck.

APR. 15:

Carl Everett goes on the DL. What was I thinking? For a guy who’s scarier looking than Joe Frazier, he’s more fragile than Kate Moss.

APR. 21:

Wakefield beats the Blue Jays 4-2 for his second win; Foulke gets his third save in three days. Still my year.

APR. 22:

Looking like a newborn trying to throw a shot put, Mussina loses 4-3 to the White Sox to go to 1-4.

APR. 24:

Roger Clemens beats the Rockies to improve to 4-0. I e-mail my friend Dave, who protected Clemens, to tell him to enjoy it while it lasts — the old geezer will be sucking wind by July.

APR. 27:

On my way to a game of pick-up hockey, I tune into the Tigers-Angels game. The first thing I hear is, “Wow, Bengie Molina has really let himself go.” During the pick-up game, I’m as distracted as a teenager who’s been dumped before getting to second base.

APR. 29:

The Red Sox sweep a double-header with Tampa Bay, 4-0 and 7-3. Foulke just misses save opportunities on both ends. Frustrating, but I know he’ll reel them off in bunches and finish with 40-45.

APR. 30:

The good news: Bernie goes 2-for-4. The bad news: This raises his average to .194. The good news: Sean Casey is hitting .414. The bad news: I’ve had him on reserve.

MAY 3:

Reading a report that Durham is headed to the 15-day, I place a bid on Brian Roberts. Then, noticing Roberts didn’t play the previous night, I put the money instead towards Junior Spivey.

MAY 4:

Brian Roberts scores four runs and steals four bases. I make myself watch an entire Keanu Reeves film as punishment. Boston beats Cleveland, 9-5; Foulke just misses a save opportunity.

MAY 18:

Isringhausen blows a save against the stink-o-rama Mets, walking two before allowing the winning hit. I’m such a tool. Who protects pitching?

MAY 27:

Klesko goes on the 15-day. Man, I hate that guy. He’s like Matt Williams from the opposite side, hiding his face in his shoulder like a shy kid wondering what the heck he’s doing.

MAY 28:

Boston beats Seattle, 8-4. Did Boston sign an agreement with the rest of the league to win games only by four runs?

MAY 29:

Brown beats Tampa Bay to go to 6-1. That’s better. A few early hiccups, but my boys are ready to charge to the top and stay there.

JUNE 2:

Durham goes on the 15-day.

JUNE 6:

Everett goes on the 15-day. The guy doesn’t even stay uninjured long enough for me to release him.

JUNE 7:

Erstad goes on the 15-day. Am I in the Twilight Zone?

JUNE 8:

Clemens shuts out Seattle, going to 9-0. Dave leaves me a voicemail saying, “This is Roger Clemens’ personal secretary calling to ask if you’d like a signed autograph. If so, please call 1-800-Dave-Rules.”

JUNE 14:

The Angels place Bengie Molina on the 15-day. I shake out the last of the Count Chocula in anguish.

JUNE 15:

Brown is placed on the 15-day; Mussina is projected to miss his next start. I feel myself slowly tipping over into clinical psychosis.

JUNE 20:

I activate Carl Everett and reserve Kenny Lofton.

JUNE 21:

I open the ESPN website to the headline, “Everett Out Again.” I double-check my contract with Satan. It clearly states that I get to win my Super Bowl pool five times between 2000 and 2006 but indicates nothing about my baseball pool team having to tank every year as compensation. I make a note on my calendar to put in a call about this.

JUNE 22:

My wife Stephanie summons me upstairs for dinner just as Isringhausen comes in with a one-run lead against the Cubs, men on first and second, to face Aramis Ramirez. I yell to her that I’m saving the manuscript I’m working on and will be up in a minute. I have a sinking feeling Ramirez is going to take Izzy yard. I’m wrong. He hits a two-run double. I haven’t had a closer this frustrating since Heathcrap Slocumb. When I get upstairs, Steph asks me why I’m moping. I tell her it has to do with something that happened at the office yesterday. She kisses me and says, “Your baseball players will have a better day tomorrow, honey. By the way, you work from home.”

JUNE 23:

Casey goes 5-for-6 with two dingers. Eight words I never thought I’d find myself thinking: “I wish my whole team were Sean Caseys.” Edgar goes 0-for-4, dropping his average to .241. Appearing on the nightly highlight reel for being on the wrong end of two strikeouts, he looks about as mobile as my grandmother. Bonds, whom I remember mentally comparing to Edgar at the draft, is also struggling: after an 0-for-2, the guy is barely maintaining his average at .360.

JUNE 27:

Andrew acquires the Twins’ Johan Santana because he’s won four in a row to go to a barely-above-average 6-4. That’ll come back to haunt him; four wins don’t make an ace. While running out a single, Casey strains his calf.

JUNE 28:

Randa goes on the 15-day with torn cartilage in his right knee. Wondering exactly how I wronged God, I release Randa and pick up Mark Bellhorn, who’s eligible for third.

JULY 2-4:

Mussina gets shelled by the Mets, who haven’t been able to hit their way out of a paper bag; Casey is placed on the 15-day.

JULY 17:

Santana beats K.C. 4-1, striking out nine; Andrew’s other starter, Jason Schmidt, shuts out Colorado 4-0, striking out eight. I send Andrew an e-mail saying, “Enjoy the ride; you’re lucky if one of them keeps it up, let alone both.” That night I have a nightmare that Santana wins his final thirteen starts. I wake up and immediately down two bowls of Honey Nut Cheerios.

