This is pt. 2 of an extremely disturbing draft recap of our draft.
The Blues front office is crumbling before his eyes. Rubio was in the middle of a tough decision, do you try and pay attention to whatever is going on or do you watch old episodes of Popeye and wait for your name to be called?
It takes a specific kind of intelligence to break down a baseball player. You have to go beyond what the player looks like when he swings a bat or fields a batted ball. You have to comb through more than just batting average and HR’s and RBI’s. You have to dig past the superficial and reach into a deeper set of metrics to fully analyze what a player is worth. It’s what all the great fantasy team GM’s do nowadays.
Rubio doesn’t have that intelligence. He graduated from a liberal arts college strictly on a whim. Attendance was optional (as were the hacky sack circles and the weed parties) and students were graded with colors. Rubio got all greens, and when asked what that means exactly he offers up a fairly interesting point on it.
“Fuck if I know. I got a degree ain’t I?”
And with that butchering of the English language Rubio reflects on what has brought him to this point.
The year was 2006, shortly after his favorite team, the Cubs, had completely ass planted and shit all over themselves and before his other favorite team, the Bulls, would be good enough to be taken seriously. It was his 6th year as a Fantasy GM. Through some miracle he has racked up 4 chips in that span, finishing near the top of 12 team leagues with consistency.
He seemed poised to take it again in 2006, but all that was about to change thanks to one douchebag with a plan.
The darkest secret of fantasy baseball began sometime in 1990 with uber nerd Mike Sweeny. Sweeny had an idea, a plan as it were. Looking at his last name and figuring it needed an extra e, he initiated the Sweeney plan. The premise, punt HR’s and RBI’s. Punt K’s and W’s. Get a shit ton of relievers and rabbits that steal bases and win the damn league.
Rubio didn’t know about the Sweeney plan. In the 2006 draft though, he notices something strange about one team.
“They were called the dickbags from what I remember. The asshole dickbags.”
With the 7th overall pick the dickbags select Juan Pierre. Granted, Pierre was a thorn in Rubio’s side ever since 2003, but the selection strikes him as odd. As does the selection of Ryan Freel and Rafael Furcal. Rubio realizes what’s going on too late and goes the opposite way.
It is because of this Rubio selects a hulking slugger from Cincinnati and a love affair begins.
Adam Dunn is a player who’s offensive contributions are basic and whose deficiencies are somewhat overblown in his opinion. There are three outcomes with Adam Dunn. He either strikes out, walks or hits a homerun.
Adam Dunn becomes the centerpiece of a home run style fantasy team. Cut in the mold of Jim Thome (also on this team) he is Rubio’s favorite player by season’s end.
He doesn’t win the league, the Sweeney Plan, a cheap bastardization of fantasy baseball, wins out and the owner is kicked from the league. When Rubio recalls that year there is a mix of rage and pleasure blended into a delicious ragesure smoothie of baseball emotions.
But it was also the start of another strategy for him, the fuck you I’m getting HR’s and K’s strategy. HR’s all around the IF and a mix of HR’s and SB’s in the outfield is the ideal setup.
His target board at all the infield positions in 2011 are C-Carlos Santana, 1B-Joey Votto, 2B-Robinson Cano, SS-Troy Tulowitzki, 3B-Ryan Zimmerman.
Tulo is the highest on the list and the only one that matters at this point. He needs his precious HR’s at the SS position. Hanley Ramirez won’t fall to him there and Derek Jeter can suck a dick. He’s the reason Alex Rodriguez doesn’t play SS anymore, thinning out the talent there even more.
“If only that overrated piece of shit Jetes would move over to fucking 3B where his old decrepit ass belongs.”
Rubio hates Jeter. He is the antithesis of everything he believes in.
“Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman’s back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days. And I believe that Derek Jeter is an overrated assbag who needs to be shot.”
No one bothers to tell him that this is a Bull Durham quote. Well, most of it.
