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Yes, I admit it. I am a running back whore. Invariably a part of my draft suffers due to my lack of self-control. Where others see RBBC, I see one injury away from stud muffin. While some may view a player as washed up or injured, I look at them with a gleam in my eye, knowing how the tides of fortune can shift so quickly.
Last night I participated in the Sports Grumblings Expert Auction Shootout, and as you can see from the table below, this time it was my WR positions that suffered.
My lust for running backs this season was at a pinnacle last night.
I’m not convinced Portis will remain healthy, and I am convinced that Betts will have some great days in Al Saunders offensive schemes. Remember when it was Priest and Larry, then Larry and Derrick Blaylock?
It was a frequent sight to see
Fred Taylor was a given for me after dropping $37 on MJD. Oh, how I love thee MJD. You tantalized me with many ripping, slashing runs through opposing defenses, and your 15 touchdowns have me salivating for a season of Fred Taylor in a back-up role.
Jerious
Joseph Addai was christened my crown prince last year.
I must admit I was a doubting Thomas, but oh how he convinced me, slaying the dragons of doubt with his daring and determination.
He looked like Edge when he was but a rook, and his will and desire to score left me breathless for more.
Kevin Jones, oh how thou intrigues me. In Mike Martz's offense you could be a god, and Tater Bell can’t hang on to a football, much less your job should you prove healthy at some point this year. I spent a lucky $13 on a whim, and if you return that chiseled physique to the gridiron and in top form, suitors will fawn all over themselves to pay me for your services.
I feel like such a pimp with my stable of cherished running backs, but I’ve also had more seasons fold like a house of cards after losing a starting back, and unless you win on the waiver wire roulette wheel you are likely to cannibalize one part of your roster to refill your need.
For me, that means stacking the rarest commodity deep on my benches and then looking for upgrades where I need them most. So yes, I am a RB whore. It’s a failing I’ve come to terms with, as heinous as it seems. I may walk down the halls, scorn and shame heaped upon me in August and September, but my focus is on December and January, and the dance I will perform, with silk veils if called for, after winning my league championship.
Come on now. It’s ok. You can come out of the closet and join me. There is no shame in being a RB whore. In my draft-addled mind, the only true shame is that which comes from watching your dreams go up in smoke, down the drain and out the window when Shaun breaks a foot or Clinton separates his shoulder.
As a very wise man told me early in my fantasy sports career, it isn’t how you start the season, it’s how you end it.
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