June 19, 2006
Swap meets
It's about that time of year again; while the rest of the world worries about the beautiful (if bloody and tragic) game, nebbishy number crunchers here in the last remaining superpower fret about Melky Carbera's VORP. Fantasy baseball may be widely derided as having turned a manly sport of drunken brawlers into something that only sabermetricians, lonely shut-ins, and boys named Theo care about. But this point of the season, when weaknesses start to become really glaring, offers a form of ritualized combat that most people in today's effete society can only dream of: the chance to rook one's friends and coworkers and then mock them mercilessly for having made the dumbest trade of the year.
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