Welcoming myself to the Blog-o-sphere

I’m pretty bad at blogging. I know this because I forgot my password for WordPress two days after I created an account and had to spend 30 minutes entering random names from my life (always the best passwords, ask your bank) along with my old high school jersey numbers until I picked the winning combination. I also know this because I started my first-ever blog post with “I’m pretty bad at blogging,” the ultimate hook for potential readers. Yet here I am, already writing for a blog that is the 18th item that pops up when you Google “put away the whistle,” just below an article from sports illustrated on Omar Moreno “the swift centerfielder with the whistle-tooting wife.” If I could ever be described as a swift anything with a whistle-tooting wife (whatever that is), my life will officially be complete.

There we are!

Ever since I was offered a contract by Put Away the Whistle, I have engaged in lively self-debate over what my first blog post should focus on. The heated internal debates usually go something like this:

Me: “You could write about … sports …

Me: “That’s too predictable, what about Omar Moreno?”

Me: “Wait, the centerfielder with the whistle-tooting wife? That’s great!”

After this mental struggle, I usually fall asleep on the couch watching another episode of the Highlight Express on ESPNNews (which is much better than any other programming on the 4-letter network). Well, today was different, because today I finally decided on what to write about – a topic that will galvanize readers and excite the youth, a topic too poignant for Tom Rinaldi, a topic even bigger than Tim Tebow and Jeremy Lin combined – I’m talking, of course, about fantasy baseball.

I recently became an “ESPN In-sider,” proving that I can come up with the most creative avenues to waste $3.33 a month. I now have access to some of the best articles on the internet that I will never read, such as “Samardzija a good rotation gamble,” and “Previewing El Tri’s match vs. Canada.” As I was sifting through this Eden of sports-writing, I noticed that “in” recommended that I become the proud owner of an ESPN Fantasy Baseball franchise. I figure that if Magic Johnson can pay $2 billion (what a steal!) for a team as bad as the Dodgers, I can sign up for a public ESPN Fantasy Baseball league. So without giving it a second thought, I selected the first public league with a draft post 11 am. The league is named “CLEVE’S LEAGUE,” which I’m guessing pays homage to Cleveland, cleavage, or both. I should let everyone know that I have zero experience with fantasy baseball, and only signed up because my caffeine-charged eyeballs noticed the flashing advertisement on the computer screen (I probably would have signed up for fantasy gardening if there had been a similar flashing advertisement). With a few easy clicks, I joined the ranks of teams with names like “team cleondre brosefs” (whose owner I would be scared to meet in an alleyway), and “JC Seam Heads” (whose owner I could beat up in an alleyway).

After I signed up, I was immediately asked for a team name. This posed the first big problem of the day (the second problem occurred when I realized that I now play fantasy baseball), as my team name would either strike fear into my opponents hearts, or cause them to leave the league because “Oscar Meyer Wieters” had joined. After realizing that the other members of CLEVE’S LEAGUE could see my location in Michigan, I decided on a crowd pleaser: the “Miguel Cabreras.” This was my attempt to make everyone think “wow, he’s from Michigan and he likes Miguel Cabrera! What a great guy!” I didn’t want to pick any name that would reveal my true baseball allegiance to the Yankees, such as “Hip hip, Jorge!” or “Mark Teixeira sucks in April.” I truly believed that a Yankee-themed name would cause everyone to think “wow, he’s from Michigan and he likes the Yankees! What a jagweed!”

After exploring the team I would begin to ignore after the second week of April (when baseball get’s boring again), I realized another predicament: my avatar, the picture my league-mates would see each time they clicked on my team to laugh at my roster, was horrifying. ESPN provided me with a gray baseball cap in front of a gray background – literally the worst thing I have ever seen. What would team cleondre brosefs think? Would I be cast out of the fantasy baseball society back into the world of normal, successful Americans? My current avatar looks like this:


My goal before the league draft (3 days, 16 hours, 18 min, and 53 seconds until I forget that is happening) is to find the best avatar to let these guys know that I mean serious fantasy-baseball business. I’m thinking something with Omar Moreno’s whistle-tooting wife.

Author: Dan Etz


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