Swami's NFL Pool 2018: The Root of the Week III

September 25, 2010

The Root of the Week III

As Richard Jeni would say, the sports world is always looking for the Bigger, Better Deal. One such BBD craze, the latest to cycle 'round again despite its long history, is that of the Big Three, which is to say the stockpiling of superstars and the labeling of them as surefire winners. What began long ago in that wonderfully colored medium of the illustrated page has practically overtaken the basketball world; we saw it in Boston with Garnett, Pierce, and Allen in '08 and we saw it last summer in Miami with the King, D-Wade, and that other guy.

Suicide 2010 is no different, it seems, and fitting it is that in Week Three of our season, we find our steadfast participants dialing up their own version of a Big Three in Baltimore, New England, and Minnesota. Everyone and their mother is on one of these teams, truly -- my own mother emailed me her pick and she's on the Pats. Rasmussen currently estimates the Big Three will probably top 95% of the participant picks when all is said and done. Sure, we've got a smattering of Bengals, Eagles, Redskins, 49ers, and even a very bold Bears-lover, but these are few and far between.

There is no herd this week; there are three smaller spheres, and a great deal of overlap therein. Suicide is survival, however, and while I think anyone riding the Viking ship is destined for the halls of Valhalla, the Pats and Birds are both safe picks, and safety is the name of the game in the early going.

And so open here I fling the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, in there steps a stately raven of the saintly days of yore, and this raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, on the morrow shall ease my sorrow, and take me straight into Week Four.

That is all.

Introducing . . .

. . . Ze German, a frothy, filthy, unfiltered 'Skins-lover bringing you weekly rants from his tapestry-laden castle high upon the Zugspitze peak. There is wisdom and method to his madness, however, so pay attention -- just look out for the women and children.

. . . The Holy Light, and the best of us, a beacon of strength, dignity, and truth, and shining where there is darkness. As it was in Ezekiel, his word is his bond and his name is the law, and he shall strike down those who dare not listen when he doth speak.

. . . The Hooded Fiend, brilliant, diabolical, devious -- the smartest man you've never met, and will never have the chance. Locked away in the dungeons below a nondescript building, we only bring the Fiend out to post when the situation is most dire.

. . . El Doctor, the tall, dark, hunky, and handsome resident surgeon of Suicide. Women love his strong hands, men respect his keen mind, and Swami requires his wicked wit, but no one understands his almost unholy passion for autos and linen pants.

. . . Man of Wench, that staunch fan of all things Philly and a fine specimen of masculinity, bold enough to tie the knot with the feisty, infamous Wench. Whether at the grill or at the bar, with a healthy glass of vino in his hand he'll bill you by the hour for a taste of his good times.

. . . Master of Macabre, a delightfully sinful and sinister purveyor of doom and gloom, keeper of all things dark and deathly. It is unsure what horrifies more: his spectral air, his cadaverous crypt, his Machiavellian machinations, or his penchant for Princess and the Frog.

. . . Shapeshifter, he of the ever-changing ways, ever-shifting forms, and everlasting enthusiasm. Our newest commentator brings forth pomp, verbosity, and circumstance on scale to rival even the Swami himself. Shifty, yes, and subtle when necessary, his form is never out of fashion.