If you don’t want to read me rambling on about fantasy football, feel free to skip straight down to the tits. I won’t mind.

In his recent column, Stephen A. Smith discusses the disparity between whites and blacks when it comes to participating in fantasy football. One of the possible reasons cited was that whites have disproportionate access to better paying jobs and the high-speed internet access that often entails. Perhaps there is some validity to that theory, but I’m not here to talk about race. Talk, by the way, is all we do about race in America. But if it’s any consolation, we talk about it a whole fucking lot.

No my point, and I’m sure you wish I’d get to it and on to the aforementioned tits, is that Smith’s column reminded me of the days lo’ those many years when I started playing fantasy football. A time when a) I was working shitty retail jobs and; b) next to no one had dial-up—let alone high speed—internet access. I remember going to drafts with dozens of index cards and the football issue of “Fantasy Baseball” magazine. If there were any dedicated fantasy football magazine in those days—it never made it out to the hinterlands.

It was in that first draft I witnessed what is still the worst pick I have ever seen or will ever see. First pick of the second round: JEFF FUCKING JAEGER. I still remember the guy smirking indignantly, “He led the league in scoring last season.” A lot of you have drafts coming up this weekend and early next week. Don’t be the Jeff Jaeger Guy. And as you sally forth into the holiday weekend, enjoy yourselves and for God’s sake don’t get any stupid songs stuck in your head.

And now, as promised, the tits…