JULY 18:

Boston defeats Anaheim, 6-2.

JULY 19:

The Expos send Carl Everett to the White Sox for Jon Rauch and someone named Gary Majewski, who I think is the towel-cleaning guy in Chicago’s minor-league system. For a week and a half Everett gets me some quality points, then, since his consecutive games streak is approaching twelve, decides he’d better strain a quad.

AUG. 2:

Wakefield beats Tampa Bay, improving to 7-6; Foulke gets his 17th save. I share the sentiment held by every team in the majors: Thank God for the Devil Rays.

AUG. 3:

Mark Bellhorn is placed on the 15-day. Is it just me, or do players today actually enjoy being injured? After the season in which I had Kirby Puckett go down with glaucoma, Lenny Dykstra retire with a useless back, and Brett Butler contract throat cancer, I thought I’d completed my penance for having clearly robbed a bank, or something of the sort, in a previous lifetime. But it must have been a really big bank. (Signs You’ve Had a Bad Year in the Pool: One of the other managers actually calls to express his sympathies. I’ve received four such calls.) Bengie Molina goes on the 15-day for the second time. His brother, Jose, goes 3-for-3 in his place, so I snatch him. He goes 3 for his next 21. I force myself to rent Gigli and watch it without a washroom break.

AUG. 10:

Boston beats Tampa Bay, 8-4.

AUG. 29:

A day after scoring 18 runs against the Blue Jays, the Yanks score a grand total of four for Mussina, who takes the loss to drop to 9-8. The same day, Tim Wakefield cruises to a win against Detroit. I have him reserved.

SEPT. 1:

My fantasy website posts a list of the year’s ten biggest busts. Signs You’ve Had a Bad Year in the Pool, Part II: You count the fact that you have only one player on the bust list (Mussina) as a small victory.

SEPT. 3:

Down 3-1 to the Orioles, Kevin Brown leaves the game, punches a locker and breaks his hand. I guess I was wrong about having been a bank robber in a previous lifetime; I must have been Genghis Khan.

SEPT. 4:

ESPN.com informs me it’s Brown’s non-pitching hand. Whatever — he’s still a moron.

SEPT. 5:

Isringhausen enters against the Dodgers with a one-run lead and gives up three runs faster than you can say “hanging curve.” I send Andrew a pre-emptive e-mail saying “Up yours.”

SEPT. 9:

In the Royals’ 26-5 thrashing of the Tigers, Joe Randa gets six hits and scores six runs. Stephanie asks me how much the winner of the pool gets, then, after I tell her $500, asks me whether it’s worth six months of sulking. Shuffling my feet like a kid caught throwing a tantrum, I answer with a barely audible, “Guess not.” I wait until she falls asleep and go online to check the boxscores.

SEPT. 10:

Rafael Furcal is arrested for driving under the influence. The website informs me he was charged with a DUI four years ago. How did I miss that in the spring previews?

SEPT. 11-12:

Furcal goes deep in consecutive games. I phone the Braves’ front office to ask whom I can pay to sneak him alcohol more often.

SEPT. 17:

Against Arizona, whose lineup is about as intimidating as Tobey Maguire, Isringhausen enters in the top of the ninth, immediately starts walking everyone in sight, and gives up the game-tying double on a pitch my dog could have tattooed. In the bottom of the inning, Pujols walks and Edmonds triples, handing Izzy his fourth undeserved win of the season against two completely deserved losses.

SEPT. 19:

In a huge performance, Mussina defeats Pedro 11-1, preserving the Yanks’ slim lead on the Sox. Mussina is turning it on — only five months too late.

SEPT. 21:

Ichiro notches his fourth five-hit game of the year, putting him within 14 hits of George Sisler’s record. Andrew e-mails to say, “Good call protecting Izzy over Ichiro this year. He’s clearly still learning the North American game.” I can’t think of a reply because I’m too busy trying to remember the exact moment of vapor-lock that caused me not to protect Ichiro. It must have been the same part of my brain that allowed me to draft Dennis Martinez first overall in ’94 because I was sure he’d win a zillion games with a juggernaut Cleveland squad. As I’m finishing the thought, Dave calls to say, “I’m thinking of documenting everyone’s ten dumbest managerial moves. What year was it that you drafted Dennis Martinez first?” I hang up.

SEPT. 22:

I’m informed by the website that Kevin Brown threw a side session yesterday and will see a hand specialist at the end of the week. How about a brain specialist?

SEPT. 26:

I activate Brown for his big start against the Red Sox coming off the hand injury. He goes two-thirds of an inning and gives up four runs. In the same game, Bernie whiffs three times, dropping his average to .258 and making Miguel Cairo look like Rogers Hornsby by comparison.

OCT. 2:

The website informs me that Klesko is day-to-day due to a strained rib. With exactly one day left in the season, this couldn’t be more insignificant.

OCT. 3:

The regular season ends. Andrew wins the pool going away. Mussina finishes 12-9. Lofton finishes with 51 runs. More than half of the other managers e-mail to ask whether I’m going to protect him; some add sarcastic emoticons. I compose a two-word reply:

Next year.

Lindy's Fantasy Baseball 

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I.J. Schecter
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Toronto, ON M6C 3N2
(416) 803-9847

© I.J. Schecter 2003