Weeks of research has boiled down to a few hours of actual “work” where the goal is an imaginary trophy that brings neither money nor glory, only bragging rights.
His Top Ten targets are set. He figures to get Troy Tulowitzki with the seventh overall pick, then Votto at 14. People will overvalue OFers in this draft, and Votto is only a tier below Pujols at this point. He can see his infield filling out. In his mind he has Tulo Votto Uggla and Zimmerman and his precious 140-170 HR’s on the IF.
Evanston has the first pick and they will likely take Pujols. Area 51 should take Hanley and after that it’s open to debate.
Logan Square will be unlikely to know what to do with the de facto rd. 1 Cardinal off the board, so he expects some wackiness.
No one can prepare him for what is about to happen after 3 though.
At 3 p.m. CST the draft begins. It’s an online live draft and the 8 owners of the various fantasy teams all join in an online draft lobby to determine the fake futures of grown ass men.
This is a keeper league, so age has to factor in as well. Things go according to plan with the first 2 picks, Pujols and Hanley are off the table.
Then things get wacky. As expected the super Cardinals homer doesn’t know what to do now that his spiritual boyfriend Albert Pujols is off the table. David Eckstein isn’t really in the league and not even he’s crazy enough to take Ryan Theriot.
Rubio is banking on a selection of either Chris Carpenter or Matt Holliday. Given Carpenter’s injury history Rubio can see Holliday going as the 3rd overall pick. It allows Springfield to select Evan Longoria and he figures Berwyn will pick some White Sock. The Basebots are the only real wildcard, and he suspects they take Robinson Cano with the 6th pick.
Mouse is crunching the numbers, calculating the win/loss expectancy added or lost with each player. Tulo would be the best choice, but Cano would not be so bad. It also allows for them to snag up some SP’s and wait on Jose Reyes.
Springfield is on the clock and Rubio is busy looking at more pornography. When he hears the selection he drops everything and proceeds to tear apart the entire front office, culminating in a Crying Game-esque scene where he strips all of his clothing off and burns it in the shower.
Logan Square took Evan Longoria.
“THAT ASSBAG DOESN’T EVEN KNOW WHO EVAN LONGORIA IS! I BET HE THINKS HE GOT THE HOT CHICK! I FUCKING HATE HUFFMAN THAT FUCKING PRICK! HE RUINED MY BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL STRATEGY!”
The cascade should be devastating. The progression of picks should be clear. Tulo-Halladay-Cano. He’ll be left to either select Votto early or a starter he doesn’t want.
Tulo goes at the 4, and he bets that Andrew doesn’t even realize the awesome talent package that is Troy Tulowitzki.
“Months of scouting, weeks of draft prep, all wasted because that fucking Cardinal fan can be counted on to be a homer one more fucking time.”
“We’re getting Cano,” mouse whispers. It’s barely audible, the rest of the room is too traumatized to move at this point. Rubio decides to put some pants on.
“What? No, no way. The only way we get Cano is if Halladay or Timmy go and the Basebots make a pick based off…”
Mouse smiles, he knows that Rubio can see the logic now. The only way they get Cano is if Kohl, owner of the Basebots, makes a selection based off a video game, even odds that he will.
Matt has a PS3 and perhaps the best baseball game on the market, The Show. He knows that if that video game showed him anything it’s that it has severely overrated the 2011 Buster Posey and underplayed the sophomore slump that ballplayers go through as the league adjusts to them. The onus is on the sophomore to adjust back to the league.
A smile spreads across Rubio’s face as he realizes, he’s getting Cano. He can stash Reyes until the 4th or 5th round, He can get Zim in the 3rd and reach for Kershaw in the 4th. He gets pick two in round 5 and odds are decent that Reyes is still there.
Tim Lincecum, known freak and weed smoker go to the Berwyn White Sox, and Buster Posey is selected in front of the Blues, leaving Robinson Cano there for the taking.
Little does Rubio realize that the Posey selection has more implications than he could have imagined, as it leads to more of his wish list getting selected ahead of him.