"Fantasy Christmas Morning"

It's Fantasy Christmas Morning and all through the land, drafters are rising from their slumbers, fantasy magazines in hand.

Each with their own strategies, sure they will work, untill Peralta or Cantu pull hammies, those fat lazy jerks!

No one quite knows how it will all play out, but there will most certainly be beer guzzling, cursing and shouts!

Big Bro has packed up his family and will soon be on his way, a trip to Rochester for Fantasy Baseball? Nothing will keep him away!

Independant Joe is in New York City, charging his cell phone as we speak, while Pasta Roni is thinking of Yankees, his draft outlook is bleak.

Steel is pacing and smoking cigarettes, wondering, "Will I finally kill Pasta today?", while Single Andy is in Olean, his magazine he'll buy on the way.

South American Power is packing a lipper and getting ready to yell and shout, but the only question on our minds is, In what round will he pass out?

TAD is still sleeping, his 30 beers he's yet to consume, while Muffin is busy preparing, to draft the best team in the room.

The Commish is still thinking, should I take Abreu or Jones? But one more call to Muffin will lead to sighing and groans.

Worst in Class excited, he is filled all with glee, if he can get Jones in the 2nd, he knows he'll have the best team, most defintely!

For his strategy is simple, he wants Homers, Runs and Hits, strikeouts are for losers, pathetic little whimps.

He has #1 hitter's accross the board, so how could he go wrong? Who cares if his best picture is Kazmier, and all opposing batters go long?

When the draft is all over, they will see he was right, he will get in his car and drive off into the night.

But as he drives off we will hear him turn and call..."Offense, not pitching, wins in Fantasy Baseball!!!"




-More Hammers