Swami's NFL Pool 2018: Week Three

Showing posts with label Week Three. Show all posts

September 28, 2018

Friday Taunt III

For many years now I have been using this image, the scythe-wielding Grim Reaper. It comes out once per year after a week of dramatic destruction. The Reaper has most often made his appearance in Week Five; patterns developed over the first four weeks are ransacked in the fifth, and the Reaper reaps the benefit.

The Reaper has never before appeared in Week Three -- and has never before presided over a week with as much devastation as Week Three of 2018. Quite simply, the results were breathtaking.

First, the Vikings, also known as the biggest upset in NFL history. A "project" rookie QB surrounded by medium talent on the road against the roster considered by many to be the most complete in the entire league. Seventeen point favorites ... who were down by several more points than that by the end of the first quarter. The Vikings were BOAT-RACED. They took 92 participants with them -- by itself, this one loss would've been enough to enter the Top Three of Worst Weeks Ever.

But then came the Jaguars and Patriots. The Jaguars? An inexplicable loss. The Patriots? Not quite as inexplicable given they were playing a team with inside info, but still: the Lions? Really, Tom?

Grand total: 125 participant losses in one week. We have only 11 undefeated teams left and it's only Week Four. The Reaper has already swept 63 participants under the blade of his scythe, twice. It's a brutal, brutal year.

Week Three Stats
11 undefeated
86 with one loss
125 week three losers
63 deceased

That is all.

September 23, 2018

The Root of the Week III

The Swami Clan is in the market for Cousins and so to the Cousin's Market we shall go. After a moderate scare in the the Heavenly City -- you know, until Cleveland* -- we will turn our Week Three sights to the Twins.

The Bills are hapless and the iron-armed quarterback will do little to amend that point of fact. Therefore, still smarting off a tie to their fiercest division rival, the merry band of Cousin Men will ready their wooden ships and their horned helmets and search for their place in Valhalla on the field of glorious battle.

They will find it. Vikings across the board.

That is all.

September 23, 2012

The Root of the Week III

Back in the saddle for the 70 strong who succumbed in Week Two, save for the 6 poor souls who perished entirely.

The heavy action flows two ways this week. Yes, we have a few moving to their own beat, perhaps on the Bears or the Boys or Steel City, but the majority has spoken, and the masses are moving forward with god and with gold.

The 49ers are road-bound, and while playing an inferior team from lake country, the NFL road is fraught with peril. Therefore, there will be no flowers in my hair this week.

Which leaves the holy option, and like Joliet Jake, I have seen the light.

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.